Waiting at a stoplight, I took another hit from my weed vape and held in the smoke as long as I could. I exhaled, and the mellow sensation rolled through my bloodstream like a warm bath. Cazzo, that was nice.
I leaned against the headrest and closed my eyes. This feeling was much better than drinking alcohol, which only made me feel even more like my father. He’d taken to booze now that Frankie was gone. Fausto and I already had enough in common; no need to add a drinking problem to the list.
A car honked behind me. I opened my eyes and gave the driver the finger. Stronzo. I put my Ferrari in drive and sped off into the midday beach traffic. The music pumped from my stereo, a song I hadn’t heard in ages. I tapped my hands against the steering wheel, changing gears swiftly, as I sang along. Dio, I felt good. Thirsty, but good.
I wish I could fuck Paulo right now.
The thought nearly ruined my buzz, so I shoved it aside. If I wanted to keep Paulo alive then I couldn’t see him again. Except I didn’t want to fuck anyone else. I still loved him.
My chest tightened and my heart thumped so hard, I swear it was louder than the bass in the song. I hadn’t slept with anyone in three weeks, and it was torture. Even still, my dick remained limp at the strip club last night, much to the disappointment of the girl grinding on my lap. Life would be so much easier if I liked women.
Or if I could have Paulo.
My father believed it was so simple. The great Fausto Ravazzani gave his orders and expected us all to fall in line.
I told you, you can do what you like after you are settled and have children.
Except Paulo would never wait while I knocked my wife up enough times to fill out the family tree—and I didn’t expect him to.
Cristo, was Paulo fucking someone else already?
The thought turned my blood to ice, even with the herb in my system. Had he forgotten me and moved on in the last three weeks? I bet he had. He seemed sad enough when I broke things off, but maybe those tears had been fake. Has he started posting on the hookup apps and meeting other men?
I had to find out.
I pulled into the drive of the beach house, and carried a box full of Zia’s cornetti and sfogliatelle with me to the front door. Frankie still wasn’t eating enough, but maybe I could coax her into a few bites. At least we were miserable together. Though I hated to see her sad, being with her every day has kept me sane after my breakup. That, and the weed.
I texted Sal, her guard, to let him know I was here then used my key in case she was asleep. I headed for the kitchen first. The rooms were empty and quiet, sounds from the beach faint in the background. An old cup of coffee sat on the kitchen island, Frankie’s tablet resting there. Had she gone back to bed?
“Sal,” I called quietly. Normally the big man sat at the back door, not quite inside but nearby in case of trouble. Except his chair stood empty. I checked my watch. Two o’clock. Sal should be here.
Were they on the beach? I scanned the sand stretching out along the edge of the water. Frankie hasn’t felt up to long walks or swims in a while. There were lots of people on the beach but none of them were Frankie or Sal.
This was strange.
I dialed Sal’s cell phone and retrieved my gun from the inside of my jacket. Keeping absolutely quiet, I went upstairs to see if she was in bed.
The master bed was rumpled but empty. She wasn’t in the bathroom, either. Ma che cazzo?
Sweat broke out on the back of my neck, every part of me now on high alert. I quickly checked the rest of the upstairs then returned downstairs. I called Sal’s replacement, Luca. He picked up on the second ring. “Where are you?” I barked.
“Just about to leave the house, why?”
“Did you hear from Sal today?”
“Yes, this morning. He wanted to know if we could swap shifts tomorrow.”
“He’s not here.” I began opening closet doors and checking behind furniture. “Both Sal and Frankie are missing.”
“That is impossible,” he said, and I could hear him moving in the background. “I’m coming right now, but you should call Marco. They can review the security footage at the castello.”
As I hung up on Luca, I returned to the kitchen to look in the pantry. As soon as I pulled open the door, my heart sank. Sal was there, unmoving. Minchia! Was he dead?
Worse, where the fuck was Frankie?
This was bad. This was very, very bad.
I had to call my father.
Fausto
I rubbed my eyes behind my glasses. The words on the screen were fuzzy, my body too tired to focus.
Sighing, I picked up my Campari and tonic. I’d taken to drinking early in the afternoons, a habit Marco disliked immensely but one I found necessary to dull the ache inside my chest. The past two nights I had fallen into bed in a drunken stupor and passed out for a few hours.
It was an improvement over weeks of sleepless nights.
Marco sat in the corner on his phone, pretending to ignore me while really watching me closely. He wasn’t fooling me.
I read the numbers on my screen again, wanting to prove I was still on top of my empire. “Toni just made us over two million Euros by shorting a tech stock.”
Marco grunted.
“Maybe we don’t need D’Agostino for this computer idea.”
He didn’t respond.
I drummed my fingers on the desk and sipped my cocktail. When I drank, my thoughts frequently drifted back to her, even when I tried to prevent it.
She’d made a fool of me. I’d mooned over her like a lovesick teenager with his first taste of pussy. All the while she’d been keeping a secret from me, one that could destroy everything I’d built. I would never forgive her.
I narrowed my gaze on my cousin. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”
“I’m fine where I am.”
He was babysitting me, like I was a toddler. I didn’t like it. “Marco—” My phone lit up and Giulio’s name appeared on the screen. I hadn’t seen him since our argument.
Swiping to answer, I held the phone up to my ear. “Pronto.”
“She’s not here.”
I heard the panic before I understood the words. Straightening in my chair, I immediately put it on the speaker so Marco could hear. “What do you mean? Where is she?”
“The house, it’s empty. No Frankie, no guards.”
Marco and I exchanged a look. What the fuck? Had she run?
Or had something terrible happened instead?
My chest seized, my heart suddenly forgetting how to function, and I got to my feet. Marco began dialing on his phone, probably trying to reach the men I had stationed at the beach house, but I remained focused on my son. “Show me,” I barked.
Giulio turned on the video and I saw he was in the kitchen, a gun in his other hand. “When I got here,” he explained, “the back door was open. I found Sal out cold in the pantry.”
He showed me Sal, pale and lifeless on the ground. “Is he dead?” I snapped.
“He’s alive,” my son said. “There’s a syringe next to him on the floor.”
“Where is she?” I shouted, yanking at the knot of my tie with one hand to loosen it. Had Francesca somehow drugged Sal and then escaped?
No matter what happens, I will leave here. Somehow, some way, I will get away from you.
“Search every inch of that house. I am on my way.” I hung up and started across the room.
Marco held up a hand, talking rapidly on his phone. He grabbed my arm to stop me as I passed. “She left for a walk on the beach. Nothing out of the ordinary. Sal stayed behind at first, then went after her. Vic is watching the camera footage now.”
I sprinted out the door and down the corridor. The security room was in the east section of the castello, and I ran there like a madman.
Vic was at the desk, a wall of screens in front of him. He was our best tech guy, a hacker, with skills that we put to use all over the globe. His gaze was locked on the screen with Sal in the chair at the beach house, his eyes tracking something on the beach. Francesca.
“She’s been gone for about ten minutes,” Vic said, moving the video forward. “Sal watches her and then gets up to follow.”
“Why weren’t you on the cameras today?” I snarled. “How the fuck did this happen?”
He swallowed but didn’t meet my eye, his attention still on the screen. “I’m sorry, Don Ravazzani. I was working on a security update. I wasn’t paying close attention to the cameras.” On the monitor a dark shape crept into the kitchen—a man carrying Sal over his shoulder.
“Who is that?” I leaned in and watched as a man in a black mask tossed Sal into the pantry. A few seconds later another camera caught him leaving. Was this someone she’d hired to help her? Or was it one of my enemies? “Is she still on the beach? Can we get the CCTV footage?”
Vic shifted to a laptop and began typing. “It might take some time.”
I pounded my fist on the desk. “There is no time. You’re supposed to be this tech genius. So find those fucking cameras. I need to know what happened to her—”
“Rav.” Marco held out his phone in front of my face. “You should take this.”
“Not now.”
“Rav,” he implored, his expression as serious as I’d ever seen. “It’s D’Agostino. He says he has something that belongs to you.”
