Page 51 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

“I’ll meet you back out here in ten minutes. Got it?”

I nodded, ignoring the warnings in my head that he was right. We shouldn’t split up. I asked him to be here with me for a reason, but it’d take us twice as long to search for Krista.

“Ten minutes,” I agreed.

I turned away, checking in rooms and finding most of them preoccupied with others getting it on. Orgies awaited at every turn, and I began to give up hope.

When I opened the last door at the end of a hallway, I knew all hope was lost.

The only person in this room was Antonio. Standing near a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Fuck! Before I could back out he turned.

No guards had been stationed at his door. I’d been avoiding the rooms with protection posted outside them, so I counted on this one being either empty or hosting another fuckfest.

“Ah.”

He grinned, cocking his head to the side.

Now guards arrived. Perhaps they’d been following me through the house as I searched, only closing in after me once I reached this room.

“There you are,” he drawled, slurring those few words. That would be my ticket out of here. If he was drunk or high, he wouldn’t be as fast to literally capture me and hold me close.

“I’ve been missing you, bride.”

I held my breath and froze as he walked toward me.

Chapter 19

Luke

Two sober people combing this house for one unconscious woman would make our efforts go faster, further. But this seemed to be one of those times where efficiency didn’t equal security. One of us might locate Krista quicker, but wouldn’t that all be for nothing if one of those guards tried to get to Emma?

It seemed like a stupid contrast—running and hiding from one of those armed guards the day before at the resort but now freely traipsing around them here.

Come on. Where they fuck are you? I knew what Krista looked like, but I wasn’t finding her anywhere in any of the rooms on this first floor. I split my focus, too, keeping tabs on where Emma moved upstairs while I searched down here. The enormous great room was built not only with an open-floor concept in mind but also an open-ceiling one, too. The second floor hallway was contained behind a glass half-wall so all could look out that balcony and the mass of sweating, drunk people down below. More glass encased the house, providing walls that showed the dark sky over the beach. This place was a behemoth, designed with unlimited resources. I acknowledged that I didn’t belong here, walking among the rich and influential members, the denizens of the upper crust of society.

And it pushed me to want to leave now, as quickly as I could. I didn’t need anything else added to this sense of urgency. I was alert. My senses were heightened with a slowly burning flame of adrenaline.

So when a few men blocked me from striding down another hallway to look for Krista, I was already prepared, half primed to fight back if need be.

“I remember you,” one man said.

Shit. “Likewise.”

His upper lip curled. Disdain coated his face, leaving him with a fierce scowl.

“How’s that neck feeling?” I taunted, tipping my chin up in reference to how I’d pulled him off Emma by grabbing the back of his neck before throwing him into the wall. A fat white brace ringed his neck now, supporting his head.

“You fucking—”

He was pushed further back though. Someone taller, stronger, and calmer stepped forward to block this thug from spewing hatred at me. This man had that same sort of learned calm that I did. We got it through fighting.

“Orsen,” I said as a greeting. Coming face-to-face with that higher-up fighter was a surprise. Then again, they all seemed to be connected with Emma. “Or am I supposed to call you a devil?”

He smirked, losing his hold on his tough-guy persona for a second. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

I shrugged. “You didn’t.” And he wouldn’t. I wasn’t here to offer it up.