Chapter Seven
Matteo
I yank at my tie as I let myself into the penthouse, dropping my briefcase by the entrance before heading for the living room. I already know what I’m going to see when I step in. My beautiful wife curled up on the couch as a movie plays on the screen.
It’s been this way for weeks now.
Before Sofia, this place was just a space I used to catch a few hours of sleep and shower before heading back to work.
And for a while, I was content with that life, but lately, I've been looking forward to coming home.
To sharing meals with Sofia every evening.
Sometimes she cooks, sometimes I order in, but we always eat together.
We talk—about her designs, my day, our families.
She waits for me, and I come home for her.
Several emotions cross her face every time. Pleasure, annoyance, and then desire.
Barely any words are traded between us as one of us crosses to the other.
We make love on the couch or on the carpet, then have dinner together before retiring to bed where we come together again before sleep.
I don't fall asleep immediately. Instead, I hold her in my arms and watch her sleep for the next several hours.
It's a cycle I have come to depend on. To look forward to every day.
But tonight feels different.
I expect to find her waiting as always, so I'm taken aback when I find the lights off and the living room empty. I figure she's already retired to bed, and I hate the little hint of disappointment that she didn’t wait for me as she always does.
A quick glance at my wristwatch has me shaking my head in disgust. It’s nearly eight-thirty. Not that late, but later than usual.. Fuck, I should have called her, warned her that I would be delayed, but my phone died during a meeting with those traitorous bastards.
Someone has been messing with us lately.
The most frustrating part is that I can't tell if the mole that tipped off the cops about our shipment was from our camp or someone else’s.
God knows we have plenty of enemies. At least we got a warning from our connections that the cops were going to raid our shipment.
I spent the whole fucking afternoon trying to figure out how to re-route the illegal weapons we’d just bought from the Russians.
I need Sofia, I realize.
After the shitty day I’ve had, I need my wife. To touch and kiss her. To feel grounded. Shit, maybe Dad was right after all. Now I can't imagine not waking up every morning to the soft press of my wife, nuzzling against my throat and breathing softly.
Fuck, I want her!
I toss my tie onto the couch and start for the bedroom, no plan in mind for how I'm going to justify being late and apologizing for not calling, but when I step into the master bedroom, it's empty. I don’t need to turn the lights on to know that the room is empty, but I do so anyway. The bed is made, not a wrinkle on it, and the bathroom lights are off. No, it’s not just the room.
She’s not anywhere in our home. I should have noticed the second I walked in.
Something felt off, but I was too tired and distracted to pay attention.
Still, I go through every single room and come back empty.
I grab my phone to call her, but I remember it's dead.
Fuck! I plug it in to charge and it feels like forever before it lights up and shows that single bar.
I power it on to see a missed call from Sofia—probably tried to call to ask where I was—and my gut clenches. Something is wrong.
I try her number first. Straight to voicemail.
My unease shifts to concern. Sofia always answers. Always.
I dial her driver, Tony, my jaw tight. By the time he answers, I’m ready to tear into him for not alerting me to her change in plans. I don’t just pay him to drive her safely, I pay him to keep me updated on my wife’s movements.
"Hello, boss," he says. "What can I do for you, Mr. Rossi?”
"You can tell me where my wife is, Tony. And why you didn’t alert me to her change of plans."
There’s a drawn-out silence before he responds, “You told me not to pick her up today, boss. You sent me a text saying you’d be picking her up from work yourself.”
“I did no such fucking thing,” I bellow. My phone beeps, and I look down to see that Tony has sent a screenshot of the text. It came from my private number. My blood runs cold. “When did you get this text?”
“Around four-thirty, sir. Right before I was supposed to pick up Mrs. Rossi.”
Four-thirty. Hours ago. She’s been missing for hours.
“Is Mrs. Rossi okay?”
“That remains to be seen.” I say through gritted teeth, my unease shifting to panic. “I’ll handle it,” I say when he asks if he should check with her office.
I hang up and dial Sofia’s number, which sends me to voicemail.
A boulder settles on my chest as I scroll through my phone searching for any of her sisters' phone numbers, but I don't have their contact information saved.
Goddamnit! Three sisters, two cousins, and I don't have a single phone number.
I call Dante next, recalling he mentioned being close to one of the sisters. “What is it now, Matteo? We just left the meeting less than half an hour ago!” Dante grumbles. “Do you ever rest?”
“You talk to one of Sofia’s sisters. What’s her name–”
“Gia,” he says with a tired sigh. “Why?”
“I need you to call her and ask her if she knows where Sofia is.”
“What did you do, Matteo? Don't tell me you scared your poor wife–"
“Now, Dante!” I grind out, my patience running thin.
“Jesus Christ, alright, fine!" He hangs up, and I stare at my phone the entire five minutes it takes him to call back. His voice is serious when he speaks this time. “Gia doesn’t know either.”
“What?”
"They had lunch together and she says that Sofia looked upset and was distracted, but she was in a good mood when they parted ways.”
Upset?
My mind races through the past few days. Has Sofia seemed different? We’ve had dinner together every night, talked, and made love. She seemed... fine. Happy, even. But had I missed something beneath the surface? Fuck, have I been so focused on the weapons deal that I missed signs she was unhappy?
But no—this doesn’t feel like her leaving. Sofia would confront me, argue with me. She’s feisty, stubborn. She wouldn’t just disappear.
Fuck, I pushed her away, didn’t I? What if by holding bits of myself back, I’ve managed to place a wedge in my marriage?
But Christ, how could I pour everything into her?
Allow myself to become vulnerable as my father had with my mother.
It hurt him to lose her. No, it nearly destroyed him and us in the process. That kind of love can kill you.
I could love her to excess.
Our first night together proved that I could pour everything into my wife until I was empty. I felt the shift inside me and it scared me, and I am a man who does not scare easily. So I held back parts of me in an attempt to protect myself from a future I had no control over.
And now, she’s gone.
Fuck it all to hell and back, but I’ll be damned if I let her walk out of my life. No, I’ll find her and bring her back where she belongs. To me. With me!
Mine.
Before I can start thinking about where to start, my phone vibrates. I figure it’s Dante with more information, so I grab it and open it to see a text from Bruno. My brows furrow as I open the text, but nothing could prepare me for what I see.
Sofia is bound to a chair, her mouth gagged and those eyes—the pretty green I adore—are filled with tears as they stare back at me. I clench the phone in my hand, nearly breaking it in half as I stare at the picture, blood boiling with rage.
No, she didn’t leave me.
Someone took her. Took my wife.
My eyes move to the words under the photo, and a fresh wave of rage rolls through me. That fucking bastard. He took my woman and is going to pay!
It’s your turn now to know what it feels like to lose.
***
“Do you think Bruno sold us out to the cops and told them about the shipment?” Dante asks from where he’s seated.
Next to him on the couch is Lorenzo, fingers flying across his laptop as he works on pinning down Sofia’s location.
Having a tech wizard in the family with mad hacking and surveillance skills has always cut down the risk it would take to secure an outsider to do the job.
I just never thought I would use Lorenzo’s skill to trace my wife and her kidnapper.
I tap my foot restlessly before I decide sitting won't work for me, so I jump to my feet and start pacing. I’ve always sensed some animosity from Bruno, but I never imagined he’d go this far.
Bruno and Nicolo came into the family when their mother married my father, but by then, the succession was already decided.
While Bruno is a little older than me, my father made it clear from the beginning that I would still inherit.
I was raised for this—trained from childhood to lead.
My other brothers accepted it without question.
They were raised to see me as their leader, their protector.
We’re close. Loyal. The thought that Bruno—family—would betray that. .. It’s devastating.
We don’t fight for power in this family. We stand together. Or we’re supposed to.
Bruno’s dead when I find him!
I turn to look at my brothers. They’re here without question, armed and ready to go to war for me.
For Sofia. This is what family means. Antonio, Lorenzo, and Dante have shown no interest in becoming don, and hell, even Nicolo expressed his support.
My stepbrother understood the family structure, and no one dared challenge it.
Our father made sure everyone knew the position was mine.
Which makes Bruno’s betrayal cut even deeper.
A hand grabs my arm and stops my pacing. I turn around to face Nicolo, who has a somber expression on his face. "I'm really sorry about this, Matteo. I didn't expect my brother to do something so stupid."
“It’s no fault of yours what Bruno does, Nicolo.”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "I knew something was up with him. He's been drinking a lot more than usual. He even got drunk at your wedding and had to be carried out."
“Again, you cannot be held responsible for the actions of an adult man, Nicolo. He’s grown enough to make his own decisions,” I tell him, my eyes narrowing. “And dealing with the consequences of those decisions.”
The question is clear. Are you going to get in my way in this?
“You’re right,” Nicolo says, reading me clearly. “He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
I nod once. On that, we're clear. Nicolo is not only my stepbrother but also my best friend, but I won’t spare Bruno. Not even for him. Not after seeing the fear in Sofia’s eyes. That damned picture is ingrained in my mind. Fuck, I know I’ll see it in my head for a very long time before it fades.
“Should we call Dad?” Antonio asks.
"No," I say with a shake of my head. "Bruno is his stepson. He'll be soft on him if only to spare Estella’s feelings. There is no reality where I will accept Bruno walking away from this in one piece.”
I receive nods from my brothers but before I can get back to pacing, Lorenzo shoots to his feet. “I found him,” he exclaims. We all rush to his side. “I used the data from the picture Bruno sent. The idiot forgot to turn off his location tracking.”
“Lorenzo, where?” I demand impatiently.
“Red Hook, Brooklyn."
Fuck, there are an endless number of hiding places in that neighborhood.
Taking into account all those residential and commercial buildings, the fucker could be keeping her anywhere.
“What's the exact location, Lorenzo, or do I need to get my men to comb through every building in that neighborhood until we find her? "
“I know where he’s keeping her.” Nicolo’s words stop me before I can storm off. I turn to find him staring at the computer. He drops his head, resignation flooding his words. “Our father used to own a warehouse in Red Hook, but he sold it. It's been empty for years."
“He’s right,” Lorenzo chimes in. “He’s holding her at a warehouse."
“Get armed, boys, let’s give our dear big brother a surprise.”
But they don’t need the order. They’re already moving before I finish speaking.