Page 52 of Sins of the Father
“Tonight.”
Mia froze mid-step, the wind tugging at her skirt. “Truly?”
“Yes. I’ll have the jet readied and be with you soon. We could have a movie night.”
A startled laugh escaped her. “I suspect you’re only coming back because I called.”
“Yes.”
“What about your meetings?”
“My wife needs me. They can wait.”
She tried to scoff, but her voice trembled. “Why would you think I need you?”
“Because you called me—for the first time since the attack.”
A lump rose in her throat. The tide lapped at her feet, cool against the warmth of the sand. “I was… feeling lonely,” she admitted.
“Then I am failing. My wife should never feel lonely. I will have a surprise present for you.”
“I like gifts,” Mia said, laughing.
They chatted for a few more minutes, then they ended the call. Mia stood for a moment with the phone still pressed to her ear, as if she could hold on to the echo of his voice a little longer. The tide rolled in, cool and insistent around her ankles, tugging at her skirt. A smile curved her lips. Before she could think better of it, she set the phone down on the sand and waded into the water. The sea closed around her calves, her thighs, and then her waist, the chill biting at her skin until it became invigorating. She went farther still, until the waves lifted her off her feet.
Mia stretched out on her back, surrendering to the current. The water rocked her gently, her hair fanning out around her like a dark halo. Overhead, gulls wheeled across a sky brushed with the colors of early evening. She closed her eyes and let the salt kiss her lips, and the sun warm her face.
For the first time in weeks, she felt weightless—untethered from fear, from grief, from the relentless ache that had shadowed her since the attack. The sound of Luc’s voice still lingered in her mind, steady and certain. As she floated, a calm settled deep in her chest. It wasn’t joy exactly, but something steadier. A fragile, shimmering contentment. For now, it was enough.
Luc’s knuckleswhitened against the edge of his desk. Rage pulsed through him—sharp, coiled, barely contained. For the past weeks, he’d been investigating every man in his employ: where they’d been, who they’d met, which accounts held more money than they should.
His home had been breached. Mia had nearly been taken. He could not stop replaying it. Even in sleep, the images came—Carlos’s voice crackling over the phone, the words Mia was attacked—and the feelings that had writhed through Luc’s chest that day still unsettled him.
She was no longer a pawn. Somewhere along the way, Mia had become his. That made her dangerous. That made her a weakness. Despite knowing it, he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. Weaknesses were not allowed.
Shoving the thoughts away, he strode into the secure room they used for tactical briefings. Carlos and Antonio stood over a table littered with maps and surveillance photos, their postures taut. Luc didn’t waste breath.
“What do we have?” he asked.
Antonio stepped forward, calm and precise. “We’ve narrowed it down to three men. All three have worked at the main house for the last three months with no rotation to other properties, and each received sizeable deposits to their accounts within the past three weeks. Two of them were on duty the day Mia was attacked. Only one would have known the bodyguards’ rotations and the best window to infiltrate. The footage shows a team of five—three stayed at the front to create the distraction and draw almost all the guards.”
Luc took the papers Carlos handed him and froze when he saw the name.
John.
“Half a million deposited into his account the day Mia was nearly taken,” Luc said, voice low, an icy current running through him. “This bank account is in Malta.”
“Yes,” Carlos replied. “He moved the money around a few times, but we traced it.”
Luc skimmed the files on the other two foot soldiers. One had a deposit of ten thousand; the other, twenty thousand. He returned to John’s statement and felt the old, bitter twist of betrayal.
He had trusted John. Relied on him. For years, John had stood beside their father through alliances and betrayals. If anyone should have known the full scope of Bonino’s double dealings, it was John—present at every meeting, every whispered conversation that shaped the family’s future. He’d been the eyes and the ears. Why would he do this?
“Keep discreet surveillance on John,” Luc said. “We must be sure before making any move. Find the source of that money, Antonio. Dig into everything he’s done in the last ten years. Put our best hackers on it. Carlos, place discreet tails on him and ensure they are never seen. I want to know whom he meets, where he goes each day, who he’s sleeping with, and every call he makes or receives. Report everything to me directly.”
Antonio inclined his head.
Carlos hesitated, brow furrowing. “I see the half-million in his account, and it is concerning, but John… he’s always been loyal.”
