Page 90 of The Proposal

Dante

I’ve spent most of my day sifting through the things collected from Edoardo’s office, but I’ve yet to find anything interesting.

The laptop and two phones have been sent to Sydney for Spencer Prescott, my tech guy, to examine. This is my last chance to get the rest of the puzzle pieces I need.

The only way I’m going to get to the root of this mess is to discover the depth of his betrayal and who else was involved. I can’t eliminate the threats until I know who they are. Given how far Edoardo’s hatred went, my gut tells me there’s more to uncover.

When my driver pulls up outside Edoardo’s mistress’s house, I remain in the vehicle while Romeo goes to retrieve her.

A few days have passed since I wiped that motherfucker off the face of this earth, so it’s only a matter of time before someone reports him missing.

As a precaution, I need to dot every ‘i’ and cross every ’t’. It’s imperative that I tie up all the loose ends so none of this can come back and bite me on the arse further down the line.

When Romeo returns to the waiting limousine with thewoman in tow, I’m again struck by her youth. She doesn’t look much older than my wife. She also seems quietly terrified, which is what I was hoping for. My presence alone will either get her talking or scare her into keeping her mouth closed if she suspects anything untoward has happened.

I wind down my window as they approach the car. “M-Mr Mancini,” she stutters. “You wanted to speak with me?”

A part of me feels bad for her, even more so when I notice the yellowing bruise on her cheek. How could my father be so blind to his best friend’s evilness? My brother saw straight through him. I, on the other hand, trusted Papa’s lead implicitly.

“Yes. I’m looking for Edoardo. Have you seen him?”

“N-no.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Three days ago,” she answers, which I know is the truth.

“Did he mention he was going somewhere? I’ve been unable to contact him for days.”

Her eyes shift to Romeo, who’s still looming beside her, before moving back to me. I give her an easy smile, reassuring her she’s in no danger. “Umm … no. But he’s been acting weird lately.”

“Weird,” I say, arching an eyebrow.

“I … I don’t want to get him into any trouble.”

“You won’t,” I assure her. He’s already suffered the worst of it. “He’s family,” I add, and those words taste so fucking bitter on my tongue. “I’m just concerned for his welfare. It’s unlike him to up and disappear without saying something.”

“I don’t know where he is, but I have a feeling he’s in some kind of trouble.”

“Why would you think that?”

“He’s been acting paranoid. He’d make me turn all the lights off as soon as he arrived here, and then he would stand by the window and stare into the darkness. Maybe someone has been following him?”

“Maybe,” I say, casually lifting one shoulder. “He never mentioned anything to me. Did he give you any indication other than that?”

“No,” she replies, shaking her head. “He always told me it wasn’t my place if I asked questions.”

I nod. “How was he acting the last time you saw him?”

“He got a notification on his phone, went apeshit and then took off.”

“Is that how you got that bruise?” I ask, gesturing to her cheek.

She bows her face and doesn’t reply, which tells me I’m right. The Cosa Nostra has certain rules and unspoken codes of behaviour that are meant to maintain the image of honour, respect, and loyalty. Violence towards women is definitely frowned upon. I hope that fucker is already burning in hell where he belongs.

“Do you own this place?” I ask, flicking my chin towards the house.

“No. I rent.”

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