Page 6 of The Mafia’s Fiancee

Chapter 3

Luke

When I passed the outergates to the estate that I always thought was the Rossinis’ property, I had second thoughts. The enormous mansion set back on the road seemed old and neglected. While the structure was large and impressive, the grounds looked shabby, left to the invasion of weeds. No cars lined the circular drive out front. I spotted no activity coming or going from the place, but I refused to let the signs of abandonment deter me.

Parking a ways back, I watched the guard house at the gate. A man stood in there, watching the main road that led to his post.

He had to be positioned there to guard something or someone in that huge mansion.

Right?

Once more, I grew frustrated with the idleness of scoping out this place. A home, one that might be mine. If Marlo lived here, then whatever he had could one day be mine, as his son.

A mafia boss’s son. I shook my head, still struggling to accept that news. Whether I was Marlo Rossini’s son or not, nothing would change the fact that I was Emma’s fiancé.

She was counting on me. She had been taken, and I needed to act now in getting her back. Sitting here and ruminating that this massive estate could belong to me was a ridiculous waste of time.

But I waited. For just a few more moments, I waited out of sight and planned how to do this.

I didn’t have a weapon. I had nothing by my fists and wits. Rushing in with a demand to see Jimmy at this Rossini residence wouldn’t help Emma. If I were caught and withheld from barging in, it’d put me back further from finding her.

Once I was satisfied that no patrols would come by this part of the land, I left Randy’s car hidden behind a tree and jogged closer to the gate. Climbing over it wasn’t as easy as I thought it might be, but this also wasn’t my first time sneaking in somewhere. I scaled it and dropped on the other side, onto the private property.

No one came. Nothing stirred.

The whole place seemed desolate and abandoned, void of life.

If this was my best connection to find Jimmy and get answers about Emma, I was really reaching. Desperate. I was. I was desperate to find her, and I’d exhaust all means of finding her.

The lack of patrolling guards made me uneasy, and as I crept closer to the house, I worried that I’d find it abandoned. I resisted the nagging thought that it was nothing but a rumor that the Rossinis lived here. The place was grand, something befitting a mafia lord if it wasn’t so rundown. But no one seemed to be here. It didn’t look like a place I might find Jimmy.

The only reassurance was the evidence of recent tire marks on the drive toward the side.

Here, at a side door, I finally found evidence that I wasn’t alone.

I opened the door, surprising a tall, broad-shouldered man. Recognition hit me instantly, but I couldn’t latch on to his name. I’d seen him before. I knew that. As his brows shot up in surprise and his mouth dropped open, it seemed the feeling was mutual.

I remained tense, bracing for an attack because I was trespassing.

“Luke—”

He knew my name. He was that much further of a step ahead of me, but his voice didn’t trigger any clues. While I was certain this wasn’t the first time I’d met him, this beefy guy who looked like a guard, I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before.

And I wasn’t going to wait for an answer. I wasn’t here to see him. I intended to find Jimmy. To get answers for how I could locate Emma. I stepped forward, intending to barge the rest of the way inside.

“Luke, no. Wait.”

He reached toward his side, and I didn’t hesitate. If he was grabbing a gun to stop me, I wouldn’t give him a chance to shoot.

I lunged at him, fighting him with all the pent-up energy I’d been bottling in. No one else rushed in, and all the while we fought and he shouted at me to stop, I vented and pummeled him to the ground.

Heaving in deep breaths, I left him panting and groaning on the floor.

“Jimmy?” I called out.

If the sounds of me fighting this guard didn’t alert someone else to investigate, my yells would.

I strained to catch my breath as I ran further into the house, calling for Jimmy. Through this side area, the kitchen, more grand, enormous rooms that looked like ghosts resided in them, and then onto a huge central foyer. I ran without paying attention to the details, determined to find my uncle or someone else from the Rossini organization who’d give me some fucking answers.