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Ipull Bridget into my arms, holding her hostage as I press a knife to her throat. “You fucking bitch! Who do you work for?” How fucking dumb does she have to be to set me up?
Bridget starts to sob. “I-I-I’m sorry,” she forces out through her tears. “They threatened my daughter. They said they had men outside her school who would hurt her if I didn’t do everything they said. I have no clue how they knew you were coming here, but they came to me!”
Another man comes out from behind the curtain, but Garrix shoots his shoulder to incapacitate him. French unarms him, using a couple of scarves from a display to tie his hands together and gag him. He quickly searches the rest of the store to see if we have any more company, but comes back empty handed.
“I’m sure we’ll get some answers from this one.” Garrix beams as he kicks the guy square in the nuts. “If not, we’ll have fun bonding as we cut off all twenty of his fingers and toes. If we run out, we can move on to other appendages.”
The more time I spend with Garrix, the further his mask slips. There’s something disturbing underneath his handsome face and charisma. I’m learning that the same darkness lies deep within me.
“Garrix, call Brighton Preparatory Academy and get a status on a child named Emile Ronson.” Bridget violently shakes in my hold, and I throw her onto the couch. She cowers, covering her head and curling into the fetal position.
I pry her arms away and fist her gorgeous, shiny hair into a ponytail, then cut it off and throw it on the ground in front of her. I see the little metal clips in the mess. I knew she had extensions.
She starts screaming as she clutches at her shorn head where her luscious waves used to sit. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to my father’s Consigliere and arrange a buy-out option for your store. You’ll take whatever deal he offers you. The day the money hits your account, you have three days to take your daughter and move. I want you out of my city.”
I take all the betrayal within me and crush it deep down into a box I’ll never open again.
“Maddie, you can’t be serious. New York is our home. Emile’s school is here,” she cries, her doe eyes red rimmed.
“I’m dead fucking serious. If you want to live, you’ll get the fuck out of here. I’ve been coming to this boutique since I was in high school. My family put you on the map and financed you when the bank wouldn’t do it because of your divorce. I donated to your daughter’s school charity every year and made sure Vettore Industries sponsored her softball team. You should have come to me for help, but you betrayed me. You’re lucky I’m letting you live.”
I take a bag and wait for Garrix and French to gather the rest of my things. After we pile everything in the car and take off, I address the elephant in the room.
“There’s a mole in Nuova Notte.”
“I thought the same thing.” Garrix runs his hand through his hair as his other hand holds the wheel. “Who knew we were coming here today?”
“The three of us, Max, Luca, and Papà. Franco and JC may have known, but I doubt it,” I think aloud. “If Luca knew, then his security team may have known.”
“Hmmm,” French muses. “Or, they have soldiers canvasing the whole neighborhood and saw us coming. I’d believe that quicker than I believe a Vettore backstabbed their own.”
Garrix laughs. “I think John Carlo would.”
“Really?” I ask. It hasn’t escaped my notice that my brother isn’t my number one fan. But does he hate me enough to put a hit on me? The whole thing sounded very Shakespearean, but I wouldn’t put anything past JC.
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of how he spoke to you. He’s on my suspect list until I can clear him,” he growls.
I text my Zio Tomasso to arrange his meeting with Bridget. Then I call Vinny to have him transport our hostage to a secure location so my brothers can take care of him. The mood is somber, and I spend the entirety of the drive trying to figure out who the mole would be if we had one. All three of us have a decent angle, which doesn’t make our job any easier.
By the time we arrive back at the house, my mind is shot. I spend thirty minutes alone in Garrix’s guest room, hanging clothes mindlessly instead of wracking my brain for answers that aren’t coming. A knock breaks me from my thoughts, and Garrix steps in, frowning at me.
“I asked Max and Whit to check the security feed around Van Auso for the day. They arrived at the shop an hour before we did.”
“So they had inside information. We need to figure out who the mole is, G.” I take a dress and gently hang it in the walk-in closet.
He follows me in and starts taking my things off the rack.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he maneuvers his way around me and out of the guest room.
“You’ll be sleeping in my room, so your clothes belong in my room.” He walks them down to the massive closet in his room and hangs them on the empty side.
This closet is twice the size of the other one, with built-in recessed shelving for shoes, purses, and jewelry. There’s a limited edition Versace purse on one of the shelves and a few dresses hanging toward the back. Who do they belong to? Is she an ex-girlfriend? A current one?
I realize I barely know Garrix. The background check my brother ran on him for me says he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s unentangled.
“I’m not putting my clothes in some other woman’s closet.” I huff, taking my clothes off the rack.
He blocks my way, putting his hand on the other side of the doorjamb so I can’t move past him.
