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Chapter 24
Damiano
Dressed in black cargo pants, a long-sleeved shirt, a coat, and boots, I tuck my Glock behind my back as I leave my suite.
As I take the stairs down to the first floor, my phone starts to buzz like crazy.
I dig the device out of my pocket, and a dark frown forms on my forehead as I answer, “What?”
“The hotel is on fire!” Emilio shouts, sirens blaring in the background.
Anger explodes in my chest, my fingers tightening around the phone.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m on my way.”
“Carlo!” My voice thunders through the foyer.
He comes running out of my mother’s sitting room. “What?”
“The hotel is on fucking fire,” I relay the message to him as I stalk toward the French doors. When I step out onto the veranda, I mutter, “You’ll have to fly.”
“On it.” He runs ahead of me to start the helicopter.
When I climb inside, I glance at the house and see Gabriella standing on her balcony. She’s only wearing a bathrobe, and it’s freezing outside.
I yank my phone out, but not remembering the number Gabriella used to call me last week, I send a text to Gerardo.
Get Gabriella off the balcony. She’s not allowed out in the cold until she has warmer clothes.
We lift into the air, and I keep my eyes on her. She glances behind her, and I see Gerardo pulling her into the room before shutting the door.
As Carlo turns the aircraft in the direction of Manhattan, I shove my phone back into my pocket.
During the flight, ice pours into my veins, and the soft spot Gabriella carved out in my heart hardens again.
Twenty minutes later, Carlo sets us down on the helipad, and I shove the door open.
“Wait for me,” he says as he switches everything off.
Impatient to get to the hotel, I order, “Hurry the fuck up.”
“It’s a helicopter, not a fucking car,” he mutters.
I clench my jaw, and by the time he joins me, I’m ready to kill someone.
We take the elevator down to the basement and rush to the SUV.
I climb into the passenger seat while Carlo slides behind the steering wheel. When he starts the engine, he says, “Hopefully, there isn’t too much damage to the hotel.”
“Hmm,” I grumble.
The roads are fucking busy, and as we get closer to the area where the hotel is and I see the plumes of dark smoke, rage shudders through me.
I’m going to kill whoever’s responsible for the fire.
The road is closed, and Carlo has to park two blocks away. I climb out of the SUV, and pushing my hand beneath my coat, my fingers curl around the handle of my Glock as we begin to walk in the direction of the hotel.
Carlo’s tense beside me, and we both keep glancing around us. He stays between the road and me.
