Chapter 11 #2
The way the males in that house treated her only attested to how vulnerable she’d been in their eyes.
It pains me to admit that they were right. If her own family didn’t want to protect her, who should have?
What she said to me last night made me so angry that I couldn’t sleep. Who was that man who consistently did that to her, and how old was she when it happened?
She couldn’t be older than a teenager. It turns my stomach.
I’m trying to move away from that aspect of her life and think about what lies ahead.
She’s now my leverage, but unlike them, I don’t plan to destroy her. Quite the opposite.
I want to give her a chance to live a different life, one of her choosing.
She’s also my hostage in a way, which she doesn’t mind, and also my protege, which I don’t mind.
Having her in my house gives me another reason to accomplish what I’ve come here to accomplish.
Never in a million years would I have imagined that she would be part of the story.
I knew it would take some time to figure out this story, but I’d never imagined it would come to this. Holding this precious thing that Varela wants.
Stupid old fool.
The car slows down as it enters the road leading to the property.
It’s a beautiful day, with blue sky and not a cloud in sight. A breeze makes the trees rustle and stirs up little storms of swirling petals.
The driveway looks normal. No extra cars. No extra security. It may be that they haven’t noticed that she was gone.
I suspect she rarely shows up for breakfast, and no one in the house has cared to check her room.
Several staff members meet and greet us as usual.
Perhaps Giorgio’s men have noticed that mine are heavily armed and tense like the gravel we are walking on.
But there’s still no red flag for them, so things unfold smoothly as they normally would.
Nona steps out of the house, her eyes fleetingly brushing mine.
She’s reading mine as much as I’m reading hers.
She may know something, but I’m still not convinced she knows Leilani’s missing.
Had they known that, the house would look different now.
They’d expect to be attacked, confronted.
They know what’s in play and how hot-headed someone like Varela can be.
They’d suspect someone had framed them and wanted to blackmail them, which is both possible and true.
They’d be frantic and quick to reach for their guns.
“Giorgio is on the patio,” she tosses at me casually, and nodding softly, I head that way.
A few of my men stay behind and start chatting with Giorgio’s guards. The rest follow me inside, which is unusual, but no one is here to comment on it.
I don’t want to make it look like a declaration of war yet––I have different plans––but I can’t risk a conflict inside the house without having protection.
I’m armed, and so are my men.
Sweetly smelling flowers move in the wind as I walk toward the lounging area by the pool.
I can’t help myself and lift my gaze to Leilani’s room. The windows are wide open, and the drapes are flowing, but no one’s inside.
Giorgio is having a late breakfast by the pool, wearing light-colored pants and a white shirt, with the corner of a linen napkin tucked inside his neckline.
He pulls it away, flashing a smile, before he picks up his coffee and takes a sip.
“Callum, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you here this morning.”
Right there, I notice something in his voice.
He might not suspect that Leilani is gone, but he is well aware that gangsters never waste time on social visits.
So, despite his cheerful smile, I know our presence here has put him on notice.
Plus, his eyes avoid mine.
“What a lovely day,” I say, pretending that this is something other than what it is.
“Have breakfast with me,” he says, searching my eyes this time.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee,” I murmur to buy some time.
“What about them?” he says, taking a bite and chewing slowly on his food while flicking his chin toward my men.
“They’re good,” I say.
“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, tilting his eyes in their direction again.
“No. I just want to talk to you.”
His smile fades into the sunny morning as his mask begins to peel off.
Grinning, I try to diminish the effect of my words.
“Don’t worry,” I say nonchalantly. “It’s nothing bad.”
Just as I take a seat at the table, Sylvia walks out of the house.
Inside the hallway, I notice a young woman––Aurora Kensington––with a couple of suitcases, ready to leave.
Sylvia wears a white dress with a small rose pattern.
She’s well put together, as she always is, only this time a scowl mars her face. She can’t even make herself smile.
“Callum,” she says in passing as I carefully study her.
She moves her focus to her husband.
“Have you seen Leilani by any chance?”
Giorgio seems genuinely taken by surprise.
He puts his fork down.
“No. Why?”
His wife clasps her hips in annoyance.
“She’s missing,” she says as if her favorite houseplant were missing.
“What do you mean she’s missing?”
She spins slightly and gestures at the house in frustration.
“Aurora needs to leave earlier than she planned and wants to say goodbye to her. Her room is empty. It doesn’t look like she’s spent the night here.”
He shoots up, the chair almost falling backward, and right there, I get my confirmation of how important Leilani is in this deal.
Without her, their fragile world––as things stand right now––might collapse.
They know what I know. What I learned last night.
I let them go through the motions, talking loudly, and fueling the angst taking over their world.
Inside the corridor, Leilani’s friend looks downcast and possibly blames herself for blowing her best friend’s cover.
I don’t know whether Leilani talked to anyone last night.
And where is that dick, by the way?
I barely finish that thought, and Julian York walks out of the house, takes a couple of steps, gets a question or two about Leilani’s whereabouts from her grandparents, notices my presence here, and something tells him that he’d better bounce.
Within seconds, he makes himself invisible.
I’ll deal with him later.
The young woman inside the house has left too, while Giorgio picks up his phone to alert his entire crew to look for his granddaughter.
Nona heads our way when I stop everything with a gesture.
I’ve collected enough information so far.
“No need to call anyone. I’ve got Leilani.”
If a thunderbolt hit from the sky, Giorgio wouldn’t be more surprised. He shifts his focus to me while Sylvia’s hands peel off her hips.
“What do you exactly mean by that?” he asks.
“Please, take a seat. That’s why I’m here this morning. I’ve got a proposal for you.”
He stares at me, carved in stone, trying to understand.
“What’s going on?” she asks, unhappy with her husband’s reaction.
I flick my chin toward the chairs in front of me, inviting them to take a seat.
It’s quite enjoyable to have the upper hand in dealing with them, for a change.
My coffee arrives, and we’re all waiting for the server to walk back into the house before I speak.
“I would’ve much appreciated it if you two had told me about Stefano Varela’s interest in marrying your granddaughter. As you both know, Varela and I go way back,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “But I’m not here to talk about that.”
They’ve been at this game for a while, so despite the angst that might flood their bodies just about now, they look perfectly fine, faces composed, demeanor controlled.
I take a sip under their harsh, glassy eyes.
The hatred coursing through their veins is finally making its presence felt. I wonder if these two have ever had genuine warm feelings toward anyone.
“I’ve got Leilani because she is not safe in this house,” I say and shift my eyes from one to the other.
No reaction from either of them. “I presume you want her to be delivered in perfect condition to her new husband,” I say after letting them suspect the worst for a couple of seconds––that I might want her for myself.
“Stefano only likes to buy top merchandise in perfect condition, as you both know. I hope you do. He also gets crazy if a deal doesn’t go through and he is poised to lose.
I have first-hand experience with this, so you better believe me. ”
There’s an ounce of amusement in my words, but it’s carefully concealed in my stern, cold voice.
“What makes you believe she is unsafe?” Giorgio asks, his voice as dry as a husk.
“What made you believe she was safe?” I retort with a smile. “Maybe she was before we arrived. Before Maclean became available to her. Before Julian York showed up. Do you want me to continue?”
They both look at me in silence.
“I pulled her away from Maclean a couple of nights ago, and then I learned Everett York’s son likes to tease her. And not in the most innocent way as you two might conceive.”
A window slams in the house, and something tells me someone is about to pack their bags and leave… in a hurry.