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Well, she’s not the only one. And that is a bigger problem than I’m willing to admit to myself.
“Dante?”
I blink back to reality. “I have no idea,” I shrug. “Maybe she went for a walk?”
Nico smirks. “Careful, brother.”
“Of?”
“Carmy and I aren’t the only sharks prowling around this gala looking for unattended women.”
Something hot and vicious flashes within me like oil splashed into a searing hot pan. But just then, Drazen joins our little circle.
My hackles raise at the dark look on his face when he turns to me.
“Where’s your wife?”
I sigh. “The three of you do realize that we’re at MOMA, complete with a mayoral security detail, and not Mogadishu after dark, yes? What the hell is the deal about Tempest not being glued to my goddamn side?—”
“Silvio Bonpensiero is here.”
Something cold and sharp drags up my spine. My face hardens as I turn to scan the crowd. I don’t see Tempest.
I don’t see Silvio, either.
AndI don’t like that one fucking bit.
“I’ll check the front,” Carmine growls, all the goofy playfulness of his earlier tone gone in an instant.
“I’ll take the upstairs galleries. I know a few of the guys on security tonight,” Nico adds, also now completely serious.
This is one of the reasons I love these two. They might act like absolute muppets at times. But when shit gets real, there’s no one else I’d rather have in my corner.
“I have two men here with me tonight,” Drazen mutters, pulling out his phone. “We’ll secure the main floor.”
I nod my thanks before I storm over to the bar and instantly catch the bartender’s attention. I flash him a picture of Tempest on my phone and ask if he saw her, and he nods.
“Yes, sir. She and another dark-haired girl were talking. They, uh…” He coughs delicately. “I think they may have gone to smoke a joint together.” He nods toward the back of the gala.
Goddammit, Tempest.
At the far end of the main function room, I glance down a hallway and spot a guard standing at the end. The fact that he yanks out a cellphone and starts texting someone madly the second he sees me tips me off. The nervous look in his eyes as I storm toward him pushes me over the edge.
“Sir,” he begins. “This area is off?—”
“You know who the fuck I’m looking for,” I snarl, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him to the wall. “And I have a feeling you knowwhoI am, too.”
He swallows. “Mr. Sartorre?—”
“You have two seconds to tell me where the fuck my wife is.”
He pales and jams a finger behind him. “Courtyard!”
I leave him shaking as I stalk around the corner and down one dark hallway, then another. It’s when I round the last corner that I freeze.
The first thing I see is a girl standing inside the hallway, snickering to herself as she puffs on a joint, her face pressed to the glass door. But it’s what I see on the other side of the door that has me charging like a predator.
The girl shrieks and drops the joint as I wrestle her to the side and yank the door open. I barrel out into the chilly courtyard to where Silvio Bonpensiero is snarling down at Tempest on her knees, one hand holding a fistful of her hair and the other one raised as if to strike her again.
