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RAFAEL
The phone rings before daybreak, startling me from a fitful sleep. Antonio.
Christ.
Before we contacted the Porto police last night, I called Antonio. I didn’t want him blindsided by the news. I have too much respect for him to allow that to happen. I owe him too much. I mentioned Francesca Russo, but not Alexis. I agreed not to call her father, but I couldn’t be sure Antonio would grant her that grace.
I groan and answer the call. “Bom dia,” I mutter.
“Bom dia,” he says in a glib tone that tells me he knows he woke me.
Antonio’s been a father to me since shortly after my mother disappeared. Not a father figure, but a father. He’s the reason I’m still in one piece. Alive. But he’s also a ballbuster who’d be easier to deal with after a shower and some caffeine.
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replies dismissively. “I understand the men you captured last night were turned over to the authorities in rough shape.”
So much for the pleasantries. “That’s what happens when you try to escape.”
“Tried to escape?” He chuckles. “Is that the story we’re telling?”
“They got off easy.”
“I’m proud of you, Rafael.”
I’m proud of you, Rafael. It doesn’t matter that I’m a grown man soon to take over an empire—those words, from Antonio, never get old.
“Those assholes have been terrorizing much of Europe for too long,” he continues. “I’m also pleased you found the self-control to keep the bullets in your gun.”
“They have information the authorities need to track down victims. The families deserve to know what happened to their loved ones. That’s the only reason the bastards are still polluting the earth.” I draw a breath. “But I wouldn’t have wasted a single bullet on those animals. I would have stared into their eyes while choking the life out of them.”
He pauses for a long moment. “I heard Alexis was with them and that she’s now with you.”
Here we go. There’s nothing, nothing, that happens in Porto that Antonio doesn’t know. He has eyes everywhere.
“She slipped her security, and she’s in the country alone. We both know flesh peddlers are dangerous motherfuckers.”
“Lexie needs your protection. Ahh. You’re acting as a good Samaritan. Silly me. I thought you took her home for more selfish reasons.”
I didn’t, but it crossed my mind more than once.
“What was I supposed to do? Valentina’s out of the country. She’s practically family. I had to do something with her.”
“Her father doesn’t see it quite that way.”
Her father. “He called?”
“About twenty minutes ago. He heard about what happened at Sirena last night and can’t reach his daughter. He knows she’s at Huntsman Lodge. He’s pissed. Really pissed.”
Can’t really blame him, although I’d prefer not to be the target of his anger—especially when it comes to his daughter. “Is he coming to Porto?”
“I talked him out of it. For now. I assured him that I’d get to the bottom of what was going on and get back to him. Among other things, he’s concerned that Lexie is in your bed. That you might have taken advantage of the situation.”
“So heartwarming that Will, and you, believe I’m that kind of opportunist.” He hit a nerve, and my response is snarky and defensive. “She’s staying at Valentina’s apartment, and I’m staying at mine. If you’d like, feel free to interrogate Giana and Sabio about the sleeping arrangements. They’ve been with Lexie since Sirena.”
He doesn’t jump to take me up on the offer, but he doesn’t shy away from asking a question that I know is difficult for him. “Are you sure she isn’t involved?”
Antonio’s known the Clarkes for longer than I have. His mother, my Aunt Lydia, married Lexie’s grandfather after her husband died. She treated Lexie’s mother, Samantha, like a daughter, and Lexie—along with Valentina, who came into the picture much later—were her greatest joys in life.
