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I hadn’t wanted Emma to feel as if I were stalking her before. I still didn’t, but after getting that information, I couldn’t do anything other than try to throw every resource I could think of at trying to find her. I tried to track banking transactions, cards, hotel reservations—anything I could—but there was nothing. She could have gone to any state, and I had no way of narrowing it down. She’d switched to an all-cash existence, it seemed—not the hardest thing to accomplish, as a tattoo artist—and hadn’t opened a new bank account. She might have even switched to a pay-by-month phone, because I couldn’t find any record of an account with any cell phone company under Emma Garcia.
It was abundantly clear that she didn’t want to be found. And all of my siblings, even Aida, didn’t understand why I wouldn’t leave well enough alone.
“You should respect her wishes, if she wanted to disappear.” The four of us are in the mansion’s living room, an unusual sight on a Saturday night, but we have a charity gala to attend. The host—a woman involved with children interested in the arts in Los Angeles—asked specifically for all the Campano siblings to attend, especially Aida, who is an art history major. Aida speaks up as I’m wrestling with my tie in the mirror next to the fireplace, her arms crossed over her chest as she stands behind me. “If she wanted to be with you, she would be. You can’t make her.”
“That’s very different from what you had to say about it before.” I narrow my eyes at Aida in the mirror. “The last time we talked about this, you thought I should try to make it work.”
Aida rolls her eyes, shaking her mane of thick, auburn-brown hair around her shoulders. Paired with the emerald-green gown she’s wearing, she looks every bit the mafia princess that she is. “I said you should try to figure out how to make the relationship work, not stalk your ex after she broke up with you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that Emma is pregnant, and see if that changes her tune, but something in me resists. I don’t want to hear what Aida might have to say aboutthat.
“I’m going to go find Carmine.” Aida gives me one more glance as she sweeps out of the door. “Leave her alone, Dante.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this girl.” Lorenzo is sitting at the end of one of the sofas, sipping a glass of cognac. “She was just a tattoo artist. You’ve dated dozens of women. What’s so special about this one?”
I let out a sharp breath. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
“I think we do.” Lorenzo swirls his drink, his gaze piercing. “Something has you all worked up, and as your business partner as well as your brother, I think—”
“She’s pregnant.” I twist around, glaring at Lorenzo. “Happy? I want to find her because I have feelings for her, but also because she’s going to have my baby, and I want some voice in how that all goes. I want to make sure she realizes how involved I would like to be in that. I want her to understand the compromises I would make in order to find a way for this to work, because I don’t think she does. Our last conversation didn’t exactly go well.” I heave a deep sigh. “Is that enough?”
Lorenzo blinks slowly. “Dante—if she was pregnant before she left, then she ended it.”
I feel a sharp, cold sensation in my chest at that. “Why would you say that?”
Lorenzo snorts. “Please. If she skipped town, then she had an abortion beforehand—or planned to right after she got to her destination. That’s the only outcome that makes sense. You’re telling me that if she was going to keep the baby, that she wouldn’t be banging down your door about insurance and child support right now? Knowing how wealthy you are? If she left without telling you, then there’s no baby to tell you about any longer.”
I can hear in his voice how certain he is. Absolutely, completely certain. But I’m not. “You don’t know Emma,” I insist stubbornly. “She’s independent. She doesn’t like anyone doing for her what she feels she can do for herself. If she wanted to do this alone, then she wouldn’t ask me for help. I feel sure of that.”
Lorenzo shrugs. “You know her better than I do. But I can’t imagine any woman opting to raise a child alone, on her own dime, when she knows the father is immensely wealthy.”
“Emma would.” Just saying it aloud reinforces how sure I am that it’s the truth. “And I need to find her.”
“Aida might be right.” Lorenzo takes a sip of his cognac. “If she’s going to such lengths to hide from you, maybe it’s better if you let her be.”
“Is that what you would do?” I jerk my tie into place, turning to face him. “Just let the woman that you loved, a woman who was going to have your child, disappear without even a conversation about it?”
“I’ve made a point of not getting into that situation. So I can’t say.” Lorenzo takes the last swallow of his drink and stands up. “Let’s go find out if Aida has tracked Carmine down. We should be getting to the party.”
The event is held at a large art gallery downtown. The host greets us, pulling Aida aside to talk about the possibility of the university’s art department assisting in some way, and Lorenzo, Carmine, and I begin to make our way through the gallery. I snag a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, taking a sip as I glance over the artwork hanging on the walls. There will be a silent auction later, and I keep an eye out for anything that I might want to add to my penthouse. It’s something to occupy my mind with thatisn’tEmma—or the last party I went to like this, with her on my arm.
The memory of having her on the balcony, overlooking the cityscape of LA, sends a flare of heat through me that feels as if my blood is on fire.
I’ve neverachedfor anyone the way I do for Emma. No one has ever made me feel like this. It seems impossible that I lost her, when I only just discovered how this could feel.
“Dante.” Lorenzo’s voice cuts through my thoughts, a note of irritation clouding it. “Dante, I’ve tried to get your attention three times now. You need to keep your shit together.” His voice tightens, a harshness at the edges. “Our family counts on you. You can’t afford to be this distracted over a woman.”
She’s not just any woman. But a part of me knows that he’s right. The responsibilities of managing the Campano empire have largely landed on my shoulders, and I can’t lose sight of that. “Is there a reason you’re saying this now?”
“Altiere just walked through those doors, so yes.” Lorenzo turns, and I move with him, my own irritation rising at the idea of having to deal with Altiere. There’s no one I would rather speak to—or even be near—less right now.
And then I see who is on his arm, and my entire world grinds to a halt.
For a moment, I can’t believe it. I tell myself that the woman with the dark wavy hair, in a silver gown that clings to her like a second skin, is someone else. That I’m only seeing Emma because I want her here so badly.
But then I look again, and I know what I’m seeing is real.
Emmaishere.
