Page 59 of Dario

Marcello didn’t offer any more, just waited. Fuck. It meant Marcello wasn’t going to give me anything until I spilled.

I leaned forward. “If you know where he is, we can do business. If not—” I shrugged.

But Marcello smiled. “Did you know my family owned a warehouse off North Georgia Avenue?”

I should as it was in my area, but I obviously didn’t. “Did Rocco?”

Marcello shook his head. “Look, I’m putting everything on the line here, but I’m out of options. That was a hit on me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” And I told him about Caterina and who I thought Alessandro was. Then I went all in and told him about Alessandro’s brother. I glanced at Gia and Lucio and knew I had their support, but at the end of the day, I didn’t need it. It was my decision.

“What’s the address of the warehouse?” Gia asked, and Marcello rattled it off.

It took Gia a moment. “I have Elisabetta’s car on three security cameras on route from there back home before you saw her this morning. And unless she was visiting someone else, who just so happens to have an adjoining warehouse…”

“It’s empty and under a shell corporation,” Marcello said. “But as you know, we don’t get rid of property.”

I stood, as did Marcello. “Then that’s likely to be where they have Alessandro, but we need confirmation of the brother’s whereabouts as well.”

“If Caterina was indeed my aunt,” he said, “then it would explain everything up to a point. But I think you’re missing something here.”

“What?”

“If Alessandro isn’t doing this willingly, then my uncle getting to him won’t make a difference. He wants an heir he can manipulate and control.”

“The brother,” I whispered. Of course.

“Which also means,” Marcello said. “That once my uncle has him, Alessandro is dead.”

Alessandro

Once I’d signed the papers, I half expected to see a gun to my head, but I was simply escorted back to my room. I couldn’t decide whether I’d gotten a new ally or thrown away my only hope of getting Tomasso out safely. Not that I had any choice.I looked up as the door to my little cell opened and one of the guards stepped in, holding a garment bag. I stared in surprise.

“Get dressed. You have a judge to convince, then you get to meet someone.” He didn’t wait for a reply. My heart thudded in my ears as loudly as the door slamming. It was going to happen. Was it, though? What stopped them from killing me once I’d spoken to the judge? Although, surely divorces—even no-fault ones—took time. Weren’t we supposed to be separated?

Not that I expected certain judges couldn’t be bought, and I supposed that was the case here. I dressed quickly. The suit was a little big, but it was clearly expensive, and I’d just finished slipping on some black shoes that I’d been given when the guard returned.

I took a step toward the door, and in a flash, he had me pressed against the wall with a gun to my temple. I wanted to suck in a breath but doubted I could get my lungs to work.

“This is just a reminder. You answer ‘yes sir, no sir.’ Refuse to give any details even if he presses. He held up a phone, and my eyes went immediately to a photo. It was Tomasso and tears were in his eyes. My heart ached. But I nodded, and the guard let me go.

I was blindfolded before I left my prison, and it wasn’t removed until I was marched into an office building. I could see right away I’d been brought in through some small exit, probably a back door, even an emergency one. Then we climbed some stairs and went through another door. The lawyer from before was standing there waiting, and he nodded to me. An older man hurried toward us and frowned at the three goons, then addressed the lawyer. “There’s been a slight change. Judge Carter was in a road traffic accident on his way here but we have managed to get another judge, as we know how urgent and distressing this is for your client.”

The lawyer stiffened and I could practically feel his anxiety from here. “If you’d like to follow me, Mr. Banetti and his lawyer have just arrived.”

What did that mean? My pulse picked up, and I moved on shaky legs. If this judge hadn’t been bought, it could mean I wouldn’t get my brother. The assistant showed us into an office, and my eyes fixed on Dario’s glittering obsidian ones. I wanted to drink him in one last time. Plead for understanding. Beg for forgiveness.

“Signor Banetti,” a familiar voice rang out, and my eyes turned to the desk.

It was Cecil Nolan. The judge that had married Dario and I barely a week ago.

This was going to go badly wrong.

28

Alessandro

It wasn’t hard to see how rattled my lawyer was with Nolan’s appearance. I just had no idea what that meant. If Tomasso weren’t in danger, I would be thrilled.