Unrestricted (Unwilling Bonds #4)

Prologue

Adriano

The cool Sydney air is welcome after several days spent in the stifling heat of Rome.

As I step off the plane, the grim look on my second-in-command's face tells me he's about to deliver bad news.

I've worked with Paolo Ruggerio for almost a decade. While he's able to hide his thoughts from most people, he can't conceal them from me.

I know from the way he draws his shoulders back that he's bracing himself to tell me something I won't like.

"What is it?" I demand.

Paolo grimaces apologetically although it's highly unlikely he's the one who fucked up. He's the most reliable man under my command.

"The girl is gone."

I stop dead. "Gone. How the hell can she be gone?"

"She slipped out in the middle of the night."

Something must have spooked her to make her run again. I'm guessing she spotted one of my men watching her.

For an amateur she's been remarkably adept at evading me. Her instincts are sharp. She seems to know when we're getting close to her.

Three years ago, she sold Gabriele out to some Hungarian thugs who carved up his face and left him bleeding in a dingy alley in Rome. I'm the only one my cousin confided in about his attackers and the woman who set him up.

Since I spoke to him as he lay in a hospital bed, asking for a woman who'd already fled the country, I've made it my mission to put things right for him.

The first step in that will be getting my hands on Eliza Moretti, or Elena Marek as she's been calling herself here in Sydney.

"Who was supposed to be watching her?" I ask.

It can't have been Paolo. He would never have been careless enough to lose her.

"Bruno."

"Bruno?" I pinch the bridge of my nose. Somehow I knew it would be him even before Paolo spoke. "That kid has been nothing but trouble."

Paolo nods. "I know what you're thinking but you can't kill him. The boss brought him in as a favor to his mother, remember?"

As if I'd forget. Damiano Volante, the head of our organization and my cousin, inducted Bruno eighteen months ago and promptly dumped the little shit on me. He said I'd be able to whip Bruno into shape.

There's been no progress so far. This moron gives me nothing to work with. Even Paolo, with his infinite patience, is close to losing it with him.

"How did it happen?"

"Bruno took over watching her at midnight. Sergio found him sleeping when he came to relieve him at six."

"He couldn't even manage a six-hour shift?" Fucking pathetic.

Paolo runs his fingers through his thinning gray hair. "Sergio didn't realize anything was up until the girl didn't head for work at her usual time. We hacked the surveillance cameras in the street outside and caught her getting into a cab at five a.m."

I grit my teeth. "Has anyone spoken to her roommate?"

"Sergio did but all he got was that Eliza, or rather, Elena, was gone."

The roommate must have more information than that, even if she doesn't realize it.

"Take me there."

We get in the car and I take my cellphone out. I flew here straight from Italy, having told my cousin we had Eliza. I won't let him know yet that we lost her. With any luck I'll catch up to Eliza before Gabriele needs to know she got away again.

Paolo drives us through the city at a speed which he rarely achieves on the narrow streets of Rome.

Unencumbered by millennia of history, Sydney is built for the modern era. It's vibrant and fun, but it can't compete with the beauty of my hometown.

History may slow things down, but it reminds me where I come from.

There are some issues with permits for a construction project I'm a major investor in. I delegate those to my personal assistant Amara. She's been with me for years and is capable of smoothing over the problems we occasionally encounter.

As I get out of the car, I put my phone back in my pocket.

"Adriano." The note of caution in Paolo's voice as he joins me on the sidewalk makes me look around.

I see what he's worried about when I spot Bruno sauntering toward us, arms thrown wide and mouth open, poised to offer me some excuse for his failure. The thought of shooting him is more appealing than ever.

My Aunt Beatrice, who persuaded Damiano to employ this asshole, died last year so I see no real impediment to eliminating Bruno. It might piss Damiano off, though, so I shelve the thought for now.

Not giving Bruno a chance to bullshit me, I pull back my fist and punch him in the face. The crunch of bone beneath my knuckles is gratifying, but it's not enough.

As he stumbles back, I grab a fistful of his shirt and haul him closer to hit him again, twice for good measure. Then I let the sack of shit drop to the ground.

Proving once again how ill-suited he is to our world the blonde-haired, blue-eyed fuck who somehow convinced my aunt of his worth lies there sniveling like a worm. Shaking my head, I accept a wet wipe from Paolo.

My knuckles are bloodied from hitting Bruno's bony face but you don't see me crying over it. I clean my hands and drop the balled up wipe on Bruno.

"Fuck up again and I'll end you," I warn him.

Disgusted, I turn and walk into the apartment building with Paolo a step behind. The entrance foyer is dark and dingy, the only source of light coming from a single naked bulb at the center of the space.

It takes me a minute to locate the source of the putrid smell assaulting my nose, an overflowing trash can in the corner behind the main door. Somewhere above us a dog is barking. Who would keep an animal cooped up in a place like this?

Eliza Moretti wasn't among the elite of Roman society, but she came from a respectable middle-class family and when she was with Gabriele she experienced the finer side of life. Living in places like this must have been a shock to her system at first. I wonder if she's grown used to it.

"Which floor?" I ask.

"Sixth." Paolo points to the right. "There's an elevator."

"Fantastic."

We travel up to the sixth floor in an elevator that smells like piss. Paolo gets out ahead of me and walks along the corridor to number seventy-two, alert to danger which I doubt we'll find here.

He knocks at the door and a few seconds later a young woman answers.

Tall, blonde and blue-eyed, she's the opposite of Eliza, a petite brunette with eyes the color of a freshly roasted coffee bean.

The way the woman thrusts her chest out tells me I'm her type, so I play on that.

Will Eliza greet me like this when I finally catch up with her? I doubt it.

"Buongiorno, bella. I'm looking for Elena."

Her lips push into a pout. She doesn't like that I'm here for another woman.

"Elena's gone. She did a moonlight flit and stuck me with the rent."

"Oh, that's awful, but so typical of my cousin."

"Your cousin?" The roommate perks up again.

"Yes, she's a troubled soul. I came to bring her home but now I'll have to return and tell my poor aunt I failed."

The blonde twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "Well, I don't know where she went but she did ask to use my laptop last night. Maybe she looked up bus times or something."

My guess is that wherever Eliza is headed it involves a journey by plane, not a bus. The roommate may well be right about her using the laptop to find information, though.

"Would you mind if we took a look at your laptop?"

We could force our way into the apartment, tie this bimbo up and take the laptop, but where outsiders are concerned, I prefer a more civilized approach.

"Okay." She opens the door wider. "I'm Courtney by the way."

"A pleasure to meet you, Courtney." I don't offer my name or Paolo's. "Would you mind making me a little coffee while my friend looks at the laptop and perhaps Elena's bedroom? She may have left some of her things."

"Uh…."

When she hesitates, I reach out and brush a hair back from her face.

"Please, bella," I say.

"Okay." She glances past me to Paolo. "The laptop's on the coffee table and Elena's bedroom is along the corridor, second on the right."

I throw Paolo a look that tells him to be quick before following Courtney into the kitchen. It's small but clean and brightly decorated. Someone likes bubblegum pink and I'm guessing it's not Elena. She strikes me as having more sophisticated taste.

I cross to the window and take in the view of several other buildings and a parking lot. I'm not a fan of city living. Though I conduct most of my business in Rome, I prefer to live ten miles from the capital. The land surrounding my home keeps the outside world at bay.

"So tell me, how did you enjoy living with Elena?" I ask.

Courtney shrugs as she fills the kettle with water. I realize as she gets a jar down from the shelf that she's going to make instant coffee. Paolo better get a move on. I don't want to be forced to drink that slop.

"I didn't spend much time with her to be honest." Courtney puts a half spoon of coffee powder in a large ceramic cup and I almost clutch my heart. "She kept herself to herself, you know."

I nod. "Yes, my cousin is quite shy. She had no boyfriends I assume."

"None that I met."

I wish I knew why that pleases me so much.

"She seemed like a nice enough girl," Courtney continues, "but a bit sad. I reckon she was homesick."

"I'm sure she was." Sad? The thought bothers me. I don't consider why.

The kettle boils and Courtney pours water into the cup. "You want milk?"

"No." I almost shout before catching myself. "Thank you, bella."

She slides the cup along the counter to me.

"You know, Elena really left me in the lurch here." Her gaze drops to the platinum watch at my wrist. "I've got rent to pay and it could take me weeks to find a new roommate."

Ah, I thought she was attracted to me. Perhaps it's my money she's more interested in. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Perhaps you could help me out," she continues. She runs her tongue over her top lip. The practiced move does nothing for me. "I'd make it worth your while."

I'm about to turn her down when Paolo appears in the doorway.

"Hai qualcosa?"

"Si."

As I move to follow Paolo from the room, Courtney puts her hand on my arm.

"What about the rent?"

"Might I suggest you take the offer you made me down to the street corner. I'm sure you'll find someone willing to help you out."

Leaving her to stew over that, I catch up to Paolo. He shakes his head in mock despair. "Can't we go five minutes without some woman offering herself to you?"

"What can I say? I'm cursed with a pretty face."

As we head back toward the elevator, I sober. "What did you find?"

"Nothing in her room but laptop history showed she was looking at flights to London."

"London? Quite the jetsetter, isn't she?" I get my phone from my pocket and pull up the latest image I have of Eliza. She looks tired in it. Three years of running will do that to a person. "Tell Mason to prepare the jet."

"You're going after her?"

"Yes, I am."

And this time, she won't be getting away.