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“Slow,” she whispers. “Right there. Look.”
At the very corner of the screen, Santo paces.
Santo.
On the footage, I go inside, but I look at the outside footage where Santo is. He strolls along the perimeter of the garden. Rosa signals to him from her seat. He waves at her, and…
I pause and rewind.
He waves at her and gives a signal. Rosa stands, gestures to Natalia, and leaves Natalia in the care of her nanny. She meets Santo in the garden.
“Why the hell is he talking to Rosa?”
Elise rolls her eyes. I choose to ignore it.
A second later, Rosa walks back to the dance floor, but she wrings her hands. She paces back and forth, and when staff brings flutes of champagne, she takes one and drinks it in two large gulps. She’s clearly agitated, but I can’t tell why.
I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe Rosa’s the one to call.”
“Yeah,” I mutter to myself.
Santo’s back from the garden. He glances at his watch and takes a call. He paces. Then he does something strange. I watch him walk to Natalia and crouch in front of her. He smiles, says something to her, then gives her a huge hug. I watch Orlando, Mario, and our guards head into the house where I know Anna Regazza’s inside having a fit.
A shadow passes the garden. Santo rises, straightens his shoulders, then takes a phone call. He looks over his shoulder, and I don’t miss the way his face contorts. Anger? Rage? He’s conflicted.
Quickly, I scroll to the footage of our driveaway. One of our own cars waits, idling. No one noticed since we were all at the wedding reception. Santo knocks on the driver’s window. The driver exits the car, heads back to the garage, and Santo takes his seat.
I pause and rewind the footage.
I’ve never seen the driver before in my life.
Motherfucker.
The first call I make is to Rosa. It goes straight to voicemail. I curse under my breath and call Romeo.
I tell him everything. “Rosa’s in town,” he says. “She didn’t take your call?”
“No. Where’s Natalia?”
“Natalia’s with her.”
I call her bodyguard, who answers on the first ring. “Yes, sir, Mr. Rossi?”
“I need to talk to Rosa.”
“She’s indisposed at the moment, can’t talk sir.”
“What the fuck is she doing that leaves her indisposed?”
“Uh… uh, I think she’s getting a Brazilian wax,” he says sheepishly.
I cringe. “Ah. Right.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I did not need to know that.
“You asked,” Elise mutters. I don’t reply.
I text Romeo to question Rosa, then look through everything else I have recorded. Our footage goes as far as Santo heading to the highway, likely to the airport.
“What do you have here in Tuscany, and why would he come here? How does Romeo know he’s here?”
“We have tracking software on our phones. It shows Santo leaving and then arriving here shortly after we do.”
She blows out an exasperated breath. “And where does it show him now?”
I frown. “At the airport. Since we got here.”
“So you think he disabled his phone or left it, yet he didn’t leave it in America?”
“Right. Doesn’t make sense that he’s still in the airport, does it?”
She shakes her head “Unless… well, unless he is still there.”
I look at her sharply. “Still at the airport?”
“Well, yes. People do business there all the time, don’t they? It’s the perfect meeting place for people to go incognito. Do whatever shady shit you’re doing, then hop on a plane and go anywhere in the damn world.”
“Let’s go.”
Our vineyard’s closer to the Florence Amerigo Vespucci Airport than our home, so it’s only a fifteen minute ride. Though there are two main airports that serve Tuscany, we always use the Florence airport because it accommodates our private flights more easily.
“I don’t know why he’d be at the airport. It’s all so convoluted.” I give her a sidelong glance. “He might’ve left his phone there. You don’t know anything about leaving things places so you can cause a diversion, now, do you?”
She doesn’t respond, only picks at the cuticles on her fingers with a haughty look.
We drive the entire way there in silence. The drive is beautiful, but I hardly pay attention to the rolling green hills, the sun above us, or the blooming spring flowers as far as the eye can see. I’m piecing things together.
Maybe he is still at the airport.
Why?
“Elise, call Rome again, please.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” she says in a voice so dripping with sarcasm I want to pull this car over and spank the sass right out of her. I won’t, though. I’ll give her this space.
Later, we’ll talk.
Later, we’ll make amends.
I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but we will.
I caught a glimpse of what life looked like with the woman that I love, and I want that life. I won’t let this happen. I won’t let anything drive a wedge between us.
