The shuttle arrives at the front of the resort hotel, so I put my phone away and gather my things. The hotel is a lot moreluxurious than I expected, but considering what I’m paying, I’d be upset if it was a dive. I follow the line of guests and when I step into the lobby, there’s a band playing island music with some grass-skirted dancers that the men in line seem to enjoy staring at. Much to the displeasure of a few girlfriends and wives.
After I make it to the front desk, I decline the offer for someone to take my bags and collect my keycard. I’m staying in a bungalow on the resort’s private beach. Another luxury I’m treating myself to. I’ll have dinner with Massimo, because I’m letting the island guide me, but I’ll be spending most of my time on the beach, catching up on a few books that have been sitting on my Kindle for far too long.
I leave the hotel and follow the signs toward the bungalows. The sights are impressive, but my mind wanders back to the attractive stranger from the boat. Massimo.
“Massimo, Massimo, Massimo…” I say, racking my brain. “Why do you look so familiar… Where would I—Oh, my god!”
Then it hits me like a lightning bolt. I know exactly why Massimo looks so familiar.
He’s on Sarah’s true crime wall.
HerMafiatrue crime wall.
CHAPTER 2
Massimo
I didn’t come to Isola Selvaggia to meet anyone.
Not now. Not after five years of feeling absolutely nothing. Why didn’t I mind my own business on the boat? She didn’t need to be rescued. Especially not by me. She would have dived off the boat and swam back to the mainland if she knew even a fraction of the man I am underneath this ink. How much blood is on my hands. She’d choose the sharks over dinner with me.
My finger traces the pale outline of my wedding band as my driver takes me through the gates of the Twelve Palms resort. This is the first time I’ve taken my wedding band off since my wife was murdered. I left it in the jewelry box beside the two I put on her finger. One on the day I asked her to be my bride. The other on the day we celebrated our love with family, friends, and those important enough to get an invitation to a Morandi wedding.
I wore my wedding band longer after she was killed than I did when she was alive. I promised her a lifetime and couldn’teven give her three years. Our life together was barely getting started when hers was stolen—when my heart was ripped out of my chest and replaced by something that beats with malice and poison.
I thought the worst was over.
But now it’s happening again. More pain. More heartbreak. Like there’s anything left to break. But this wound is different. When my wife was murdered, I loaded my gun and kept reloading until I extracted every ounce of revenge I could. The streets of Las Vegas turned crimson with their blood. My hands just got more stained.
“Want me to pull around back, Mr. Morandi?” my driver asks.
“Yes, thank you, Ronaldo,” I answer. “I’m already checked in.”
The car passes the shuttle and I catch a glimpse of Lea walking into the hotel. Such a gorgeous girl. Beautiful green eyes. Delicate, soft features. Curves that beg to be touched. Lips that should always have a fresh kiss lingering on them. She’s the kind of girl I would have chased to the ends of the earth before I fell in love.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter.
“Sorry, sir. What was that?” Ronaldo asks.
“Nothing,” I sigh.
I step out of the car without waiting for Ronaldo to open the door. He awkwardly shuffles to the back, opens the trunk, and reaches for my bags. I nudge him out of the way and grab them.
“I can carry those to your suite, Mr. Morandi,” he says, gesturing to my bags.
“I got it,” I assure him. “I’ll let you know if I need you again while I’m here.”
“No excursions planned, sir?” he questions.
I answer him with a shake of my head and start walking toward the back door of the hotel. Excursions? Like I’m here to see the fucking sights. I’ve got more important things on my mind than that. Things way more important than a gorgeous girl with green eyes and soft lips.
I make my way to the elevators and look around as I wait. Part of me hopes I’ll see Lea again. Another part hopes she’ll forget all about me and I’ll have dinner alone tonight. But I’m never truly alone. Too many ghosts haunt me for that. I’ve got poison in my heart and there’s no antidote. Too much malice that never seems to be silent.
“Forget all about me, Lea,” I sigh as I step onto the elevator and swipe my keycard so I can access the floor with the suites. “That way I can forget all about you.”
I lean my head against the wall of the elevator as it ascends. I’ve barely spoken to a woman since my wife was murdered. Never lingered long enough for conversation. Never let my mind wander, like it’s wandering right now. A cold bed honors the memory of what we shared, as brief as it was. But I guess everything is in disarray now. It’s hard to focus on anything.
That’s what happens when you find out your little brother put a price on your head.
