I didn’t really give a shit if we owned the hottest clubs in the city. Our main business was drugs, and the numbers in my laptop told me that we weren’t selling as much as we could. “Heroin is slowing. These new designer drugs are what people are all over,” I said. “We need to make sure our distributor delivers on time. I don’t give a fuck if the labs are producing as fast as possible. It’s not fast enough. Pay him a visit.”
Matteo’s lips twisted in a creepy as fuck smile. “Will do.”
I shook my head with a smile of my own. “You sick fuck.”
“Takes one to know one.”
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and looked down at the screen. Romero. “Yes, Romero?”
“Sandro is passed out in the kitchen. Aria and Gianna are gone.”
My pulse rate doubled. The Russians. “Repeat that.” I closed the laptop and straightened in my chair. Matteo’s eyes slanted over to me, vigilance banishing his grin.
“He’s been drugged and they tied him up with tape. One of the cars is gone. Gianna and Aria must have packed some bags because clothes are missing in the wardrobe. There’s no sign of an attack. They must have run off.”
Run off? My eyes found the graffiti painting Aria had given me four months ago, which hung on the wall behind my desk.
“What’s going on?” Matteo asked, closing his laptop and putting it away.
I stood. Fury was simmering under my skin, and another emotion. A weak emotion I wouldn’t give space. An emotion I’d never bothered with until Aria, and now she was gone. She was fucking gone. “Romero found Sandro drugged and tied up on the floor of the penthouse. Aria and Gianna are gone.”
Matteo rose slowly. “You’re fucking kidding.”
I got into his face, so fucking angry, it was burning me up inside. Angry, and worried. Fucking worried because my wife was gone. Aria had run. Run from me. “Do you think I would joke about something like that?”
“I thought Aria was in love with you,” Matteo said snidely.
My fingers itched to close around his throat. To crush something. Fuck, it had felt so good when I’d crushed the last man’s throat. But Matteo hadn’t betrayed me. I should have wanted to hurt my wife for running from me, and yet I didn’t. Fuck. Damn you, Aria. Damn you for making me care.
I stormed out of the basement of the Sphere. Some of my men lingering at the bar watched me curiously. Others got up as if to join me on whatever crusade I was on. But I couldn’t risk them finding out that my own wife had run off, that I couldn’t even control the woman at my side.
Love. The root of weakness. That’s what our fucking father had called it. I didn’t like the man, had hated him with every fiber of my being, but perhaps he’d been right for once. Aria was turning me into a fool, and I had fucking allowed her to do it.
Matteo followed close behind me.
If he hadn’t wanted the fucking redhead, then nothing of this would have happened. The whole thing was no doubt Gianna’s fucking idea.
“This is Gianna’s fault. This girl is the root of every problem. Why couldn’t you stay the fuck away from her like I told you?”
“Probably for the same reason why you let Aria play with you,” Matteo muttered.
Fuck it. Matteo was my brother. If other men started thinking the same way, I’d have to make a bloody statement—again. All because of Aria. I got into my car and Matteo mounted his bike, then we were off to meet with Romero.
He was waiting for us in my penthouse, next to a delirious Sandro. That asshole should have watched Aria and Gianna; instead, he let two untrained women knock him out. He didn’t meet my fucking gaze, and I focused on Romero before I ended up killing that useless fucker. “Spill,” was all I got out of my fucking tight throat.
“Ten thousand dollars and two passports are gone. Looks like they planned this over a long period of time.”
I nodded, trying to mask what this information did to me. Aria had told me she loved me. I had told her I loved her, had treated her as well as I knew how to do, had never hurt her, and now this?
I’ll go where you go no matter how dark the path
Had the last few months been a fucking show? But nobody could be that good an actress. This was Gianna. Fucking Gianna’s fault.
“We need to go looking for them,” Matteo muttered, as if I didn’t know that.
I glared. “And where do you want to begin? They could be anywhere. They will hardly take their fucking mobiles with them.”
“Might be worth a try anyway,” Romero suggested quietly.