I slam my fists on my desk and realize that he is right. None of this is making sense at all. There are not many people who know about what Isabella likes. Her parents could care less about her and what she actually truly enjoys. But her words keep swimming in my head about how she feels as if she is being punished for not marrying Ian. I thought it was her being hard on herself, but I’m starting to wonder if it was not something her intuition was right about.
“He’s right, Enzo. Something feels off about all of this. After Costa barging into your house and bitching about not being able to use your docks after the wedding. The fake contract, then him running his mouth. It smells like a fucking rat to me.” Angelo says to me making me whip my head around to look at him. “Think about it.”
He’s right. Everything about that day seemed very off with Costa showing up months after marrying Isabella. He was so angry when he demanded to see me to see what the stance using my shipping docks. Then the way he cast his anger and hatred to his daughter was deeper rooted than I have heard or seen before. It clicks.
“Costa is a fucking dead man.” My voice booms off the walls.
“I already have our men looking for her from the coffee shop, staked out by Costa’s house.” Angelo says with a tense look on his face. It tells me all that I need to know that he is also concerned and that we do not have a long time to go on a wild fucking goose chase.
Costa has been working with Di Marco and never stopped.
I don’t even remember leaving the warehouse with Angelo. The whole ride to Costa’s house was a blur because all I could think about is my wife. Her beautiful smile she gives me every single morning when she wakes up. The way she loves to sit on the balcony to drink her coffee some mornings to look out over the property. The way she loves my family like her own. The way she mumbles my name in her sleep, and how she wraps herself around me in her sleep.
Angelo doesn’t even have the car come to a complete stop before I’m flying out of the passenger side door. I take two steps at a time up his front steps and his guards make a move to stop me. My hand reaches in my waist band, I click the safety off my Glock and aim it at their fucking heads. I watch as they stand down as there is a loud noise coming from their earpiece, which if I had to guess, is Costa.
I stomp down the hallway leading to his office that I remember from last time with my Glock still being held tightly in my hand. The door is open, and I step inside, my eyes narrow at him withmy nostrils flaring. The beast has been woken inside me and everyone in my path will feel my warth.
“Where is my wife?” I say through gritted teeth with my finger hovering over the trigger.
Costa stands up behind his desk, buttoning his jacket and waves off his second when I feel Angelo step beside me. “Ah, Enzo always the hot, short-tempered, murderous Don.”
It’s taking everything in me not to shoot in him in the head right now.
“I’ll ask one more time.” I take a deep breath to try to not kill him. “Where is my fucking wife?”
He rolls his damn eyes. “My fat, useless daughter should not be any concern. Wherever she may be is probably for the best. She has always been dead weight. I was surprised that you wanted to marry her since she is so large, unappealing, and no man wants to feel that while their fucking their wives.”
I lunge at him, my fingers wrapping around his neck. I squeeze tightly, turning my fingers white and his face turns red, gasping for air. Angelo has his second pinned down.
“As I mentioned before, if you ever speak like that about my wife again that I would kill you. And I plan on doing so.” I raise my other hand with my gun and press it to the side of his temple. “Where the fuck is my wife? I know you had something to do with it.”
His stubby fingers grab my arms, scratching and trying to fight me. His face starts to turn blue, but I watch as his eyes move over my shoulder. I peer over and see his son Joseph is standing in the middle of the door. Dressed in navy blue suit pants with a crisp white button oxford shirt. He is taller than his father and far more muscular than the rat in my hands. He looks like Costa but has Isabella’s soft and kind eyes.
Joseph reaches for the gun that I know is behind his waist. “Ah, not so fast, little Costa. I’m not in the forgiving mood today or well not until I have found your sister.”
He pauses. “What do you mean? You can’t find my sister?” he asks with a deep low tone.
“She’s missing. Daddy dearest here won’t share with the class where she is.” I turn to Costa and press the gun harder into his temple. My fingers release just enough for him to suck in some air. “I’ll ask one more time. Where is my wife?”
He coughs before he tries to spit in my face. I move my gun from the side of his head faster than he is and I hit him across the face. I release my grip and let him fall on the floor.
I keep my gun locked on him and turn my body to look at my wife’s older brother. “Your father is one of the dumbest humans I have met. He wanted to sell your sister, but I saved her through a marriage contract. I find it very odd that your father comes into my home demanding shit from me,” Costa moans on the floor, “and when I told him the truth about the contract. Then, a day or so later she is missing. Explain that to me.”
Joseph steps farther into the office and looks at his father on the floor. “You sick son of a bitch.” He crouches down to look at him and says, “All you care about is money. You have never cared about Isabella, me or Lucia. All we are to you is a fucking product that can be sold.” Joseph reaches out, to grab Costa’s hair to make him look at him. “You sold her to Ian with the hopes of making more money by selling women. The same thing that I told you was a bad idea and not what our family has built our legacy on. But all you saw was fucking dollar signs to make you richer.”
He moves to stand up, reaches for his gun, and points it at his father. I watch as the mask falls over his face with a mix of hurt and coldness toward his own father.
Costa wheezes. “Son, I’m doing what is best for this family as I’m the head of it. This is a business that will produce more money than we know what to do with. Business is business. No feelings.”
Joseph clicks the safety off. “There is a line to never cross, and you have done it. It’s time that you step down, old man. You are hurting and ruining what this family has built.”
“That’s where your wrong, son. You will never be the head of this family because your soft. This world you have to be ruthless. You have to be the richest. You have to rule with an iron fist for others to fear you.” He screams with hatred. “I would rather die than hand this business over to my weak, sad excuse of a son. All of my children are worthless, soul sucking, money hungry, ass––”
Costa doesn’t even finish his woe-is-me monologue as Joseph pulls on the trigger shooting his father is in the chest. Right in the heart. The blood pours out of his chest on to his shirt, and blood comes out of his mouth falling to the floor.
“I’m soft, huh?” Joseph grumbles.
Joseph turns to me. “As now the new Don of my family, let’s go find my sister.”
