Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
As if to punctuate her objection, she steps inside the room and slams the door. I hear the lock engage, which is another insult added to injury. I have a master key, so there’s really no use trying to keep me out. But I’m not going to push my luck. If she wants privacy, I’ll give her privacy. I judge accurately that patience is my greatest weapon. She just needs some time to cool off, and then we can have a rational discussion about what Giovanni is doing to locate her brother.
I turn around, signaling to my man to drop my luggage in one of the guest rooms. I suppose this is where I’m sleeping for the night. Even though I’ve been up for more than a day, I’m not ready to call it an evening. There’s still so much to do, and I want to hit the ground running.
I call Giovanni, and he fills me in on what little he has surmised.
“We spoke with campus police, and they’ve got nothing to share other than that some students saw him being pursued by two men,” Giovanni says. “The cops are out there looking for him too, and I just narrowly escaped having to give a statement.”
“Good,” I say with relief. “Don’t.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Giovanni says with a little humor.
Looking for Brandon at the same time the police are looking for Brandon makes things tougher. I would prefer to handle the whole thing confidentially, but who knows. Maybe the police will actually find him and bring him in so Marlena can stop fretting. Both she and her brother are at the fringes of my organization, and I don’t think that they know anything about my activities. Having Brandon in police custody wouldn’t be that bad, but it still doesn’t let me off the hook. I need to do everything I can to locate him, which means keeping the pressure on Giovanni.
“Keep looking,” I say.
“Of course,” he replies.
“Would you bring me home some sauce?” he asks. “The kind that Mama used to make.”
“I’ll find some,” I promise. Of course, our own mother isn’t around to make the good stuff anymore, but I’m sure I can buy a few bottles of homemade tomato sauce before we head back to the States.
My next call goes out to Carmine Rocca, Marlena’s distant cousin and the head of the Rocca crime family in Italy. He and I go way back. I was born in the United States, but I’ve traveled back and forth my whole life. Carmine is a decent guy. A little harsh sometimes, but overall, a genuine character.
“Hey, Carmine,” I begin.
“Who is this?” he demands.
“Francisco,” I reply. Neither of us hang on to the same phone number for very long, so it can be surprising when we finally reconnect. I got his number this time around from my driver. He keeps me up to speed on what I need to know each time I arrive on Italian soil.
“Frankie!” Carmine yells happily.
“Frankie’s my son,” I remind him. “It’s Francisco.”
“Ah yeah, big man,” Carmine teases. “Francisco, it is. How’s life? How’s little Frankie?”
“Little Frankie’s all grown up,” I say. But he knows that. This is all just polite chit-chat before we get down to business. “Listen, can we meet?”
“Of course,” he exclaims. “My door is always open, you know that.”
“I’m starved,” I complain.
“Come down to Bella’s,” Carmine says. “I’ll feed you, and then we can talk.”
My mouth salivates thinking about real Italian cuisine. The stuff I can get across the pond isn’t even close. I leave four of my men with strict instructions not to let Marlena leave the villa. I’m sure she’s asleep by now, but I just want to make sure. Her threat about going to the American embassy seems far-fetched, but I won’t put it past her to try something dramatic.
“Just call me if she gives you any trouble.”
“You got it,” Marlena’s personal bodyguard replies easily.
I give his hand a good shake. I feel like I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I approve of this man. I know he’ll treat Marlena with respect while making sure she’s safe. With that sorted out, I climb into the back of the limo and tell the driver to take me to Bella’s.
This restaurant is Carmine’s home away from home. His sister-in-law is the head chef, and she’s amazing. By the time I’m shown to a booth and handed a menu, my stomach is grumbling. Carmine finds me there a moment later and pulls the menu from my hand.
“Bring him the carbonara with pork,” Carmine says. “Emilia just added it to the menu last month, and it’s amazing.”
I nod, willing to give up control over my meal in exchange for the inside scoop. Honestly, I don’t care what I eat, as long as it is cooked with love.