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Of course it is, my mind whispers.You know what kind of world he inhabits.
I can’t seem to control my racing heart, and I take deep, gulping breaths, struggling to slow everything down and stop the fear coursing through my system. The breathing ploy doesn’t work.
I don’t know exactly what Rio has in store for me back in Boston, but I do know one thing. It will not be pleasant.
And quite possibly, it may prove deadly.
5
“We’re all captives of something, even things we don’t want to admit to.”
Raven Kennedy,Glint
Rio
I want to touch her.I want to shove aside this fucking laptop and drag her onto my lap. Remind her of what we had together. Before she ran. But that says more about me and my tenuous hold on control than it does about anything else, and lately, I feel I am hanging on to my power by my fingernails.
So, for now, I keep my hands on the keyboard and studiously ignore her while I pretend to study some reports sent through by my accounting team. Her scent fills the cabin of the limo, and I struggle not to be obvious when I inhale the citrus that permeates the air.
I missed her scent. I missedher.
My own wife running from me was one thing, but now I have her back, and she will not get away from me again.
Carlos Rossi and that mess with Anders is a whole other level of disaster.
Anders invaded my home. Killed my flesh and blood. Not on Rossi’s behalf, perhaps, but definitely not working on his own. He had someone pulling his strings, and it is time I found out who and paid that person a visit.
Revenge is not a dish best served cold. When family is involved, revenge is best served up so hot it burns everything that touches it.
Whoever sent Anders is gunning for my family. For my business. Forme.
Their message was loud and clear, and some are listening; wondering if I’ve lost my hold on Boston. I need to wrest back my control before an all-out war ensues.
Carlos Rossi disclosed some useful information about Anders, and that is the only reason he’s not dead. For now, I need him alive so he can continue to feed me the information I require to retain my position at the head of the family.
Rossi’s investigation discovered that Anders had switched allegiance to a new player in the field. No one has been able to ascertain who he is, where he came from, or where he is now, other than whispers of a first name. Anton. Or Antonio.
Danelli and my various teams are on the job, as is the private investigation firm I use from time to time. Nothing has come to light regarding anyone named Antonio or Anton, or various other derivatives of that name.
I flick a glance at Bianca, wondering if she knows anyone named Anton. I cannot believe she was anything other than a complete innocent when she was first brought to me. The background checks were too thorough to miss anything significant. As ludicrous as the idea is, though, I don’t completely dismiss it. Her betrayal may only have occurred after we were married, when the federal agents at the gala event put the idea of bringing me down into her head.
But trust was destroyed the day she ran. And I don’t know if she will ever earn it back.
Another email briefly takes my attention. There has been trouble at the wharf. Again. Third time in the past two months that one of our deliveries has been delayed in transit. My mouth tightens. The wharf is ours, key personnel bought and paid for longer than I can remember. Since my father’s time, in fact. There should be no trouble with any of our deliveries, even if the Feds have decided to step up and make trouble.
I flag the message to be dealt with as soon as I return to my office and have a chance to speak privately with Danelli. In the meantime, I tap out a response to my lawyer, Carnarvon, telling him to look into the financial side of things and ensure nothing has changed in that regard.
Since Bianca ran, it feels as if I have been fighting spot fires at every turn. Each issue has been small and swiftly dealt with, but it is only a matter of time before someone decides to take another shot at dethroning the Agosti-Carlotti power base.
My thoughts inevitably turn back to the mystery man behind the hit that killed my aunt. I must find him. The man—whoever he is—struck at the heart of my family and my home. That must not go unpunished. If I allow that, then I deserve to lose my position.
That is the thing Bianca likely does not understand. Her act of defiance against me had the potential to weaken our hold on this city. Her attempt at freedom, coming so soon after the hit on my family, has meant I must tighten my grip on the business.
Publicly, and powerfully.
If I do not, then we risk an all-out turf war.
And unfortunately for my dear wife, she is the one who is about to suffer the consequences.
