ROM
The capos were packed into Cosimo’s living room, waiting for him to issue orders. Everyone was itching for a fight, but we weren’t going out to hunt the people who did this tonight. We weren’t ready for that. Not yet.
The bomb fragments told a story. This was a sophisticated device—well beyond what our aunt or uncle could’ve cobbled together, let alone acquired. Whoever built it knew exactly what they were doing.
The current theory? Someone handed Aunt Lisa the bonsai to deliver, but she had to know it was a bomb, otherwise she wouldn’t have fled.
We suspected it was the Santoros—who else?—but we were still looking for proof, and more importantly, information on the family.
They were ghosts. No one had heard from them in decades.
Messero was helping. He’d called earlier to give his condolences and reaffirm his commitment to the joining of our families. That was a good thing. After a hit like this, we were vulnerable.
I was doing what I could on my end—calling contacts and chasing down leads—but my head wasn’t fully in it. I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on with Mia.
It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the explosion, and still nothing from her.
I stepped out onto Cos’s back patio and crossed the lawn to the picnic table beneath the old oak tree. The air was still, but the quiet didn’t soothe me.
I took out my phone and dialed Mia again.
No answer.
Fuck. There was no way she would’ve let her phone die and stay off for an entire day.
Something had happened. I could feel it.
And I was done waiting around.
I pulled up Nina’s number and hit dial.
She answered right away. “Rom? Your mom’s still here.”
“I’m not calling about her.” That was another problem I wasn’t going to deal with right now.
After leaving the precinct late last night, our mother had gone straight to her sister’s place—Nina’s mom’s house. Cos called her to get information about the Santoros, taking it for granted that she’d tell us everything she knew.
It was always dangerous to take anything for granted as far as Mother was concerned.
She wouldn’t say a fucking word.
Claimed she was grieving and would talk when she was ready.
We were all grieving. But we still had shit to do. In our world, grief was a constant—you learned to function with it humming in the background. She knew that better than anyone.
Keeping secrets now, after Dad had just died? Fucking absurd.
We were giving her twenty-four hours to pull herself together. After that, she’d have no choice but to tell us what she knew.
I scratched my thumb over the scruff on my jaw. It was getting long. “Have you heard from Mia?”
There was a pause. Then a suspicious, “Why?”
She didn’t know about me and Mia. And maybe Mia would be pissed I outed us, but her safety was my priority. And really, I was done hiding how I felt about her. All the fears that had felt so heavy back in that hotel room now seemed irrelevant.
I needed her safe. I needed her with me.
And if I had to beg her to forgive me for the stupid shit I’d said, I’d get on my fucking knees and beg.
“Mia and I have been seeing each other. We had a fight two days ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. I’m getting worried.”
Nina groaned. “Of course you decide to tell me this today, when I’d be an asshole if I jumped down your throat. Look, if you had a fight, she probably just doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Our fight wouldn’t make her keep her phone off for an entire day. Including the burner I gave her. Has she called you?”
“No.” A hint of concern slipped into Nina’s tone. “That’s weird. She never goes dark like that.”
“I’m going to look for her. Any chance she’s somewhere besides her apartment or the studio?”
“It’s Saturday,” Nina said, thinking. “She usually visits her dad and stepmom in the morning. Maybe she’s still there? I can send you the address.”
“I have it.”
“Rom, wait—if she didn’t tell us about you, she definitely didn’t tell her family. You can’t just show up there.”
“I don’t care. I need to know she’s okay.”
She let out a surprised breath. “You actually sound worried.”
“I am worried.” I clenched my fist. “She means a lot to me.”
A pause. “Excuse me?”
“I’m losing my goddamn mind over here, Nina. I’m not messing around. If you know where she is, you need to tell me.”
“Jesus. Okay. I mean, I don’t understand any of this, because why the hell did Mia not say anything to us, but I can hear that you’re serious. I swear I haven’t heard from her. I’ll call Fabi and Zo and check if they have.”
“Keep me posted,” I said and hung up.
The concierge at Mia’s building wasn’t cooperative—until I stepped around the desk and pressed a gun to his throat.
That changed his mind.
According to him, she hadn’t come home last night.
Back on the road, I strangled the steering wheel as I sped toward her studio.
It was past eight p.m., and most of the shops in SoHo were closed. I turned onto Broderick Lane.
The blinds were pulled shut over the windows, but the light in her studio was on.
I didn’t bother looking for parking. I just drove onto the curb, left the car running, and jumped out. She didn’t have employees or anyone else who used that space. It had to be her.
Had she decided to drown herself in her work to get our last meeting off her mind?
I hoped that was all this was, even as guilt stabbed through me. I had a lot to apologize for.
But when I tugged the door open, Mia wasn’t there.
Instead, a woman in a yellow blazer with curly hair and a pen lodged behind her ear worked on a laptop at Mia’s desk.
A memory stirred. I’d seen her before. She’d been at that lunch with Morales when my family walked in on their group.
Our eyes connected. Her face blanched.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled.
Her chair screeched as she pushed back, eyes wide. “Don’t come any closer.”
That voice. It was the same voice I’d overheard at Mia’s place when one of her father’s staffers showed up to drop off documents.
I smiled at her coldly. “Jenny.”
Her eyes were the size of saucers.
Scared?
Good.
She’d tell me everything I needed to know.
“Where is she?” I growled.
Her throat bobbed. “I don’t know.”
I stalked toward her and fisted both hands in the lapels of her blazer, yanking her hard against the wall. “Start fucking talking. Why are you here?”
She clawed at my arms. “Just to answer some emails!”
I glanced over my shoulder at the laptop. I recognized the background. It was Mia’s. “Why are you answering her emails?”
“I can’t tell you. He’ll fire me.”
“What do you care about more? Your job or your life?”
Her lips trembled.
My fists tightened, bunching the fabric. “I don’t like hurting women, Jenny. But if you don’t tell me where Mia is, I will throw you through that fucking window and run you over with my car. It’s a shitty way to go. Don’t fucking tempt me.” I jerked my head at the laptop. “What are you writing in those emails?”
“That Mia will be out of office until after the election,” she choked out.
“And why would that be?”
When her eyes flickered with hesitation, I lifted her several inches off the floor. Her shoes scraped against the wall. “Talk. Now.”
“Please put me down!” she wailed, her nails dragging across my hands.
“Answer me,” I roared. “Where is she?”
“She’s at home with her parents!”
“Why is her phone turned off?”
“They took it from her. She’s not allowed to leave until after the election. Please, I can’t breathe!”
I dropped her. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
“Why the fuck would Morales do that?”
“Be-because he knows about you and her. He doesn’t want her to see you again.”
Rage pulsed through me. Every fucking gut feeling I had about Morales was confirmed. He didn’t give a fuck about his daughter. The only thing he cared about was himself.
I had to get Mia away from him.
He was keeping her locked up like a prisoner, but not for long.
Because I was getting her out.
