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And this new contract only confirmed my theory. Whoever tried to kill me in Belgium had now gone to Ricci to finish the job. “Who hired Ricci?”
“We are working on finding out.”
“Zio Marco?” I said, knowing my father’s consigliere would be right there.
“Sì, Giulio?”
“Do you have a photo of Ricci you can send me? I want to know what he looks like.”
“Of course.”
“Giulio,” my father barked. “I do not want you trying to deal with Ricci on your own. You need to be here, at the castello. Where I can protect you. Get on the first flight—”
Was he not listening to me?
Lowering my phone, I disconnected. There. He could stew for a few days.
Five years ago, I never would’ve hung up on my father. But I was different.
Besides, I wasn’t his responsibility any longer. He should be focusing on his other children, his wife. His empire. He didn’t need to worry about me, a grown man.
I unlocked the door to the old building where I was renting a room. When I reached my apartment, I went in and shut the door, then engaged all four locks.
Pulling out my phone, I spent a few minutes searching the internet, but failed to uncover a photo of Ricci. Unsurprising. What good was an assassin everyone could recognize?
Marco still hadn’t texted the photo, so I began undressing. I was far more tired than I expected. My limbs were loose, the kind of peace only a great orgasm could provide. Today has been a good day. A million Euros and a fantastic blow job. What more did a man need?
I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance with the guy tonight from the club. I never hooked up with the same man twice, but I could almost make an exception for another one of those mind-numbing blow jobs.
My phone chimed with a text. Marco.
I opened the message—and all the air left my lungs in a rush.
Dropping onto my bed, I stared at the image. It was blurry and taken from an awkward angle, but there was no mistaking that face.
This . . . couldn’t be right. There had to be some mistake. My ears started ringing as I tried to make sense of it.
No, no, no. Cazzo madre di dio.
The man from the club? The one who had sucked my brains out through my dick?
It was Alessandro Ricci.
CHAPTER THREE
Alessio
Ten days later
Santorini, Greece
I slipped another slice of tomato in my mouth and walked along the rooftops. This was the part of the job I most liked, if I were being honest. Tracking my target allowed me to disappear, become a ghost. No one knew I was there until I was ready to let them know.
Like the night I let him see me in Málaga.
Giulio disappeared immediately after that blow job. I lost him for a little bit, but caught up with him again here in Greece five days ago.
I’d spent a lot of time researching Giulio Ravazzani since Málaga. After the car bomb in Belgium, he bounced around in the Scandinavian countries. I had to assume his Mediterranean looks made it impossible to blend in there, so he got smarter.
