Page 213 of Vicious Intentions
It can’t be.
Could he really be—
“Or maybe he just wants to kidnap her again,” Stella cuts in, though uncertainty creeps into her voice.
Hope crashes inside me so violently it nearly steals my breath away.
It’s Raffaele.
That’s who they’re talking about.
My shoulders sag with disappointment, but I still don’t move from the doorway. If Raffaele is in Chicago, then I want to speak to him. I need to know how Paolina is doing. I’ve been sick with worry over her mental state. A mother should never have to lose a child like that. And like me, Paolina loved Matteo with her whole heart.
“You’re starting to sound like Anna, wife,” Jude mutters tiredly.
“And maybe that’s a good thing, considering it’s obvious this family refuses to read the writing on the wall,” Mina counters, slipping fully into her Boss-of-the-London-Firm voice. “I know this didn’t happen the way we wanted it to. I know this bloody mess has only gotten worse with every day the Outfit and the Cosa Nostra continue this war. But this is the reality we’ve been given. They love each other. Annamaria and Matteo love each other. And keeping them apart is downright cruel.”
This time, my heart doesn’t just beat.
It soars.
I don’t wait to hear another word. I storm into the office like a banshee straight out of hell.
“He’s alive?!” I shout, my voice cracking with fury and disbelief. “Matteo is alive?!”
Every head snaps toward me, my siblings and their partners looking equally ashen and horrified.
“When were you going to tell me?” I demand. “When?!”
“When we thought you could handle it better,” Marcello answers evenly, Izzie still standing quietly beside him, her fingers threaded through his.
“You haven’t exactly been yourself lately,” Jude adds carefully, clearly trying to defuse the situation.
“We just didn’t want to make you suffer more than you already were,” Stella says softly as she rises from Kirill’s lap.
My gaze cuts across every single one of them, disbelief roaring through me.
They knew.
They all knew.
And somehow they still thought they had the right to decide what was best for my life.
My life!
“Where is he?” I ask, my voice low and deadly.
“Anna, I don’t think—” Stella starts, only to fall silent when I level her with a murderous glare.
“I won’t ask again.” My chest heaves in anger. “Where is my husband?”
“He’s being held in the basement of Dad’s club,” Marcello explains, his expression remaining unreadable.
“Then that’s where you’re taking me.” I take a step toward him. “Now.”
Everyone stares at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. Everyone except Marcello.
Much like my father, Vincent, my brother remains perfectly calm under pressure. I suppose that’s a necessary trait when you becomeCapo dei Capi.
