Angelo

I wake in a wash of warm sunlight over the bed, the scent of citrus and clean linen surrounding me, and in the first few moments, when I don't yet remember the worries of yesterday, I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. There's a pleasant arousal humming through my blood, my cock hard against my thigh. I sink back into the pillows, anticipating the warm caress of my wife's lips and tongue over the length of it, the same pleasure I've been spoiled with every recent morning. I'll come in her mouth this morning, I think, in those last half-asleep moments. And then I'll make her come with mine.


It's only when I don't feel anything that the surprise of it wakes me up. Rosalia enjoys our morning routine as much as I do, and I'm startled to find that not only is she not between my thighs, but she's not in bed with me at all. I sit upright, rubbing one hand across my face, glancing towards the en-suite bathroom. It occurs to me that she might not be feeling well, and I get up quickly, striding naked to the bathroom and knocking briefly before pushing the door open.

'Rosalia? Are you alright—"

She's not there. I can see the balcony and the pool—I have a line of sight on both—and I know she's not out there either. And in that moment, I'm not sure I've ever felt anything like the frantic, overwhelming fear that crashes over me.


My first thought is to call for security and ask if they've seen her—I tell myself that she might have gone down to the lobby to ask about something, that she might have just stepped out for a moment. But deep down, I know it's something worse. That my fears from yesterday were justified.

That fear only intensifies when my security says that they haven't seen her either. It's impossible that someone could have taken her from our room without knowing, which means that she's either been harmed in some other part of the hotel—equally unlikely—or she slipped past them and went out alone for some reason. Why would you do that? I think frantically, rubbing my hand over my mouth and pacing until my lips feel raw and my emotions are a tangled mess. Rosalia knows better. I know she knows better. I can't imagine that she'd feel so safe here that she'd throw all caution to the wind—but then again, I remember, she's never been away from home before. This must feel like an impossibly far distance for danger to follow us.


But I'm very afraid that it has.

My second thought is to call Luciano—again. I'd called him yesterday after getting back to the hotel and left him a message, telling him what I was worried about. Now I call again, unsure of the time difference in my absolute panic, and hoping that he picks up.

'Angelo?" His voice sounds rough, a little sleepy, but he answers. 'Is everything alright?"

'I think Rosalia's missing." I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. 'I sent you a message yesterday."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. 'I was going to wait to tell you—" Luciano hesitates. 'Sandrino's Syndicate spies managed to dig up some information. There's reason to think that Enzo Romano was behind Vincezio's death. We're still looking into it, but there's—"

'Where is he?" A sudden, terrible fear grips me. I don't need to know what Luciano has found to know that it makes sense. Enzo had hated Vincezio for years. He had resented his son not being engaged to Rosalia in the first place. I hadn't thought he would go as far as murder—but the pieces fit together. And if he knew we were coming here—

'I'm not sure." Luciano's voice is clearer now, as if he's gotten out of bed and walked to somewhere that he can talk without disturbing Sofia. 'You think he's there? In Greece?"

'I think if she's missing, that's a real possibility. I sent my security out to look and ask questions—but even if she just stepped out for a minute, she should be back by now." I grit my teeth, rage overwhelming the feelings of panic and flooding through me.'Fuck!"

Luciano lets out a slow breath. 'Sandrino has a contact there—a man called Adrian Drakos. I'll send you his information, and I'll give him a call…let you know as soon as he's aware of what's going on, and you can go and see him. He has people everywhere there. He's not agoodman, per se, but he's helped us before. If Rosalia is missing, and if Enzo—or anyone else, for that matter—is behind it, he can help you."

'The Family can't know about this," I say tersely. 'Not until we get to the bottom of it. I don't think Rizzo is behind it, but I also don't trust him entirely. If he thought it was best for the Family as a whole for Enzo to get his hands on Rosalia, he might not stop it."

'He sees things—differently," Luciano says slowly. 'I agree it's best to do this without his interference."

There's a knock at the door, and I go to answer it. It's one of my security, and I tell Luciano to hold on as I speak to him.

Within minutes, I have a picture of what's happened to Rosalia. Questioning the owner of the small floral shop across the road managed to net him the information that she saw a dark-haired woman surrounded by three men, but before she could see much more, she had a customer, and when she looked back to see if the girl was alright, she was gone.There could be plenty of dark-haired women that it could be,I try to tell myself, but I recognize the description of the dress she was wearing.

'She was taken," I tell Luciano, when I get back on the phone. 'Just by three men—no real descriptors yet. But if you can get me that information—"

'I will," he promises. 'Give me a little time—an hour or two. Drakos isn't an easy man to deal with, but I'll get you his information and make sure you can safely go and see him."

Waiting even a short amount of time feels impossible. I have no idea what's happening to Rosalia, but my thoughts are flooded with every possible terrible scenario, keeping me pacing until the moment my phone buzzes again with Luciano's name on the screen.

I have to find her. And I won't give up until I do.

Two hours after Luciano calls, I find myself walking up to three burly security guards outside of an expansive villa on the water. They look at me suspiciously, hands twitching towards their weapons, and for a moment, I want to plow past them, break into Drakos' home and demand his help. I want to tear apart this entire fucking island until I find Rosalia again. I don't want to be patient, ortalk, or wait another moment before finding Enzo Romano and turning him inside out.

But I take a deep breath, and give them the passphrase that Luciano gave me.

'La mano che lancia la moneta sa se vince."I pause, waiting, and they nod, stepping aside.

'He'll be on the patio," the tallest of the three guards tells me. I walk past them, out to a huge stone patio overlooking the water, gauzy curtains flowing in the breeze, and a man in a tailored black suit standing at the edge of it.

'If I lived in a place where I was on vacation every day, I'm not sure if I'd always dress like I was going to the office," I say dryly, and Adrian Drakos turns to face me.

'I am never on vacation." His mouth turns up on one side in a smirk. 'I'm not sure that I ever have been. Luciano sent you by way of Sandrino, hm? I should start charging them a commission for the amount of times they need my help. But then again, Sandrino has a deal with the Wolf now, so maybe I simply hope that he keeps Vladimir from looking my way." Drakos shrugs. 'What do you need—"

'Angelo Santoro. Don Santoro, from Chicago." I have a feeling that my title doesn't matter much to this man, and Luciano might already have told him, but it feels as if it's worth saying. 'My wife is missing."

'Luciano told me. I already have men looking. Luciano said that he's sending some men over on a flight and asked me to house them." Adrian's expression says exactly what he thinks ofthat, though he doesn't comment further on it otherwise. 'There are only a few places here where a private jet can land. I have someone looking into that, too. Give me a day, Angelo," he says calmly. 'We will find out where your wife is."

I'm afraid to hope that he's telling the truth. 'You're sure of that?" I frown. 'This island may not bethatlarge, but to find someone like that so quickly—"

Adrian smirks again, a casual, easy expression on his face, but there's a hint of something else beneath it—something that tells me that he's not a man that anyone would want to be on the wrong side of. 'I spent twenty years working for the Syndicate,adelfós," he says flatly. 'I have been on this island for a long time now. Nothing happens here that I want to know about that I do not find. A day, Angelo. And we will find her."

I'm not entirely sure that I believe him. I spend the day anxious, pacing, alternating between fearful imagination and calls with Luciano, who is insistent that I stay at Adrian's villa rather than go back to the hotel. 'Two of your household security were meant to be on duty the night that Vincezio was murdered, and weren't," Luciano tells me. 'Someone changed the shift logs. I've called Vasilev—he's going to question them." Luciano hesitates. 'Unless you say otherwise, of course—"

'No." I shake my head. Even knowing what Nikolai's methods ofquestioningare, I can't bring myself to care. Nothing is too much when it comes to finding Rosalia. I want to be both here and there at once; my utter helplessness at this moment at being somewhere that I can do so little and so far from where I could do something back at home makes me feel as if I'm slowly going mad. 'I trust you. Do what needs to be done. I'm waiting on Drakos' information now."

'Speaking of—" Drakos walks out onto the patio, his expression grim. 'We've tracked Enzo down—or at least, a man fitting this description. With some—encouragement, we found informants who saw a van approaching a house here—" He spreads a map of the island out on the table, and points out a road near the other side of it. 'A dark-haired girl being taken out of it, wearing a dress matching the description of the one you gave me. From what I was told, there's a decent amount of security surrounding this house—probably more inside."

He frowns, standing back. 'Luciano's men are here. I have men who can help as well. But—"

'I don't care." I shake my head. 'Whatever caution you're going to give me, I'll go myself if it means a chance at getting Rosalia back. It'll be worse if he gets her back to Chicago."

Adrian shakes his head. 'This is why I've never married," he mutters, turning his attention back to the map. 'Luciano will be recompensing me for this. Sandrino will owe me a favor, though, so there is that, at least. And besides—" he shrugs, his eyes flicking over the roadways. 'I don't like a man who comes onto my island and makes himself at home like this."

His island. I nearly snort at that, but manage to refrain. If I'm getting his help, that's all that matters.

'Your security is armed already?" Drakos looks pleased when I nod. 'Good. I have weapons for you. We'll go after dark."

I nearly protest. For a moment, all my good sense is wiped out by the need to get to Rosalianow, my overwhelming fear of what's happening to her. But Drakos is right. We'll have a better chance of slipping in and getting to her after it's dark, when we can have at least some element of surprise.

The waiting is agonizing. I strap on the weapons Drakos provided me as we get ready to leave, my fear and anger building with each passing minute.I'm going to find you,I repeat over and over in my head, knowing there's no possible way she could hear me, hoping that she believes in me enough to know that I will.

We split up into three separate vehicles, coming at the house where Drakos believes Enzo is staying from different directions. On another night, the island after dark might have been balmy and romantic, setting the mood for Rosalia and me—but tonight, it just feels ominous, the dark closing in around us as we slip from the van and out into the streets, which are oddly empty.

'I have my ways," Drakos murmurs when he sees me looking up and down the streets in confusion, and then he says nothing else after that, motioning for us to move forward.

He puts his hand up when we reach the end of the street, halting me and the men behind us. Some yards away, I see four black-garbed men standing outside a door. And then, in the darkness, I hear the soft sound of silenced gunshots—four of them, coming from above.

The men drop. I see dark liquid start to spread from underneath them, out onto the street, and Drakos motions for us to move forward.

In the shadows, I glimpse the other groups of men with us. We converge on the house from the three points, and Drakos gives me a look. He knows well enough that this isn't something I've done before, that I don't know what's waiting for us on the other side. I've agreed already to follow his lead.

I've never been an enforcer or an assassin. But I'm going to get my wife back.

We slip towards the back door, the other groups coming in towards the windows at the side. One of Drakos' men, a huge guard built like a professional wrestler, waits for Drakos' signal—and then, the moment it's given, he lunges forward and kicks the door in with one hard blow that rattles the doorframe of the house.

And then, everything happens at once.

Enzo's men are on alert as soon as they hear the sound, but we have the element of surprise. The rattle of gunfire fills the air, and I act on instinct, giving myself the briefest second to make sure that the man I'm shooting isn't one of ours before I pull the trigger again and again, the scent of hot metal and gunpowder and blood filling the air. Through the chaos, I see Drakos motion towards a staircase leading down, and we start to move that way, ears ringing from the gunshots. Behind us, I can hear the cracking of glass as the windows break, the front door slamming open as more of our men come in that way, converging on the house as I go towards the stairs and the small hope that I have that it will lead me to Rosalia.

I've never killed someone before today. I've never gotten my hands bloody like so many of the other men I work with, but I drop the guards at the end of the stairs without a thought, pushing forward as one of Drakos' men breaks open the door in front of us—

The crack of a gun in the room brings me up short, the hiss of the bullet going past me making my blood freeze for a moment before I hear a snarl of pain from behind me, the heavy thud of someone going to their knees. I spin on one heel, frantically looking, and see Drakos half-down on the floor, his hand clutching just beneath his ribs.

'Go," he growls, breathing hard as his men start to circle him, watching the stairs and the room ahead of us simultaneously. 'I'll—manage."

The other men still with me are already pushing forward. For a moment, I can't entirely make sense of what's going on in the chaos—and then I seeher.

Rosalia is handcuffed to a bedframe, curled up in terror on the mattress, her hair tangled and face streaked with tears. And on the other side of her, Enzo is standing there, a gun in his hand.


'I wasn't expecting quite so much drama," he murmurs, his finger curling around the trigger. 'Or such a show of force, I'll admit. I was unaware you had such—friends. I can't kill her, of course—I need her. But you—"

If it was only me and my men, even Luciano's, that might have been the end of me. But Drakos' men have no loyalty towards me—no loyalty except to Drakos himself, and at that moment, he's on the other side of the door, bleeding through his fingers from a gunshot wound. Whether Enzo manages to shoot me or not before he drops, it doesn't matter to them—only that they do what they were told.

The gunfire goes off in a burst, tearing through Enzo in a series of holes that rip through fabric and flesh, spattering Rosalia with blood. She shrieks, lurching backward, and Enzo's finger spasms on the trigger, a bullet going wide and burying itself in the wood with a splinteringcracksix inches from her head. She shrieks again, jerking at the chain holding her to the bed in a panic, but I'm already moving towards her.

'Rosalia." I reach for her, pulling her into my arms. 'Rosalia, I'm here. You're safe. Rosalia—" I murmur her name over and over, stroking her hair as one of the other men starts to search Enzo's body, looking for a key.

The moment Rosalia's hand is freed, she throws her arms around me, clinging to me. 'Angelo—" she sobs my name, still shaking, and I pick her up off of the bed, cradling her against my chest as I carry her towards the door.

'We'll talk when we get back to the villa," I murmur. 'You're safe. That's all that matters."

She looks at me with wide, terrified blue eyes, her mouth opening to speak—and then she slumps in my arms in a faint.