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About the wedding . . .
I’ll need a plus one.
Chapter Twenty-One
KENNEDY
After a fun-filled day at the beach with the girls and Truffles, I find myself tossing and turning again. We all missed Enzo, and his absence gnaws at me.
The clock blinks extra bright now, telling me that it’s one in the morning, and the whole world is pitch black.
Where is he?
I mean, after last night, I wasn’t exactly expecting a marriage proposal, but he seems distant.
And if anyone should be distant, it should be me. Highly guarded, fleeing with my sanity intact. He doesn’t understand I’ve had walls up my entire life. When Da died, so many parts of me died with him. It’s a wonder anything is left.
Enzo going MIA is triggering as fuck, and goddamnit, why doesn’t he call?
When my phone pings, I grab it in a rush, my heart fluttering with the hope that it’s him.
But it’s not. Surprise, surprise, it’s Agent Caleb Knox.
Again.
Can’t this guy take a hint?
C.K.
Are you okay?
Me
For the thousandth time, yes.
Why do you keep asking me this?
He sends several texts—photos of Enzo going in and coming out of a building, with timestamps and all.
I squint at the images, trying to place the location. Why does that building look familiar? I feel like I know it.
Then it hits me. The building the women came out of. The local brothel.
But I thought he shut that down.
No. That can’t be. I frown and scan the images again and again. And again. Expanding them to make sure it’s not a trick. Some Italian doppelgänger or pod person.
But it is him. Same shirt. Same face.
Same butthead. Different day.
My heart squeezes so hard, it feels like it’s being slowly carved out of my chest.
C.K.
He was in there for 5 hours.
