Chapter 2
TWO
JULIET
I should be used to it by now—the blaring sound of my alarm at six in the morning—but I’m not.
The last few days have been absolute hell; I have never seen the guys like this. They're somber, just going through the motions. I think everyone is thinking the same thing: how the fuck did we get here?
I can tell you how.
Lorenzo Russo, the fucking asshole. Mateo is missing, but the likelihood they’ll kill him is low. We need to figure out how to find him without Gino going on a rampage.
I quickly put on jeans and my favorite pink sweater, grab my laptop, and head downstairs into the kitchen, where I stand at the edge of the bar counter.
A few years ago, Antonio gave me this laptop. He always treated me more like a daughter than an employee, and anyone who knew him knew that. He and my parents met back in college, and their friendship lasted until he died.
I look over my emails from the night before, hoping there’s some new information on Mateo’s disappearance. The police won’t help one bit; they think he’s another mafia guy.
There’s nothing regarding the matter, but there is something that catches my eye.
“Damn it,” I mutter to myself as I glance over the Third Street transaction Gino put together, but something doesn’t add up.
I need to dig into it more before I bring it up.
“What?” Gino all but yells from the hallway.
I quickly close my laptop and look up to see Gino staring down at me.
“Nothing,” I reply quickly.
He doesn’t say anything as he walks around me to the coffee machine, which is pretty much the extent of all of our interaction since we slept together.
Back then, I left that situation before I made it worse.
In front of everyone, we look like two close friends, but now we’re strangers. I should have talked to him the next day. I should’ve told him I don’t regret sleeping with him. It was honestly better than any other sexual interaction I’ve had. But I didn't want him to think I used him in his grief.
That night it felt like we finally got past the awkward ‘will they, won’t they’ tension between us.
When I woke up, he was sleeping peacefully beside me, and it hit me how much this wasn’t how I wanted this to go.
I wanted our first time to not have the backdrop of his father’s funeral.
So I left, and I regret it. I should have talked to him; I should have told him how much I wanted it, but I didn’t because fear outweighed reason.
Within a month of Antonio’s death, I moved in after being convinced by the rest of the group it would be a good idea. And within six months, I was helping Gino redesign certain rooms in the house.
“Jules.” He hasn’t called me that in private in two years.
“Yes,” I respond.
“I need your help.”
“My help with what?” I ask, turning around. I find him directly behind me, and I step back until my back is flush against the counter.
“Helping me sort all this shit out,” he says. “How did they do this? Why did they do this? How am I supposed to face my sister and tell her the man she loves, her husband, may never come back?”
“Gino, it's been five days, not a year, so you don’t need to tell Vanessa anything like that. But I can help you with the other stuff, so where do you want me to start?”
“I know you’ve gained a lot of knowledge working for my father and me for a decade now. I need someone I can run ideas by and help me stay sane. Like we used to.”
“Uhm.” He’s closer to me now. Too close, almost. Close enough to breathe in the woodsy scent of him.
“You don’t really have a choice, but I thought I’d ask.” He gives me a sly smile that most women would fawn over. I’d like to admit I don’t, but that feeling deep in my stomach is stirring.
The feeling that stirred ten years ago when I met him in college.
“Okay.” I huff a laugh back.
“Great.” He smiles brightly.
“What are you two doing?” A voice calls, and someone clears their throat.
Gino and I jump apart.
Drew does all the tech stuff. Some would say hacking, but we prefer a more legal approach to the conversation. He met us in college, during late-night studying in the library. Most of the guys who work with Gino now are friends from college or childhood.
When Antonio died, a lot of people didn’t like the direction Gino wanted to head in and left to join other families. Some Gino even let get out without having to settle anything.
“N-Nothing,” Gino responds.
Real convincing.
“Okay then,” he says as he takes a step closer.
“So, I looked into the raid at the cafe a little bit, and there’s nothing outside of what we can already see.
They clearly drugged Mateo and then moved him into a van, then drove off.
” He pauses. “The only thing that’s noticeable is it’s just Lorenzo and a few of his guys, so either they came up with this plan on the spot or not everyone is in the know about it. ”
“What do you mean?” Gino asks.
“If the entire Russo family knew about this plan, they would have had a lot more men around, but there aren’t; it’s just some of the goons. And Salvo looks surprised when Mateo falls over, which leads me to believe he wasn’t ‘in the know.’”
“What the fuck, why would he do this? This doesn’t make any sense!” Gino yells. “We need to get our asses there and get them to release him.”
“I don’t know if that’s a great idea. We don’t know where he is, and if they feel like we’re on their tail, they could cut their losses and kill him,” Drew says.
“Drew’s right, Gino,” I mutter.
“I know. Fuck. We don’t tell Vanessa yet; I don’t want her even more stressed than she is.” He looks at us both pointedly.
“I’m going to keep running over more information, but I wanted to tell you the second I finished reviewing the footage,” Drew explains before leaving.
Gino stands with his thoughts for a minute, unmoving, then walks out of the room, mumbling, “I’ll be in my office.”
With the kitchen free, I cook breakfast and pile up a plate for Gino. Before I take it, I check in with Drew, telling him to help himself.
Normally, everyone would eat together in the kitchen, but for the last week, it’s been different. Mateo comes first.
Then my phone pings. Looking down, I see a new message highlighting my screen.
Unknown
You seem a little out of your depth on this. I can help you.
“What the hell?” I mutter to myself before shoving my phone in my pocket and heading up to Gino’s office.
Before I can enter, I hear Gino’s voice through the door.
“I have the photos to prove Lorenzo is a part of this,” I hear him say while he’s on the phone, I presume.
Whoever’s on the other line must speak for a moment.
“I don’t care, I want him back. I won’t stay away for long. If I have to, we'll be in Italy to get him ourselves.”
Then it goes silent, and I hear what sounds like his phone landing on the desk.
I softly knock on the door and hear him say, “Come in,” from beyond it.
I push the door open and walk inside, quickly spotting him behind his desk with his sleeves rolled up. His brown hair is slightly messy, and his olive skin is perfectly naturally tanned. I set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch and turn to walk out, but he stops me.
“Jules, I can't keep eating in silence. Can you please grab yourself some food and eat with me?”
He called me Jules again.
What is going on?
“Umm, sure. Be right back.”
I walk downstairs and pile eggs, bacon, and toast on a plate. Then, I also grab two fresh cups of coffee.
Heading back upstairs and into his office, I notice he’s still hunched over, staring at something on his desk.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The intel that Drew shared with us this morning about Lorenzo’s involvement. I need to know why he would do this,” he responds.
He comes over to the couch, sits next to me, and we sit in a comfortable silence, eating our food. This was how it used to be: we would sit and eat together and talk about anything and everything.
I stare at him for a second too long when he asks, “What?”
“Nothing,” I reply.
“You sure?” he presses. “You look like there is something you want to say.”
“Yep. It’s nothing,” I pop the ‘p’ too much, and his gaze shifts slightly, a tell-tale sign that he knows I’m lying.