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“Yes, sir,” he says.
Next minute, Mack has the video casting on the huge screen on the wall in the living room. We stand shoulder to shoulder, watching Mia walk into my office.
God, I feel sick seeing her in there.
I cross my arms, then run a hand over my chin nervously.
She freezes, and while the video isn’t good enough quality to see, I imagine the blood draining from her face. Then she’s looking at the section where her family is displayed.
Her hand flies to her mouth.
I curse.
Then she runs out.
Mack pauses the video and turns to me. “How the hell did she get in?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. Then I work it out and curse again, sharing what I think happened. “She videoed me punching in the keys while pretending to be a sassy little bitch.”
Jesus, I’m impressed.
He smirks. “Sorry, but that’s quite badass.”
I afford myself a smile. “Yeah, it is.”
But now, everything has changed. She knows enough to hate me, to fuck up everything I’ve worked for my entire life, and to probably put a hit out on me by two mobs.
If she talks.
Mia’s smart, but I know she has feelings for me. Genuine feelings. I’ve been trying to fight hers and mine. Now I need to acknowledge them because it could be the one thing that saves my life.
I’ve got the best security team in the damn world, but if two of the most dangerous mafias want me dead, they’ll eventually succeed.
I have a backup plan. Of course, I do. You don’t fuck with the mafia without having one. But if I’m going to activate it, I need to make a call very soon.
It will mean leaving behind my entire life and business.
“What are we doing?” Mack asks.
He knows I’m contemplating Plan B and is thinking the same things I am, but I doubt he’s worried about how Mia is feeling. Despite the risk to my life, I hate she’s hurting right now.
She feels betrayed and confused.
I know that woman. She want answers and feels alone, feels like she can’t trust anyone.
Which is true.
She shouldn’t trust me.
But she can.
With her life. Not her family.
I walk to the floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooking Manhattan and go through several scenarios in my head. It’s likely she went to Sienna’s. She won’t go home. Not immediately.
“Ask George where Sienna lives,” I say to Mack. “Meet me downstairs.”
He nods as I go change. I quickly remove my suit and pull on a pair of blue Prada denim jeans and a black T-shirt. Then add a black leather jacket. It’s not cold, but if things turn ugly, I want some protection.
