“I’ll see you again,” he says before turning. “Sooner rather than later, I’d guess.”
Visibly vibrating, I watch his exit.
Dario rushes into the room, unsettled by the brevity of the meeting. “What the hell happened? That was quick.”
I’m too fucking pissed to answer him. He takes one look at the half-eaten meal before his gaze drifts to the photograph on the table.
An exhale leaves him in concern. “Fuck.”
The Maserati screeches as it swings into the driveway.
The men at the gate scarcely manage to open it in time.
I leap out of the driver’s side, race up the stairs, and into the manor.
An instinct, an overwhelming fear that followed his threat, sends me into my father’s parlor in a whirlwind. Dominic got precisely what he wanted. He didn’t go there to negotiate.
He went there to show me he knows my weakness.
A wife who, to everyone, is supposed to be dead.
He was toying with you.
He couldn’t know where she is.
You just checked. She’s fine. She’s safe.
My fingers tremble as I turn the dial on the safe under the desk, flinging open the door. The papers only I am aware of are right where I left them. The pictures, everything. I close my eyes, finally taking a breath.
She’s fine.
She’s—
My eyes fixate on the international phone number scrawled on a piece of paper. Glancing at the door, feeling outside of my body for the first time since I seized this position, I grab a burner phone and dial. The line rings for what feels like an eternity before defaulting to voicemail. Frustrated, I re-enter the numbers, pacing the room.
I hear the line click. A man answers. “Buenos noches.”
Placing my hand on the desk, I open my mouth, putting good use to the Spanish that was drilled into me as a child. “There’s an apartment above your café. I'm looking to rent it.”
“I'm afraid that’s not possible, my friend.”
My hand slips. I stagger a step.
She’s fine.
“I see. Thank you.”
Before I hang up, he concludes, “It’ll be ready to see in a couple days. There’s been police in and out, but don’t let that deter you. This is usually a safe neighborhood, and I’ve never had any problems here.”
My eyes stretch to the point of pain. “Police?”
“Yes, the woman who lived here… They say she’s dead.”
Sophie/Cara
We’re ten thousand feet in the air when I notice the silver cord around my neck is missing.
Along with it, Xavier’s wedding band.
