Page 179 of Dark Angel
She answered, her sleepy voice making him smile. “Hey, you okay?”
People wanted somethingfromhim, but no one askedabouthim. His dark heart filled with hope.
“Hey, baby, I’m good. I’m coming home to you.”
“Baby?” Monroe blurted. “What is going on?”
“That’s my cousin, Monroe,” Gabriel said to Halston.
“Hi,” Halston said.
“What’s your name?” Monroe asked.
“Barbi.”
Monroe chuckled. “You’re dating Barbi. That’s a good one.”
“We’re in another blackout,” Halston said. “I sent you a text.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now. I’m at the hotel, but I’ve gotta work today. Things got weird there yesterday.”
He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to tell her to hide from the evil, but that wasn’t Halston, so he’d lean in and fill her with confidence.
“You got this,” he said. “Sin is sending someone to pick me up. I’ll text you when I know my departure time.”
“I hope youcanland.”
“I’ll get home to you no matter what.”
“Safe travels.”
“I love you.”
“Aw, you just made my day. I love you too. Bye Monroe.”
“Hey, Barbi, tell Ken I said hi,” Monroe quipped before Gabriel hung up. “The Bossman of Cosa Nostra has fallen in love with a doll. Only you, cousin, only you.”
Gabriel chuckled.
His phone rang with a call from his pilot.
He answered. “Tell me.”
“We’re scheduled for takeoff at four this afternoon,” his pilot said. “Puts us at Dulles around seven. Please be at charter flights and checked in by three-thirty.”
Twenty minutes later, Monroe pulled up to the entrance of Santini International Euro, a twelve-story building in the heart of Milan, and stopped under the stark white archway.
Two guardsmen scurried over, opened their car doors.
“Welcome back, Mr. Santini.”
“Hello, Ms. Santini. Always a pleasure.”
A tight nod before he entered his kingdom. This had always been his sanctuary, an unplanned escape from the madness and mayhem that had been his criminal life. Here, hard-working employees created and designed. Here, they turned luxurious fabrics into stunning garments. Here is where magic happened.
Gabriel took in the sights, the sounds, the familiar vanilla and cinnamon fragrance wafting in the air. The two-story lobby was filled with oversized white sofas, large black coffee tables and small side tables. Five receptionists looked impeccable in their black Santini suits and bold white shirts. Three women, two men. They offered a friendly smile and a wave, or they stood and extended a hand.
