42. Romeo
Chapter 42
Romeo
I glance at my watch when Daniele strolls into Massimo’s office. He’s thirty minutes late . If last night's conversation hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t think twice about it. I’d have trusted that he had a damn good reason for holding us up. As it stands, a man I’ve considered a brother for the last fifteen years has just guaranteed himself a painful death.
Dropping a manila envelope onto the desk, he chances a glance at me before nodding to Leonardo who’s positioned behind Massimo. Daniele drops into the seat next to me as Massimo reaches for the envelope. The way he leans away ever so slightly pisses me off, because we both know there’s no getting away from what’s to come.
Aurora has him wrapped around her little fucking finger. Too bad she’s probably already dead. A tightness pulls at my chest and my throat thickens as I swallow. She only has herself to blame. If she hadn’t betrayed us, I’d have done anything to get her back. But she did and so, for the family, I know I did the right thing.
Massimo flips the envelope over in his hand, his thumb poised on the opening. “What’s this?”
Daniele clears his throat. “It’s your evidence. I worked with Callum and we hacked the systems. It’s proof that whatever information you were given that Aurora was behind any of this was doctored.”
Massimo’s brows tug together before he calmly tears open the envelope. Tipping it upside down, papers fall out onto the desk and Massimo’s eyes widen a fraction as they bounce around the scattered documents.
My breath halts when I pick up a log of calls to the house, my eyes scanning the page. It looks similar to the one Aldo showed us, but there are clear differences. There’s a fluttering in the pit of my stomach, but I ignore it, refusing to allow the hope in. Not yet, anyway. Because with the hope, the guilt will inevitably follow. “How can you be sure this hasn’t been manipulated?”
Daniele holds my stare, his defiance clear. “I know it hasn’t.” His attention moves back to Massimo before he continues, “No offense to your guy, Aldo, and whoever gave him the information, but I had a hunch and I needed to follow it for my own peace of mind.”
A muscle ticks in Massimo’s jaw when he picks up a photo. He hands it to Leonardo.
Massimo turns his focus to me. “Anything for the family?”
“Of course.”
“Deal with her, Leonardo. Take her upstate, and when you come back, break the news to Maria. Don’t do it before. I don’t want the drama,” Massimo commands.
Leonardo’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Yes, boss.”
Whoever is in that picture has clearly betrayed us and I know that he’ll do what his boss is telling him to do, even if he doesn’t want to. After all, he knows better than anyone that there is only one way to deal with disloyalty.
Leonardo leaves us, a stiffness in his walk, and when the door clicks softly behind him, I return to looking over the papers spread out on the desk. A photograph shows Aurora in the living room, dressed in the skimpy outfit, with overdone hair and makeup from the night we went to dinner. Her back is to the room as she looks out of the window, but in the corner of the image, you can see what looks like an arm. My stomach rolls and a sour taste fills my mouth.
With a hoarse voice, I ask, “Do you have the actual footage?”
I already know what it will show. Her innocence . Smoothing my hand over my chin and down my neck, I tug on the collar of my shirt. The guilt hits me in the chest, leaving behind a tightness that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
There’s no judgment in his tone when Daniele replies, “I do.” He pulls out his phone, flicking through the screen before holding it at an angle for us to view.
The recording plays, showing Aurora standing at the window in the living room, her arms wrapped around her slender waist. There’s no sound, but when she jumps and turns to look over her shoulder in the direction of the phone, I can hear it ringing.
I feel Daniele’s eyes boring into me when he says, “It was an incoming call. Which is consistent with the data I got directly from the phone company.”
Aurora makes no move to get it, instead her attention shifts over her other shoulder before one of Massimo’s housekeepers enters the frame. She looks vaguely familiar, but I wouldn’t be able to name her. I’ve seen her around the house but… she’s the one that told us Aurora had been taken.
Cristo.
The housekeeper picks up the phone, her back to Aurora as she puts it to her ear. Thirty seconds later, she puts it down and scurries from the room. The video continues to play and I see myself stroll in. Not once did she move to make a call.
A muscle in my chest contracts and no matter how much air I try to drag in, it’s not enough to fill my lungs. I cover my mouth with my hand. I should have known that she wouldn’t betray us. Wouldn’t betray me . Nothing she’s done since I took her has indicated that she would, and yet at the first sign of trouble, I’ve abandoned her. I don’t know that she’ll forgive me, but I have to hope that she will. If she’s still alive.
Cazzo!
My eyes grow hot before I rub at them and let the regret wash over me. It settles on my chest, heavy and incessant.
I’ve killed plenty of people in my life and given orders for others to do the same. I couldn’t tell you how many people have died because of me, but if she is one of them… I’ll never forgive myself. I should have trusted that she wouldn’t do something like this. And because of me, she’s most likely dead.
Clearing my throat, I reposition myself in my chair and squeeze the bridge of my nose. A pounding behind my eyes only intensifies with every second that passes until I can’t take it, or the feeling of guilt, anymore.
Standing, I wrap my hand around the base of the lamp on Massimo’s desk and launch it at the wall. The porcelain shatters, falling to the floor as I turn, looking for something else to throw. Anything to get rid of this feeling .
My fingers grip the heavy crystal paperweight before a hand lands on my shoulder, gently squeezing. “Rome, I need you to stop destroying my office.”
Turning toward him, my voice cracks. “I told them to kill her.” My eyes widen as I recall my last words to her. “I told her that I hoped they’d make it as brutally painful as possible, Massimo. There’s no getting her back.”
“I know what you said but you have to hold on to the hope.”
My breaths come in heavy pants, the panic clawing at my lungs. Massimo turns me toward the chairs, pushing me to sit. Leaning against his desk, he says, “Look, I’m sure you took them by surprise and they’re regrouping, trying to figure out a way to get back at us. It’s what we would do. So, if we’re going to get her back, then we need you to be the levelheaded one.”
But what if they’ve already killed her?
The question tastes bitter on my tongue, but I can’t force it out. Instead, I suck in a breath and push down the emotions. If I want to get her back, I can’t drown in this feeling of hopelessness and guilt.
I have to find her and bring her home.