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Chapter One - Luca
There’s no shaking the sense of something monumental looming up in front of me as I step into Paul Giordano’s study. The sounds of laughter and music and conversation go quiet once the door is closed behind me. Not silent, not exactly, but what was once almost earsplitting becomes little more than a whisper.
Paul loosens his bow tie before standing and crossing the room. “Luca. What would you like to drink? None of that sugary champagne shit. I need something a little stronger.”
“I would love a Scotch,” I offer. It’s incredible, the difference in him. He’s gone from the gregarious, generous host to a very tired, troubled man. All it took was getting him alone.
Well, not truly alone. A guy I vaguely recognize stands behind Paul’s desk, his hands folded in front of him. Unlike the other Giordano guards, he’s not dressed formally, sticking to a black t-shirt and dark jeans, instead. “Beckett, was it?” I ask, crossing the room and extending a hand. “I think we’ve met a few times.”
“Yes, Mr. Bruno. It’s good to see you again.” He’s professional, I’ll give him that, settling for a firm handshake before resuming his posture. I appreciate that. No need to pretend we’re anything we aren’t.
“I asked Beckett here to join us,” Paul explains while pouring the drinks. “Of all my guys, he’s the one I trust most. And he’s best acquainted with my daughter after having spent the better part of the past year tracking her down.”
“Are you talking about Olivia?” I venture, my gaze darting back and forth between the two men. I don’t want to jump the gun and volunteer information I haven’t been asked for, but I don’t want to seem slow on the uptake, either.
“Indeed.” To his credit, Paul looks remorseful upon turning away from the cart and advancing toward me with one glass extended my way. Remorseful and wrung out. “I’ve done what I can to keep things quiet, but I knew if Olivia was absent this evening, questions would begin to arise.”
Our eyes meet, and he blinks first. “She’s been gone all this time. Since the day after…”
My heart catches in my throat, and not because of the girl. “The explosion.”
“I don’t mean to drag that up now,” he explains, his voice heavy with apology. “But yes. You know how she and your sweet sister were such good friends. I can only imagine she reacted out of shock and fear. I wanted her to stay close, but she did the exact opposite—as she’s done on her entire life,” he adds with no small amount of fatherly exasperation.
“Sera was like that, too,” I muse, torn between fondness and excruciating pain as I raise the glass to my lips. Maybe if I drank the whole bottle, I could obliterate her memory for just a little while. Not forever, never that, but long enough so the pain will stop. I haven’t had a break in over a year.
“You can imagine what I’ve been going through.” Paul nods his head in Beckett’s direction. “I assigned Beckett to track her down, and he did—more than once, in fact.”
“I don’t understand.” I look to Beckett, whose jaw tightens.
“She’s found me out twice now. I don’t know how. She has those Giordano instincts, I guess.” There’s something about the way he says it, though, that tells me he doesn’t feel exactly generous toward the girl. More like he wants to call her a spoiled brat but doesn’t dare do it in front of his boss.
“As it turns out, she’s only a few hours from here,” Paul explains. “The problem now is, do I leave her there where she’s mostly anonymous, or do I bring her home? It’s no secret Dante Bernardi is scheming as we speak.”
My pulse jumps despite my efforts to remain calm. “It’s no secret,” I agree.
“I’ve wrestled with this for days. Do I bring her home, keep her safe here? Or do I let her blend in with all the nobodies out there?” He waves a dismissive hand before taking a long drink.
“What is she doing now?” I look to Beckett, since he would know best.
“Waitressing at some hole-in-the-wall diner.” Again, it’s obvious how irritated Beckett is with her. I can’t imagine it’s a lot of fun, babysitting from afar.
Paul turns deep red verging on purple. “My daughter. A waitress had some filthy diner. She should be here, with her family, getting ready to settle down the way Talia is. Not running around some dingy little town, calling herself Olivia Jordan. As if my last name is something to be ashamed of.”
“I’m sure it’s for safety’s sake,” I offer. “What can I do to help?” After all, I’m sure that’s what we’re here for.
“If Bernardi gets word of her being found out there, it’s already too late. She’s as good as—” Paul cuts himself off at the last second, but we all know what he was about to say. As good as dead. “There might come a point when we need backup if only to throw Bernardi’s guys off the scent.”
“They won’t be expecting her to travel with anyone from your crew,” Beckett sums up.
“Only if shit starts going south,” Paul explains. “We might need to hand her over to another trusted person, and I can’t think of anyone I trust more than you. We have safe houses between here and where she is now. It could be a matter of handing her off there and bringing her the rest of the way.”
“You know I’ll do anything I can,” I assure him with a firm nod. “Any way I can help, you have it. For Sera, not to mention the alliance our families have always upheld.” Though I doubt it’s going to be easy no matter whether Bernardi is involved or not. My sister might’ve been headstrong, but Olivia? Dad used to call herPaul’s little hellcat. A beautiful girl, smart and savvy—and downright ferocious when she felt like it.
I don’t envy Beckett one bit.
“You’re a good man.” Paul claps me on the shoulder the way he’s been doing since I was a kid. “Your father would be proud of what you’ve managed to accomplish in the wake of tragedy. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Thank you.” My throat’s too tight to allow for much else.
