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“Regina Gallo is pregnant. Devon is the father. Seems they have been seeing each other in secret for quite a while.” My hands are folded in my lap, keeping me from fidgeting.
A kaleidoscope of emotions flits across Konnor’s face. Shock, disbelief, and sadness before settling on anger.
“And Raphael sent you here to keep the peace. A woman?” He raises an eyebrow.
“First, I am here of my own volition. I want to make sure that neither Regina nor Devon gets hurt. The shit between the Hennies and Gallos shouldn’t affect them,” I say leaning forward. “Second, we’ve known each other our whole lives, Konnor. I may have been born a woman but I know more about you than most of the men who work here. Don’t be a cunt.”
A laugh slips from between his lips before he shakes his head. “Fair enough. Anything else?”
“Rafe doesn’t know.”
I fold my arms across my chest, Konnor staring at me in shock.
“What is going on, Willow?” he asks, genuine concern coating each word.
“Nothing to worry about, Kon. But I need a place to stay for a couple of hours.”
Chapter Seven
False Front
Rafe
An empty space fills the rumpled bedclothes where my wife should be. I place the breakfast tray aside that I whisked away from Luca minutes earlier, grinning like a fucking loon as I walked up the stairs, ready to surprise her. That smile slips from my face the moment I enter the room devoid of life.
Not a single sound emanates from the en suite, every trace of her presence is cold.
She’s gone.
I had a feeling the night before that something deep changed between us. Maybe it’s the family pressure, the flights, the funeral. Maybe it’s my anger.
Maybe it’s me.
An excruciating pain fills my chest. My breath lodges there, stuck. Where the hell would she go? Willow has no family, except for the brother I sent away—for his own good, for fuck’s sake. The kid’s so traumatized he’s nonverbal. But separating them was a mistake. I know that now.
What the hell else did I miss?
Everything, apparently.
I thought she loved me, that what we have borders on perfection in this fucked-up life.
My breath hangs heavy in my chest with no exit strategy. Adrenaline spikes my bloodstream with the need to do something. The tray leaves my hands, the coffeepot the first thing to shatter against the pristine snowy wall opposite me. Its blackened innards drip onto slivered fragments beneath, a broken picture of the whole it was a moment before.
“Luca!” I roar, loud enough to rouse the house. “Dom!”
Footsteps thunder along the stairs. Dom’s dark head pokes through the door first, his hair rumpled. We finished with business for the night an hour before, and he looks more than worse for wear.
Jet lag doesn’t help.
“What?” He peers around the room. “Luca’s coffee was shit, huh?”
“She’s gone.”
“Fucking what?’ Dom has the grace to look at me, annoyed. “Did she go for a run?”
“She hates running,” I snap. “And I know, Dom. She’s not on the premises.”
“But you haven’t checked.” His brow dips, and I know his methodical ass is about to rip me a new one.
