Maybe if I glare at my phone hard enough, a dozen missed call and text notifications from Max will suddenly pop up. But of course that doesn’t happen. I know the damn thing is working because Mo keeps calling me. She’s desperate to know what happened after I left Toby’s house with Max the other night, and although I’ve told her again and again that he just brought me home, she doesn’t seem to be buying it.
She can speculate all she wants. I’ll never tell her the truth about Max and me. Well, maybe not never. But not yet.
A groan of frustration rips out of me when I get Max’s voicemail for the thousandth time. I no longer care that I’ll look like a desperate stalker when he switches his phone back on. I’m worried about him. He would never break a promise like that. Not to me.
“That thing will burst into flames if you keep looking at it like that, kid,” Dante says as he walks into the kitchen.
I’m too distracted to even give a snappy retort. “I’m worried about Max.”
Rolling his eyes, he sighs.
“I’m serious, Dante. He said he would call me.”
That gets me an even bigger eye roll, which lights the fuse of my rage. I’m aware that I sound like a lovesick teenager, but that’s not what this is. “Stop with the eye rolling,” I snap. “I’m telling you that something’s wrong. I haven’t been able to get through to his cell since yesterday morning. It goes to voicemail every single time. And I haven’t spoken to him since the night before last.”
He snorts. “If he has any sense, he’ll be staying out of the way. Hanging his head in shame.”
“Can you stop being an asshole for like one minute? This isn’t like him, and you know it.”
He pours himself a mug of coffee, his brow furrowed in a frown. “He’s probably cooling off somewhere, Joey. At his fucking cabin in the woods or something. I’m sure he’ll call you soon.”
“Can I go to his place with Ash and Henry?”
“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Guiseppina,” he says, his tone weary. “Can’t you just accept that maybe Max is not the man for you and he’s doing you a favor by staying away?”
Tears prick at my eyes. My brother is an overbearing, overprotective jerk a lot of the time, but it’s not like him to be cruel.
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m interrupted by one of the armed guards. “Boss, there’s someone at the gate. A young girl. Says she’s here about Max.”
Every hair on my body stands on end. “A young girl?”
“Yeah.”
Dante goes to speak, but I cut him off. “How young?”
His eyes dart from me to Dante, then back to me. “Um. Could be anywhere from sixteen to twenty. I can never tell. She’s pregnant though.”
“P-pregnant?”
Dante glowers at the guard. “Who the fuck is she, and what does she want?”
“She claims Max is missing and she thinks someone took him.”
My heart rate kicks up several gears, and I turn to Dante, hands on my hips. “I told you I couldn’t get a hold of him.”
With a frown, Dante tells the guard to show the girl into his study.
I pace up and down Dante’s study while he sits quietly in his chair. How can he be this calm? Max might be missing!
The same guard from before escorts the young woman in. His assessment of her age was spot on—I can’t pinpoint it either. But she’s definitely pregnant. Very pregnant.
Her eyes are bright red, and it’s apparent she’s been crying a lot. She rushes into the room, her hands flapping as she fidgets nervously. Something about her is endearing.
“Take a seat,” Dante says, not unkindly, and she sits down. “Who are you?” he asks.
She blinks at him.
He sighs. “Your name?”
“Kristin. Kristin Campbell.”
“You said Max is missing?” I ask her, dispensing with any further pleasantries.
“Y-yes,” she sniffs.
“Why do you think that?” Dante asks.
“I know he is.” Her eyes fill with tears and she swallows. “He was supposed to go to New Jersey yesterday, but he never got on the flight. He never checked in with me, even though he promised he would.” She starts to cry again, fat tears rolling down her face.
Meanwhile I feel like I’m going to puke. Why was Max checking in with her? Who the hell is she?
“Why was he going to Jersey?” Dante asks, and I’m relieved that at least one of us is keeping their head. That’s his superpower—remaining calm when the world is in chaos. Taking a deep breath, I try to channel his energy.
Her eyes dart around the room. “He, uh, he was looking for his uncle Vito.”
Dante scowls. “His uncle?”
“Who? What?” I don’t recall Max having an uncle.
Ignoring me, Dante shakes his head. “Why the hell would he have any interest in that lying piece of shit?”
Kristin blanches at the venom in Dante’s tone, but she leans forward, chin tipped in defiance. “Because he went missing. Probably kidnapped too. Max was looking into it.”
“How do you know he didn’t get on the plane?” I ask her, my feet now rooted in place.
“I called the airline.”
Dante gives her a skeptical look. “Airlines don’t give that kind of information.”
“They do if you get a sympathetic mom of three and you cry and tell her you’re six months pregnant and your boyfriend and father of your baby has disappeared.”
No. That can’t be true. My knees threaten to buckle under my weight.
Dante shoots me a look of concern, then returns his attention to the young girl. “And is he? Your boyfriend? Your baby’s father?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice firm.
My whole world stops turning. I’m definitely going to be sick. I clamp my lips together because if I don’t, I will wail so loudly that the house will crumble to the ground. If I open my mouth, I will shriek and I will scream. I’ll call her a liar and demand she tells me the truth.
My legs tremble. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t even be. Is Kristin the situation he was fixing? Bile fills my mouth. He fucked me and told me he loved me while he was with her. Did they plan a life together? Marriage and more babies while he was making me fall in love with him and promising me that I belonged to him?
Dante quietly says my name and pats the empty chair beside him. His eyes lock on mine and he gives me a subtle nod, letting me know that he has my back. Reminding me that I’m a Moretti, and this is not how we do things. I’m not going to show this complete stranger that she’s torn out my heart and smashed it into a million tiny pieces.
Swallowing down the hurt and pain and rage that wants to spill out of me, I suck in a breath. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. Maximo DiMarco is a lying, cheating snake. I hate him. I hope he has been kidnapped. I hope he’s suffering right now.
Dante watches me until he’s sure I’ve regained control. With a satisfied nod, he shifts his attention back to Kristin. “You think the people who took his uncle also took him?”
My hands ball unto fist by my sides.
“Maybe. I-I don’t know. I know he worked for you, so maybe it was something to do with that?”
“Do you know anything about who he was meeting in New Jersey? Anything about who took his uncle and why Max is trying to find him? You know he hates his uncle, right?”
“I do know he hates him, but family is family,” she sniffs. “I don’t know who he’s meeting or who has his uncle.”
“Fuck!” Dante slams his fists down onto his desk.
I take a deep breath and try to ignore my racing heart. I am Joey Moretti. I don’t wilt like some goddamn delicate flower just because things don’t go my way. All that matters right now is finding Max. Then, once he’s safe, I will cut off his dick with a blunt spoon and he can fuck off to somewhere far, far away and live unhappily ever after with his little girlfriend. “When was the last time you saw him?” I ask, my calm voice belying the torrent of rage that consumes me.
“Y-yesterday morning when he left for the airport.”
Dante takes over the questioning again. “You were in his apartment?”
Kristin shrugs. “I live there.”
She lives with him? No wonder the no-good, lying bag of shit wouldn’t take me to his place the other night. God, I’m so fucking stupid.
Hold it together, Joey.
“And when did you realize he was missing?” my brother asks.
“Later that day, when he didn’t call me like he promised. I checked that the flight had landed. And then I called the airline a dozen times. Late last night, I finally got someone to confirm that he didn’t board the flight. I didn’t know where else to go, but I know that he works for you, Mr. Moretti, so I came here.”
“Max doesn’t just work for me,” Dante says. “How the fuck do I know you’re not a part of all this? He never once mentioned a pregnant girlfriend. Certainly not one who lived with him.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink. “You know he’s a very private person. The baby was unexpected.” Looking down, she rubs a hand over her bump. “But I do live with him. The code for the elevator is his father’s birthday. You don’t clap once to turn the lights on because Max thought it was too boring. You have to do a two clap, three clap thing. It’s so annoying when you need a pee in the middle of the night.” She gives us a faint smile as though we should be sympathetic to her cause, but all I want to do is scratch her eyes out.
Assaulting my mind is an image of her untangling herself from Max’s strong arms to get up and use the bathroom. I try not to think about the various intimate moments they must have shared, but the images persist like annoying little pop-up ads.
Dante pushes himself to his feet. “You’ll stay here until we find him. My wife will make up a spare room for you.”
I scowl at him, but I know he’s doing the right thing.
“Thank you,” she says, tears running down her cheeks again. “I’d like to help though. If I can do anything at all. I just want him back.”
I press my lips together to avoid saying any of the hundred things that are running through my head. She just wants him back? Well, Maximo DiMarco is a lying, cheating snake. And after I’m done with him, there probably won’t be much left worth having.
