Chapter Twenty-Two LEO #3
The elevator doors slid open. Silence greeted me. Not normal silence. Wrong silence. The penthouse usually breathed at night. Soft piano music. The distant clink of glassware from the kitchen. Muted footsteps from staff moving carefully through the massive space. Tonight… Nothing.
The stillness hit me. Cold and unnatural. My stomach tightened. “Chiara?”
No answer came. Rain battered softly against the endless floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the skyline. Lightning flickered somewhere far beyond the Hudson River, briefly illuminating the black marble floors in silver. I stepped farther inside.
“Chiara?”
Still nothing. A strange unease crawled slowly beneath my skin. Maybe she was asleep. Or angry enough to ignore me.
I loosened my cuffs while walking toward her room, irritation already beginning to form. If she was attempting some childish silent treatment… The thought died the second I saw the bedroom door.
Open. My pulse shifted wrong. I moved faster. The room was empty. Cold. Untouched.
The massive bed remained perfectly made, the silk sheets smooth and undisturbed beneath dim golden lighting. No movement came from the bathroom either. No steam. No running water. Nothing. I frowned harder, calling her name out again.
The sound of her name echoed softly through the empty room. No answer. Something ugly twisted in my chest. I crossed quickly toward the closet. Empty. No shoes missing. No movement. No fucking Chiara.
The tightness in my chest sharpened. I stepped back into the hallway. Faster now. “Chiara!”
The shout cracked violently through the penthouse. Silence answered me. My heartbeat slammed hard against my ribs. Once. Twice. Then too fucking fast. No.
I moved through the penthouse quickly now, opening doors hard enough they slammed into walls behind me. Guest room. Empty. Library. Empty. Private theater. Nothing.
My breathing started turning uneven. A horrible feeling clawed slowly up my spine. The office downstairs sat dark too. The kitchen empty. No sign of staff. Too quiet. Too still. Fear hit me so suddenly it almost felt like getting stabbed. Sharp. Cold. Instant.
“Chiara!” The roar tore from my throat rougher this time. Still nothing.
My mind started racing violently through possibilities. Kidnapped. Taken. Hurt. Dead. Jesus Christ.
I spun toward the massive skyline windows overlooking my city. Rain streaked violently down the glass. Too high. Too far. My stomach dropped so hard it physically hurt. No.
I ran upstairs again. Actually ran.
The penthouse felt enormous and impossible, every hallway stretching too long beneath cold recessed lighting while thunder rolled faintly outside. My chest tightened harder with every empty room.
I stopped dead in the kitchen. A teacup sat abandoned beside the marble island. Cold. Half-finished. Beside it lay one of Sergio’s spare keycards. My vision tunneled.
No.
For one long second, all I could hear was blood roaring inside my ears. Gone. She was gone. The realization hollowed me out so completely it felt like my ribs cracked open around it. Chiara escaped. I stared at the keycard while something dark and feral detonated inside my chest.
“No.” The word barely came out. I grabbed the marble island hard enough my knuckles screamed. “She fucking left.”
The sound of my own voice barely sounded human anymore. A violent crack split through the kitchen. The marble countertop shattered beneath my hands. Pain exploded through my knuckles. I didn’t feel it.
All I could picture was Chiara alone somewhere in my city. Young. Terrified. Beautiful enough to attract every predator in the city. My breathing turned ragged. How long ago? Who helped her? Did someone touch her? Was she crying? The thought alone made murder flash white-hot behind my eyes.
Angelo. The realization hit viciously. My cousin.
That smug fucking parasite had been circling her from the start, whispering poison into her ear while pretending to smile. I thought it was her father, but I was wrong all along.
Rage overtook everything. I grabbed the nearest crystal decanter and hurled it across the penthouse.
Glass exploded against the wall. Then another.
A sculpture crashed beside the fireplace.
A lamp shattered. The silence broke beneath pure violence while thunder rolled outside the windows. I wanted blood. Needed it.
The elevator chimed behind me. I spun. Sergio stepped halfway out before stopping cold. His eyes swept over the destroyed penthouse. Broken crystal. Shattered glass. Marble dust. Then his gaze landed on me.
And something cautious entered his expression. “Boss…”
“WHERE IS SHE?” The roar ripped through the penthouse violently. Sergio froze for half a second. That was enough.
I crossed the distance before he could react. My fist connected with his jaw hard enough to slam him back into the elevator wall with a metallic crash. Blood burst across his mouth.
“Leo…” he rasped. I hit him again. Blind rage swallowed everything.
“She was YOUR responsibility!” I screamed. Another punch.
Sergio grabbed my wrist before the next one landed, shoving hard enough to create distance. “She stole my fucking keys!”
“I SHOULD KILL YOU!” And Christ, I meant it. My breathing came harsh and uneven while Sergio wiped blood from his split lip with the back of his hand.
“Listen to yourself,” he snapped.
“No!” I snarled. “You listen! She’s gone!”
The last word broke apart coming out of my mouth.
Gone. Ugly fear surged back harder than before.
My stomach twisted violently as images flooded my head one after another.
Chiara dragged into some black SUV. Chiara crying.
Chiara running barefoot through rain-soaked streets.
Chiara terrified and alone. Or worse, Angelo touching her.
Something murderous flashed across Sergio’s face too. He saw the realization happen in mine.
“Fuck,” he muttered darkly.
I grabbed him by the collar. “If he touched her…”
“He probably did,” Sergio snapped back. “Which means wasting time beating the shit out of me won’t help.”
Silence crashed between us. My chest heaved violently. I could barely think straight. Sergio stared at me carefully now. Not afraid. Concerned. That was worse.
“You’re panicking,” he said quietly.
“I’m going to kill him,” I said.
“Probably.”
“I’ll skin him alive,” I hissed.
“Leo.”
My hands tightened harder around his collar. “You don’t understand.”
But Sergio did understand. I saw it in his eyes. The horrible truth neither of us wanted spoken aloud. This wasn’t obsession anymore. Wasn’t control. Wasn’t possessiveness. The terror ripping through me felt far uglier than that.
Because somewhere between forcing Chiara into my world and listening to her cry in her sleep… She became something dangerous to me. Something precious. And now she was gone.