The restaurant is an upscale Italian joint perched on a quiet street in Midtown.
Dim lights, obedient waiters, scrumptious smells, and a soft piano melody filling the room, courtesy of the pianist sitting at the grand piano near the back. A nice, cozy spot for two lovers to wine and dine. Luca’s go-to place when he wants to impress someone.
Or hide in plain sight.
The staff knows him by name. They know he’s a Bellacino, and they give him privacy—probably thinking it’ll keep them out of trouble.
Tonight, they’re dead wrong.
The maître d’ tries to block my path the second I stride in, a prim little man in a vest and tie. “Sir, do you have a reserva—”
I brush him aside, being less than gentle about it, eyes locked on the doors leading to the private dining room. A small part of me hopes Luca’s not stupid enough to be here, but I also know my son’s patterns. He’s cocky, thinking he’s always two steps ahead.
He has no idea.
A pair of waiters move to intercept me, concern creasing their brows. “Sir? Is there a problem?”
“There will be if you don’t get the fuck out of my way,” I growl.
They recognize me in an instant and step aside. I march toward the double doors where the word “Private” is scripted in gold letters. The hostess doesn’t dare meet my gaze as I push them open.
Inside, I find Luca at a table set for two, fine silverware glinting, a bottle of red wine at his elbow. He’s leaning back with casual arrogance, swirling his glass of Barolo, a smug grin on his face. Next to him is Sarah, her blonde hair pinned up, a chic designer dress showing off her tiny figure. The perfect little society wife—or so it would seem.
They’re laughing when I enter, but when their heads snap around, the blood drains from Sarah’s face. Luca’s eyes widen, but he stays calm, setting his wine glass down with a slow, deliberate motion. I close the doors behind me, the click reverberating in the hush.
Crushing silence.
Sarah’s the first to speak, her voice trembling. “Mr. Bellacino? I–I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”
Luca doesn’t say a word, his lips pressed tightly together. He knows I’m not here to make polite conversation. He’s seen this look on me before, years ago, when I put a bullet through a traitor’s kneecap right in front of him. He was only fifteen then. Maybe I was too harsh, but I’d hoped it was a lesson. A man learns from consequences, or he should.
“Sarah.” I acknowledge her with a curt nod, then focus my attention on Luca, letting him feel the full weight of my stare. “You and I have business.”
He leans back, flicking a glance at his wife. “I’m kind of in the middle of dinner, Dad,” he replies, attempting a casual tone, but I can see the fear in his eyes. “Can this wait?”
“No.” My voice is cold and final. “Get up.”
He doesn’t move. Sarah shrinks in her chair, her eyes darting between the two of us. My pulse is a pounding roar in my ears.
Luca glares at me. “You’re making a scene.”
I step forward, my teeth baring in a silent snarl. “You think I give a damn about a scene? After what you’ve done? After what you’ve cost me?”
He straightens, a flash of bravado sparking in his eyes. “Cost you? You have no idea what I had to do to keep my place in this family. You’ve shoved me aside my entire life. You never wanted me.”
“That’s just a small portion of the poison your mother fed you, but did you really think funneling money to Lombardi would earn my affection?” I approach and slam my palm on the table, the glasses and silverware rattling. Sarah gasps, jumping at the gesture. “You had the nerve to dip into Bellacino accounts—my accounts—and pay off the man who tried to gun down your wedding, attended by our guests. Do you realize the position you’ve put me in?”
Sarah looks at him. “Luca, what is he talking about?”
Sweat is starting to bead at his temples as he grips the table. “Sarah, don’t—”
I point at her. “Yes, Sarah, go ahead, ask him. Ask your beloved husband how he’s been laundering money behind my back. How he’s been dancing to Linda’s tune like a marionette while playing footsie with Gianni Lombardi.”
She pales, her head whipping to Luca in horror. “You didn’t! Our own wedding?”
“Sarah, shut up,” Luca snaps, the first fracture in his composure.
I narrow my eyes. “I want answers and I want them now.”
He stands abruptly, knocking his chair back. For a moment, I see a glimpse of the child who used to cower behind Linda’s skirts when I walked into a room, thanks to her coddling and spewed nonsense. Now, as a grown man, he carries the same arrogance that destroyed Linda, fueled by a sense of entitlement.
“Why should I answer to you? You’ve never been a father to me—just a checkbook.”
Sarah stands, looking ready to bolt, but my gaze pins her in place. “Sit.”
She sinks into her seat, trembling. “Luca told me everything was for us, for the family. That his mother had a plan.”
I arch a brow, turning back to Luca. “Ah, Linda’s plan. Right. Because it’s worked out so well so far—kidnapping, hostages, scumbag alliances, and only God knows what else.” I give him a deadly glare. “I’m only going to ask you this once. Where. Is. Eva?”
His face twists with defiance. “What do you care? She’s not even a Bellacino. She’s just some random sl—”
I grab him by the collar before he can finish the word. He chokes, eyes wide with fear. My fury surges, blood pounding in my head. “Go ahead. Finish that sentence,” I dare him.
His lips quiver but no words form. Sarah gasps in terror, pressing a hand to her mouth. Luca’s eyes dart around, searching for an escape, but my grip is ironclad. I let him breathe just enough to speak.
“Dad… let go,” he says, his voice raspy.
“Answer me.” I loosen my grip an inch. “Where is she?”
“I–I don’t know,” he manages. “Mom won’t tell me. She just said—”
Sarah breaks in, her voice quivering, “She said the payments were for the Lombardis, that they’d handle the Petrov girl.”
Luca snaps, “Sarah, shut up!”
She flinches. “No, I won’t! Dante, I’m so sorry. I had no idea Linda was using us like that. I only just found out she was the one who requested every payment, not Luca. She pushed him into it. She told him it was for securing his place in the family. I swear, I only found out after the money was gone.”
My eyes narrow as the truth hits me like a lightning bolt. Linda used Luca as a tool, and Sarah’s now realizing how deep they’ve sunk. “So you’re not the grand conspirator after all, Luca. Just a pawn in Mommy’s game. Jesus Christ, you’re pathetic.” I release him, giving him a slight push.
He stumbles back. “You never gave me a chance. Mom was the only one who supported me. She said we’d prove to you that I was worthy enough to take over, that you’d see it eventually.” Bitterness saturates his tone. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re too late, anyway.”
“Too late for what?” I hiss.
He smirks, though there’s a spark of concern in his eyes. “Eva. The baby. Mom’s getting rid of them tonight. Whether you like it or not, I’m still the only family you have.”
Time stops as the words ring in my ears like gunshots. Getting rid of them tonight. A wave of pure panic mixed with fury slams through me, cold and absolute. My teeth clench, my fists tighten. Sarah, pale as a ghost, claps a hand over her mouth, horrified.
“You worthless little bastard,” I breathe, feeling darkness coiling in my chest. “You let your own mother plan the murder of my unborn child, your sibling, for what? Your legacy? Is that what you really want?”
He tries to muster defiance, but I can see the fear beneath his bravado. “It’s done, Dad. She’s probably sealed Eva’s fate by now. Did you really think you could stroll in here and fix everything?”
I inhale deeply, letting the breath slowly leave my body. My next words are ice-cold and lethal. “Actually, I have another idea.” I yank my phone from my pocket, dialing a number I haven’t used in years. Alex Abramovic answers on the fourth ring.
“Yeah?” Alex’s accent is thick, voice husky.
“It’s Dante Bellacino,” I say, still glaring at Luca. “We need to meet. Tonight. I need men. I’m calling in a favor.”
There’s a brief pause, then, “You’ll hear back from me soon.”
As the line goes dead, Luca’s face goes white. “You have connections with the Abramovics? You can’t be serious. They’re insane.”
My only priority is getting Eva back.
“You’re right, Luca. The Abramovics are insane. But so am I.” I pocket my phone. “Now, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Linda’s plan and where Lombardi’s men have taken Eva. Otherwise, I’ll let the Russians do whatever they want with you.”
Sarah looks panic-stricken, her eyes flicking between us. “Dante, no. You wouldn’t. He’s your son.”
My eyes are locked on Luca. “He ceased being my son the moment he allowed his mother to plan the murder of his unborn and helpless sibling.”
Luca cracks. His mouth falls open in fear and disbelief. He knows Alex Abramovic’s reputation—methodical, cruel, and uninterested in petty alliances. If I give Luca to him as leverage, there’s no telling what horrifying type of interrogation he’d endure.
“You wouldn’t,” Luca echoes his wife’s words, trembling.
“I would,” I say simply. “Tell me where she is. Now.”
He shakes his head, trying to gather himself, but the brave mask has slipped. Fear is etched into every line of his face. “I don’t know. Mom didn’t tell me the exact location. She said she’d text me once it’s done. She’s with Gianni Lombardi and—”
I grab him by the collar again. “I know you’re lying, you fucking coward.”
He looks like he might cry, eyes darting to Sarah for help. She shrinks back, clearly done defending him. Finally, he whispers, “Gianni has a property in the Bronx.”
“Address. Now.”
Sarah tries to stand, but her knees buckle, and she falls back into her chair. “Luca, how could you this?”
Luca doesn’t respond, fixated on the dark rage in my eyes. “Dad, please, just calm down.”
“Calm down? You’ve aided your mother in kidnapping the woman carrying my child, well aware she is planning on murdering her tonight. And you come here to sip wine with Sarah like it’s no big deal?”
He stammers, “I didn’t know how to stop her. I tried—’
“Enough.” I slam the table again, making Sarah flinch. “You’ve been a spineless fool your entire life. Did you think being involved in the murder of Eva and our child would help you earn your stripes?”
Tears pool in Luca’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He mutters the address, then shrinks like a child, but it’s far too late for apologies.
I step back and take a deep breath, forcing down my rage into something functional. “I’m going to the Bronx. If Eva’s been harmed—or worse—I’ll hand you over to Abramovic myself. Understand?”
Luca just stands there, stunned. Sarah, tears streaking her cheeks, looks at me with a mixture of horror and pity. “Mr. Bellacino, please. Don’t do anything rash.”
I shoot her a glare. “Rash? This is me being restrained.” I turn to him. “If you have any scrap of loyalty to this family, any spark of humanity left, you’ll pray I find Eva in one piece.”
Before either can respond, I pivot on my heel and push my way through the double doors. As I leave, I can hear Sarah sobbing and Luca sputtering, patrons and staff gawking from every corner.
None of it matters.
The clock is ticking away, and so is Eva’s life—and my baby’s.
