The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

That was the last thing we all needed.

But if everything was already in play, there was nothing we could do to stop it. We were too far away. New York would feel the pain first. And then it would find its way down to us, over to Philly, and, eventually, Chicago.

"You're quiet. That went well. As well as can be expected anyway."

"Where the hell is my father?" I asked, looking around, reaching into my pocket to find my phone.

"I've never known him to be late," Lucky agreed.

"Get a call out to the restaurant. I'll call Dario."

An hour and endless calls later, no one had seen him, no one had heard from him.

Matteo was called back in, all of us sure things had just hit the fan, that possibly, Lorenzo was a distraction, that someone was making a move on the family by taking out my father.

"Where the fuck is he?" I demanded, grabbing his guard by the lapels, slamming him up against the wall of the restaurant.

"I don't know, Luca! I've been looking like the rest of you."

"You're not supposed to have to look. It is your job to be right by his side, to keep an eye, to fucking protect him. That's your fucking job."

"He was in the kitchen. I was there with him. Then he went to the bathroom. And I haven't seen him since."

"And you didn't call me because..."

"I called Leandro. He said to wait until you checked in since you were dealing with New York."

"I will deal with you and Leandro later," I snapped, slamming him back one more time before dropping him, my heart hammering in my chest, fear snaking around my throat.

"Alright," Lucky said, pushing the door open, walking out, holding up a hand. "From what the new guy in the kitchen said, Uncle Ant waited until everyone was turned, then rushed out of the bathroom and out the back door."

"Why the fuck would he leave on his own?" I asked, feeling a headache start to pound in my temples.

"I don't know, man," Lucky said, shaking his head. "The guards are for his protection. He's never tried to shake them before. Matteo just pulled up," he told me, nodding over my shoulder.

"What the fuck took you so long?" I demanded, uncertainty making me angrier than was normal for me.

"Nice to see you too, Luca. How's Romy?"

"You can't be talking fucking pleasantries right now. When dad is fucking missing," I growled.

"What day is it Luca?" he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Friday. Like that fucking matters right now."

"Think," he suggested.

"I don't want to play games with you, Matteo. What does the day have anything to do with why Dad is mis—oh," I said, it all falling into place, knocking my wind out of me. "Shit."

I'd been so wrapped up in my own life, with this container issue, with enjoying my time with Romy, that I had completely forgotten.

And

of course I could forget.

I'd been so young.

The memory wasn't as fresh for me.