Page 66 of Lorenzo

“Donna.”

Alessio looks up. “Now?”

“She is at the gate.”

I leave the dining room and cross toward the front of the house. By the time I open the door, headlights are moving up the drive.

Donna’s car comes to a stop near the front steps.

I stand in the doorway and watch her get out.

Then I notice Mocha in the back seat.

That is even stranger.

She brought the dog. She must have found something urgent.

Donna closes the driver’s door and walks quickly toward me. She has a bag over one shoulder, and her expression is focused enough that I do not bother with a greeting.

“You said your sons were staying with you for the time being, right?”

“Yes.”

“I need to speak to Alessio. Now.”

“I’m right here.”

His voice comes from behind me.

I turn slightly.

Alessio has followed me from the dining room. Edoardo stands a few steps behind him, his attention fixed on Donna.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a photograph, keeping it turned toward her body.

“I need to show you a picture,” she says.

Alessio steps forward, confusion crossing his face. “Okay.”

Donna hands it to him.

“Is that the woman you were with that night?”

His expression changes the instant he looks down.

Horror strips every trace of color from his face.

“What the fuck?” His head snaps up. “Why would you show me this?”

I take the photograph from his hand before Donna can answer.

A dead woman lies beside the bed in a hotel room. The image is close enough to show the bruising around her throat and the red dress covering her body.

Genevieve Sorel.

Rage hits so fast that I barely feel myself turn.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”