Page 17 of Mafia Daddy's Girl

My vision tunnels. My knees buckle, my body tilting, but before I can hit the ground, Marco catches me. He fists a hand in my hair, yanking my head back so I have to look up at him. Through the haze of dizziness, I see his face—blood dripping from his nose, eyes dark with rage.

“You just had to fight, didn’t you?” he growls. His grip tightens, fingers tangling in my hair as he wrenches me closer. “I would have made this easy on you, you know. But Enzo and Alessandroboth made you think you're more important than you really are. Well, allow me to rectify that."

Then he hits me again, and all I know is darkness.

7

ALESSANDRO

The air in Bellissimo feels off as soon as I walk in. It’s a shift so slight that most wouldn’t notice it, but I do. Conversations stop when I pass by, and men stare at the floor instead of meeting my eye. There’s an undercurrent of tension that has alarm bells ringing in my head.

There’s only one person in this building I care about, and I’m determined to confirm her safety before trying to get to the bottom of whatever bullshit is going on here.

I move fast, stalking through the main floor and heading toward the stairs. The elevator would be too slow. I try to keep my cool. Emmy should be at her desk in front of my office like she always is. I told her to stay put until I finished up with business, thinking she’d be safe enough with the floor being inaccessible without a keycard, but dread had already started to settle in my chest.

The hallway is too quiet when I reach the top floor. Her desk is empty, but the office door is open just a crack, light spilling intothe dim corridor, and for a beat, I start to relax. She’s just inside my office. Nothing is wrong.

And then I see it.

The chair behind the desk is tipped over. Papers are scattered across the floor, twisted and crumpled as if whoever had been holding them was involved in a struggle. All of that fades into the background when I see the red.

A smear of red stains the corner of the desk. The world tilts around me.

I stare at the blood for one long, frozen second before my pulse explodes in my ears, drowning out every other sound. Rage threatens to drown me, but I can’t give in to it. Not yet, not when I still need to find her and whatever bastard would dare to touch what is mine.

I don't even recall running back down the stairs to the main floor, throwing the door open so hard that it slams against the wall. The clatter of wine glasses and silverware stops at the sound, and when I turn the corner into the bar, everyone is staring at me.

"Everyone in the meeting room. NOW. We've got work to do."

There's a pause where no one moves, but I'm not fucking around. My voice is dangerously calm. "That wasn't a suggestion. Get your asses moving."

I turn on my heel, not waiting for them to follow me. I know they will. When I reach the meeting room, I pace, trying to get a grip on the rage and fear making my pulse thunder in my ears.

Someone took her from me. Someone hurt her. And I'm going to make them wish they'd never been born.

The others start filing in, taking their seats, but I can barely look at them. They're all suspects, as far as I'm concerned.

"What the hell is going on, Boss?" one of the men—Lorenzo, a Caporegime—asks, breaking the silence.

"You're here because there's a rat in this room, and I want to know who it is."

There are murmurs of confusion, but I don't care.

"Someone was in my office today while I was gone, and they hurt someone very important to me." I push my suit jacket aside, hand resting on my pistol as I scan the group. "She was bleeding. There was blood. I'm not letting anyone walk out of here until I find out who the fuck did this."

"We'll find her, Boss, but this isn't the way to do it," Lorenzo says. "Just tell us what to do.”

"Someone sold Enzo out. And now they've taken Emilia. I don't want to think it's any of you, but that doesn't mean I won't do whatever the hell it takes to find out."

My voice is deadly, and everyone knows I mean business. They all know what I'm capable of. Hell, in the last week, some of them have seen me make grown men beg for their lives with nothing more than my words and my fists.

"I want every inch of this city searched. Someone has seen something, and we're going to find out who. Do you understand? And if any harm comes to her..." I let my voice trail off. I don't need to finish the threat.

They nod, murmuring agreements. Lorenzo clears his throat. "Boss, we should probably call in the Underboss. He isn't here."

Fucking Marco. A thread of suspicion shoots through me, but I keep my expression steady. Surely Enzo's hand-picked second wouldn't dream of being a traitor. "Do it."

The men file out, and I watch them leave, my jaw clenched so tight it's painful. The Underboss might be Enzo's man, but he's also one of the few people who has access to my office. I trust him implicitly, and the idea that he could betray me is more than I can fathom.

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