Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Got you.
Now I can use my connections to find him.
“Run the plates,” I order. “Find out everything you can, and let’s see if we can track the bastard.”
“No problem, Boss,” Dom answers.
I step away from the screens and pull my phone from my pocket, already dialing. Matteo picks up on the second ring.
“You find him?” my cousin asks, cutting right to the chase.
“I have a lead,” I say. “We have him on video leaving a nightclub. Clear image of the plate too.”
“Good work. Need help? I’m handling something for my pops now, but I can meet you at the warehouse tonight to go over a plan?”
“Nah, all good.”
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Cool. Thanks, man. Appreciate you taking point on this.”
“Of course. Talk later.”
I hang up and slide the phone back into my pocket before heading out of the security room and back upstairs.
I turn toward Victoria’s room without thinking. When I get there, her bedroom door is open, but the room is empty. I step inside and glance around. Her bed is neatly made, but other than that, there is no sign of her, or that she was ever there.
I stand in the middle of the room, jaw clenched. Where is she?
Unease settles in my gut.
Could she have left?
No.
There’s no way.
But . . .
Nope.
She’s got to be somewhere, and I’ll find her.
I turn on my heel and head back the way I came, down the stairs, and straight back into the security room.
“Dom.” At the sound of my voice, he turns his head and meets my stare.
“Yeah?”
“Pull interior and exterior feeds,” I order. “Last twenty minutes. I want eyes on Victoria.”
No questions asked. Dom reaches forward, and his fingers type furiously on the keyboard.
He checks every angle of the estate. Inside and out. There’s no way she could have escaped, but I just don’t like not knowing where she is.
Which is a huge problem in itself . . . but I can’t think about that now. The need to find her is stronger than my need to evaluate my obsession with my wife.
“There,” Dom says, freezing the video and pointing.
Victoria appears on the screen, moving through the hall.
Something is off about her.
She seems slower than usual. And one of her hands skims the wall. Almost like she’s bracing herself.
Then she turns left.
“The library.”
I’m already gone before Dom can say anything else, sprinting down the hall until I reach the library. The doors are open when I reach them. I step inside and see that she’s standing near the shelves, one hand braced against a ladder, the other holding a book she hasn’t opened.
She looks up when I enter but doesn’t speak. Something is off with her.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She turns fully, and my chest tightens.
Her skin is pale. Too pale. The sharpness I’m used to, the fire in her eyes, is dulled.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says. “I have a headache. Thought I’d grab a book before lying down.”
There’s no rude rebuttal. No sarcasm. And her tone . . .
I narrow my eyes.
“You hate reading when you’re tired,” I say, remembering her years ago saying that when she’s tired, her eyes hurt.
She huffs. “Congratulations. You know your wife.”
A little better. More like her normally hostile personality, but still, it’s weak.
I take a step toward her. “Are you okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes. It’s just a headache, Lorenzo.”
Just when I’m about to believe her, she shifts her weight and wobbles.
I grab her automatically, one arm wrapping around her waist to steady her.
She feels warm.
I lift my free hand and press my palm to her forehead.
“Shit. You’re burning up.”
She frowns, blinking at me. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I say flatly.
Before she can protest, I bend and scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other braced across her back. She gasps, startled.
“What are you doing?” she demands, voice sharper now, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“You’re sick.” I turn toward the door. “And you’re going to bed.”
“I can walk—”
“No.”
She glares up at me, stubborn even when she has a fever. “You don’t get to—”
“I absolutely do.” I carry her out of the library. “Because you’re about five seconds from passing out, and I’m not letting that happen.”
She exhales, head tipping briefly against my shoulder. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re sick.”
53
Victoria
I wake up choking on heat.
And not the warm and cozy kind of heat. This is different. I feel like I’m suffocating. Like there is a fire under my skin, yet it feels like my bones are brittle and made of ice. It makes no sense.
I try to pry my eyes open, but nothing happens at first. When I finally get them open, my lids hurt from the effort. Hell, my whole body does.
Now up, I take a moment to evaluate the situation, quickly realizing that my sheets are damp, and my hair is sticking to my neck.