Page 139 of Alessio

Corrado wouldn’t fix this mess—not the one made of himself, or the one he made with Ginevra because she had gone back to New York. Alessio would fix it because that’s just what he did.

They were all human.

They all made mistakes.

Alessio would let Corrado make his.

And he would fix them.

“Ginevra Calabrese, lives in New York, and she’s the illegitimate daughter of a dead Cosa Nostra boss,” Alessio said to Dare. “She has two full-blood sisters, if that helps to narrow it down. And her half-brothers were recently killed. Her half-sister, Siena, is still alive, same last name. You’ll find her somewhere around the Marcello family now, I think. I need as much information on her as you can pull for me by the time I get back. No one can be aware you’re pulling it and leave it in one of my folders for me to grab when I come back.”

Dare cocked a single brow. “That’s a woman.”

“And?”

“Why are you doing a check on a woman?”

“Because she’s ours,” Alessio explained, “and I don’t like waiting for other people to figure shit out that should be obvious.”

Dare didn’t reply.

Alessio was fine with that.

He had a fucking plane to catch, now.

Somehow—by the grace of God—traffic in Toronto hadn’t been bad. He went twenty over the speed limit to make it back to the penthouse with lots of time to still catch his flight on the way back, though. Not that it left him very much breathing room for minutes to stay … because it didn’t.

Alessio had a whole …

He checked the dashboard, the digital clock spelling out the time for him as he pulled the car he’d left at the airport when he first left the city to a stop in front of the building. Right in a No-Parking zone, too.

Fuck it.

Tow it, motherfuckers.

Ten minutes.

It’s all Alessio had to spare right now. If in that time he wasn’t able to convince Corrado to pull his motherfucking head out of his ridiculous ass, well, he would go to plan B. Which unfortunately, would have to wait until he got back on the continent.

Perfect.

Life loved him.

Sarcasm was Alessio’s best friend.

He left the car running at the curb, knowing he would be back down here and speeding through the city in no time to get back to the goddamn airport. Ignoring the look the doorman passed him when he didn’t even wait for the older gentleman to open the door, Alessio headed into the building.

He didn’t bother with the front desk—rarely did, anyway—instead opting to head for the bank of elevators at the other side of the entrance. A lady behind the desk calling his first name made Alessio hesitate in his steps.

He shot the redhead a look over his shoulder. “What?”

She smiled, waving a white envelope for him. “I’m supposed to give this to you, if I saw you come through.”

What?

He felt like a parrot.

Even inside his head.