Page 71 of The Kingpin’s Bride

Her father speaking in low tones with another man in the study. Dario Rizzo’s name. A child being moved. A private airstrip north of the city that didn’t file proper flight plans. The kind of place men used when they didn’t want anyone tracking what left the ground.

A thin lead. But it was more than I had walked in with.

I programmed the approximate location into the burner phone. My body was running on pure adrenaline and the last scraps of rage. Exhaustion waited just behind my eyes, ready to drag me under the second I let myself stop.“Thank you,” I said.

Bella looked at me for a long moment. “You should know… my father got a call earlier tonight. Matteo’s people are asking if anyone’s seen anything unusual. They’re looking for you, obviously.”

I turned toward the door, the burner phone heavy in the pocket of the borrowed pants, the lead about the airstrip burning in my mind like the only clean thing I had left.

I had a direction now. North. Toward the airstrips. Toward whatever thin chance remained of finding Camilla before Dario disappeared with her completely.

I was reaching for the handle when the front door opened. Keys in the lock. The soft sound of a medical bag being set down on marble. Footsteps that belonged to a man who moved through the world with quiet, precise authority.

Bella went rigid beside me.

I turned.

The mafia doctor stood in the entryway.

Same calm face. Same careful hands. The same man who had examined me after the auction while I was trying not to fall apart. The man who had written notes about my fertility and my body like I was inventory. He stopped dead when he saw me.

His eyes moved from my face to the high neck of the sweater, then to his daughter, then back to me.

Recognition was instant and mutual and absolute.

The air left the room.

Bella whispered, “Papa…”

He didn’t answer her. He only looked at me, and I looked back at the man who had once put gloved fingers on my skin while Matteo watched. The burner phone in my pocket felt suddenly heavy with the only lead I had on my sister.

Nobody moved.

Bella stood frozen between us, her face white. The medical bag sat on the marble floor where he had set it down. The only sound in the entryway was the soft click of the door settling shut behind him.

He looked at me the same way he had looked at me the first time. Clinical. Measuring. Like he was cataloguing the damage.

“Bella, dear,” he said quietly. “Go upstairs.”

She opened her mouth. He gave her a single look. She closed it again, shot me one last panicked glance, and left. Her footsteps faded up the stairs. Now it was just the two of us.

He set his keys on the console table with deliberate care. “How long have you been gone?”

“Long enough.”

“Does your husband know you’re here?”

“Not yet.”

He studied the high neck of the sweater. He gestured toward the kitchen. “will not call him in the next ten minutes. After that, I make no promises.”

I almost laughed. It came out sharp and empty. “You’re offering me a head start?”

“I am offering you a chance to not collapse on my floor. Sit.”

I sat. He washed his hands at the sink, pulled on a pair of gloves from the bag, and crouched in front of me like this was any other examination. His touch was impersonal. Professional.

“You walked out,” he said while he worked. “With no money. No phone. No plan.”