Chapter 7

7

Massimo

I come awake with a start, and even before I open my eyes, I know she's gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how could I have not woken up when she left? I'm used to sleeping with my awareness at the forefront of my consciousness, ready to awaken at the slightest noise.

Clearly, the sex last night went to my head. Maybe it's good she's not here. This way, I don't have the ability to find out more about her. I glance around and notice something glimmering on her pillow. I walk over and pick it up. It's the chain she was wearing yesterday. The locket is in the shape of a horseshoe, and seems aged with time. An antique of some kind, maybe? I get dressed, slide the chain and locket into the pocket of my jeans, then walk out.

Downstairs, the bar is silent as I walk past it and out the side entrance. I walk over to my Harley and fire it up, then glance around the parking lot. There were too many cars there when I arrived last night. Any one of them could have been hers. Sourcing security tapes from the bar is out of the question, since I made a deal with the owner to turn off the security system when I'm there. It's a precaution I took to ensure no one could track down my whereabouts.

I should let her go, keep our association to the night we shared, but as I drive out, I already know that's not going to happen. The sex was incredible, but more than that, there was something about Via, the way she laughed, how she tried to take the lead over and over again—good luck with that, it's not something I'll ever allow a woman to do—and yet, she managed to surprise me. When she walked out of the bathroom in only her panties and that corset, which nipped her waist in and pushed up her gorgeous breasts, and turned her already generous hips into porn star proportions—I almost came in my pants.

It took everything in me to hold back as she walked over to stand in front of me, as if asking me to undress her. The gall of the woman, she managed to get me to toe the line, and fuck, if that wasn't the sexiest thing ever. She held her own against me every step of the way, responded to my every ministration, opened her heart to me when we made love—when we fucked, I mean. Oh... That gorgeous hair of hers that seemed to have a life of its own; there was so much of it. It brushed my chest and goosebumps erupted on my skin. The taste of her lips, the heat of her pussy, the tightness of her ass—I have no doubt I'm the first to take her there. Fuck. I drag my fingers through my hair, and realize I've been staring at my bike for a while now. Fuck, I needed to get out of here. Maybe the drive home will clear my head.

The drive home did not clear my head. In fact, as the days progress, things are getting worse. I can't eat, can't sleep. Can't do anything but redouble my efforts to find Via. Why didn't I ask for her full name? Why didn't I try to find out where she lives? She's from somewhere nearby. Or not. She could have been passing through, but I doubt it. No, she must be from somewhere nearby.

Of course, she could have given me the wrong name, but I doubt that. She was thinking on her feet and probably chose a name similar to her real name. Not that it increases the odds of finding her—I don't know her surname. The fact that her profession is somehow related to being physically active is a clue, but again, it doesn't narrow down the odds of finding her. At least, that's what the private investigator I put on the case told me. Without a picture of some kind to go on, tracking her down is going to be nearly impossible, he said.

I threw more money at the PI and ordered him to do his best. He's someone I trust, and I've used him in the past, so I have no doubt he will. Also, if he doesn't try hard enough, I'll put a bullet through his head. He knows that, too. You don't deal with the Mafia without realizing it's a high-risk, high-return gamble. Like the one I took when I pursued my interest in her and propositioned her to sleep with me.

Just looking at her, seeing something ethereal shining through her eyes, I was caught. There was a light in her I've never noticed in anyone else. A vivacity, a greed for life that came through. There's something undefinable about her, what the French call je ne sais quoi, something that made me want to look at her again and again. And then I slept with her, and I knew I didn't want to let go of her. It's why I've spent the last week trying to find her, with no success.

And that's in addition to helping my brother Luca track down the man responsible for attempting to kill my half-brother Seb and his wife Elsa.

In the process, Luca got himself kidnapped. He escaped, along with his fellow prisoner, a woman called Jeanne. Unbelievably, he ended up proposing to Jeanne.

In a last-minute decision, he took one of our private planes to Malta, where they could get married without the need for paperwork, or any of those practical matters that could have delayed it.

And then he roped me in to getting Jeanne's best friends to the airport and on another of our planes so they could join their friend as bridesmaids. But first, I need to take them to the boutique so they can choose their dresses.

Which is why I'm standing next to my car outside Jeanne's friends' apartment building, waiting for them to join me. I should be out pounding the pavement, looking for Via. Instead, I'm playing chauffeur to people I've never met before. The things I do for my siblings. The next time I see Luca, I'm going to make sure he appreciates the favor I've done for him. I pull back the cuff of my jacket and check the time. We need to get a move on if we're to make it to the airport and then onto Malta in time for the wedding.

A giggle reaches me just before the sound of footsteps. I glance up to find a petite woman with dark blonde hair walking toward me. "You must be Massimo."

"Penny?" I shake her hand. Luca shared her contact details with me, and I called her earlier to let her know I was on my way.

"This is so exciting. I'm so thrilled for Luca and Jeanne. Are they really getting married?"

"It would seem that way, yes." I half-smile. Her happiness is infectious. Apparently, Jeanne has genuine friends who don't mind dropping everything in the middle of the day and rushing to attend her surprise wedding.

"Shall we?" I open the back of the car and gesture for her to get in.

"Oh, hold on, we're waiting for?—"

"Penny, did you take my passport? I can't find it." A new voice. A familiar voice. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

I pivot to find the woman who's haunted my every waking moment in the past week walking toward us.

She spots me at the same time and her jaw slackens. She blinks rapidly, then shakes her head as if to clear it. Her footsteps slow, until she comes to a pause in front of me. I rake my gaze over her flushed cheeks, her pink lips slightly parted, her gorgeous green eyes, wide with surprise.

"You? What are you doing here?"