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There was some weird dynamic going on in Fiona’s family. Her father was married to his job, and her mother was competing for her husband’s attention to the point of not caring or paying any attention to her daughter at all.
The fact that Fiona was living at home again, after having attended boarding school for all of her teenage years, was only because she could do whatever she wanted. Travel, party—nobody cared where she was or what she was doing.
Which made it that much harder on her. And that much lonelier.
I laid my hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Talking about it all helps, Fee.”
She nodded, tears gathered in her eyes. “I don’t think I can,” she whispered.
I brushed my hand over her cheek. “You will, and when the time comes, I’ll be here to listen.”
We fell into each other’s arms. Her whole body shook with sobs, so heart-wrenching I started to cry, as well.
We all had our own horrible experiences during our time in Italy.
And compared to whatever my sisters went through, I was probably the most fortunate one.
All because of Gabe, who caught me and held me, but showed me so much kindness, as well.
He was morally black, but that wasn’t all he was.
There had been a part of him, his heart, or soul, maybe, that had been kind and caring and loving.
That was the part of him I fell in love with.
I just hoped he could salvage that part despite the life he’d been born into.
The life he’d chosen.
A life of crime, death, and violence.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
We got in through the service entrance—which someone had left unlocked.
When I’d told Vincenzo to stay in the vehicle, he’d laughed in my face and gotten out before me.
Reckless and stubborn. But the way we worked together—like a well-oiled machine—made me glad to have him by my side.
We’d skipped the ground floor and made our way upstairs in the dark.
The home was a modern mansion—a lot of concrete, glass fronts, and not a squeaky board, step, or tile anywhere.
Four doors greeted us on the first floor. Vincenzo turned to the one on the far left first, but when we heard a snore, loud enough to scare a tiger, we immediately backtracked.
I didn’t peg Cara or Jemma as snorers, and I knew for a fact that Sophie didn’t snore.
Now only three doors were left. I hesitated, then took the first one. I immediately knew I’d hit the jackpot when Sophie’s faint scent hit my nose as soon as I opened the door. It was something so uniquely her that I would forever recognize it.
The blinds were open, and a slither of moonlight hit the floor right in front of her bed. I crossed the room, laser-focused on my target and only half-aware of Vincenzo coming in behind me and closing the door. But when I leaned over the bed, it was untouched.
What the hell?
Vincenzo came up beside me. “Empty,” he whispered.
I nodded.
“Is it her room?”
