Fuck. I grip the phone tighter. “His driver?”
“Garzolo drove to Ferraro’s on his own. His guards were a few blocks over in his penthouse, but he never returned. He must have been afraid Cleo would tell you what he asked of her and thought it best to skip town.”
Damn it.
I should have set Nero on Garzolo as soon as Cleo told me about his plan, but my head was somewhere else. That was a stupid move. I should have known that Garzolo was a flight risk. This is going to turn into a mess once his family starts asking about his whereabouts.
“If we can’t find him in a few days, I’ll need to step in to stop this from escalating.”
“How are you going to explain this to his family? They might suspect foul play.”
Of course they will. Their don disappears right after sitting down with me and Ferraro? Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.
If Nero had caught Garzolo, I would have roughed him up and demanded he tell his capos he’s taking his retirement early in exchange for his life. He’d do it, the fucking coward. I’d have given him a few weeks before I disposed of him for good. But with him just gone, this becomes more delicate. If the Garzolos think I killed their fucking don, his capos might turn on me.
“The family is mine. They all know I’m Garzolo’s successor, and now that I’m married to Cleo, no one will dare question my right to assume command if he’s skipped town.”
“If you move in too soon, it won’t look good.”
“Let’s give Garzolo five days to come back and face me like a man. If he doesn’t, schedule a meeting with all his capos so that we can get this moving.”
“Got it.”
I hang up and rake my fingers through my hair, feeling irritated. What was I thinking? All of this could have been avoided if I’d set Nero on Garzolo quicker. I roll my shoulders, trying to get rid of my building unease.
Last night, I wasn’t acting like myself. I was too fucking focused on deflowering my wife. Well, I’ve done it now. Bloody sheets and all.
Does that mean my life can finally go back to business as usual?
I thought getting what I wanted from Cleo would free me from this obsession. But where’s the relief? Where’s the mental clarity I was hoping for? It’s not here, that’s for fucking sure. Even now, after I’ve just screwed up with Garzolo, my head’s still preoccupied with Cleo. A part of me wants to skip work and stay in bed with her all day.
Jesus. Fuck.
I open the tap and splash some cold water on my face.
When I imagined myself with a wife, I always had a clear picture of what that marriage would look like—comfortable companionship with some sex sprinkled in. I’d appreciate her, and she’d respect me. We’d put on a united front in public and keep a healthy distance from each other in private.
After all, nothing good comes from getting too entangled with another person. Especially for someone in my position.
But this? This is not that picture, at all.
I need to figure out how to stay in control of myself as far as she’s concerned, or one day, I’m going to do something really fucking stupid. Something far worse than giving Garzolo a twelve-hour head start.
Maybe I just need a few weeks to fuck this obsession out of my head.
I drag my thumb over my bottom lip. Yes, that’s it. I’m going to fuck her until I tire of her. Until I can evict her from the space she’s inhabited in my head like an illegal squatter. Now that our game’s done and she’s spread her legs, the intrigue is gone. It won’t take me long to get back to safe ground. I’m sure of it.
I take a cold shower. It helps. By the time I start toweling myself off, my mind is firmly back on work matters.
I need to divert some resources from Albany to New Jersey so that we can do a proper search. Garzolo could not have gone far. No doubt he’s only retreated so that he can come up with a new plan to get rid of me. He’ll need allies for that, which means we need to put tails on all his closest buddies. Eventually, he’s bound to pop up somewhere.
I pull on some clothes and return to the bedroom. Cleo is up, her red hair tousled and messy, and her lips fixed in an adorable, sleepy pout.
I walk over to her and kiss her. It’s meant to be a peck, but before I know it, my tongue is in her mouth, she’s sucking on my bottom lip, and her fingers are playing with the buttons of my shirt. I break the kiss with a frustrated groan and take a step backward.
Work. I need to work.
She gives me a puppy-eyed look. “Where are you going?”
To shoot myself in the head, because that’s apparently the only way I’m going to be able to get her out of it.
I tug on my collar. “Your father is gone.”
This jolts her awake. She sits up, holding the sheet to her chest. “What?”
“He fled during the night. We’re looking for him now.”
“He must have realized I’d tell you the truth eventually,” she mutters as she slips out of bed, naked as the day she was born, and heads toward the closet. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to drag her back to bed.
She comes back out dressed in a black silk robe. “I can write down all the places he might be hiding.”
Surprise flickers through me. “You’ll help me hunt down your father?”
“He wants to kill you. He’s my enemy as much as he’s yours at this point.”
A tight fist squeezes around my heart. She’s trying to protect me? That’s not her job. That’s never been anyone’s job. Ever.
She walks across the carpet until she’s standing right before me and tips her head backward to look me in the eye. My nape prickles. Can she see how she weakens me? How she makes me waver in my convictions?
Her arms slide around my waist, and she pushes up on her tiptoes. The inches between us disappear as I lean down and kiss her. Again, it turns into something more. Something that makes my chest feel light and heavy at the same time. Emotions swell under the surface, threatening to burst out, and even though my gut is screaming “Danger! Back away!”, I don’t listen to its warning.
It’s only when I jerk her against me and she gasps in pain that I remember myself. I break the kiss. “Are you sore?”
Her lips are swollen and pink. She shifts her weight between her feet and winces. “Yeah. A bit.”
“Go take a bath. Relax. I don’t want you going to Loretta’s today.”
“It’s the weekend.”
“Right.”
She sighs and looks down at my tie. “But you have to go,” she says, sounding disappointed.
Don’t make this harder than it already is.
I cup her cheek and give her another kiss. “Send me that list. I’ll see you in the evening.”
I walk away from her, one painful step after another.
That night, Cleo is already in bed when I come home covered in blood.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God.” She springs out of bed and rushes over to me. “We need to call Doc.”