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“But… how? Why?”
Anger burst through my body mixed with intense guilt. Guilt that I was relieved. Relieved that it wasn’t Elle. But also, guilt that it was the other woman in my life I had sworn to protect. And failed. I had failed them both.
I suddenly stood up, pocketing the bag in my suit jacket. I nodded to Giorgio as he stepped away and I stormed around the side of my car to climb back inside. Fabi was hot on my tail.
“What the fuck just happened? Who killed Isabelle?” Fabi growled as my driver started up the engine.
“Buccini,” I replied with clenched fists. “He killed Stefano and took Elle. He must have captured Isabelle and her men on her way to the airport this morning and killed them just to send me a message.”
“Has he not realised he just signed his own death certificate?” Fabi shouted.
“He doesn’t care. It’s revenge.”
“Where are we going? What are you going to do now?” he asked, watching me carefully as the darkness that lived deep inside me came to the surface of my skin. I turned my head so he could see the coldness in my eyes. My mind was now focused. Controlled. Full of hatred. I’d been willing to play fair. Then he insulted me by refusing my meeting. He killed Stefano. He killed Isabelle. He took Elle from me. There was no way she would have gone willingly, which only ignited the fire inside me even more. A fire that would only rampage and burn everything to the ground until I had her back in my arms.
“We are going to the North,” I replied confidently. A small smile played on Fabi’s lips when he saw my determination. “Buccini has made his choice. Now I am making mine.”
“I want to know how the fuck Giovanni managed to achieve this right under our fucking noses!” I growled at Elio down the phone as we made our way towards Leone’s estate in Venice. “How did he find out Elenora’s whereabouts and capture Isabelle? Why didn’t any of Isabelle's men notify me the moment they sensed trouble? This is a fucking mess, Elio, and it’s not adding up!”
“I understand. I am working on it. We have CCTV footage of Giovanni, Cecilia and his men leaving the airport. I am still working on tracking their movements after that.”
“I want this done by the end of the day.”
“Sure,” he responded and I frowned at his lack of respect in addressing me.
“Have you forgotten who you are fucking talking to now, Elio? Who is running this family?” I hissed.
There was a pause. “Technically the lawyers still need you to sign Diego’s will and then hand over contracts so you-”
“Fucking finish that sentence,” I roared.
He paused again. “I will have everything handled for when you get back…Boss. I will arrange the funerals too.”
A stab of pain shot through my chest again. A reminder of how much I had lost in such a short space of time. The only family I had ever known. Gone in the blink of an eye.
“Grazie. Keep me updated,” I ordered and hung up the phone. I huffed in frustration.
“Elio riling you up again? How are you going to work with that asshole?” Fabi scoffed as we arrived outside Lorenzo’s entrance.
“I don’t trust the man one bit. But what choice do I have right now?”
Fabi nodded in agreement before opening his door. “Lorenzo is going to want blood when you tell him. Hope you are prepared for that.”
“He can join the back of the line,” I grumbled as we strode up the steps and his men let us into his house. Lorenzo was skipping down the staircase with an awkward smile to greet us. He looked unsure as to why I was suddenly showing up on his doorstep.
“Barbieri! Fabricio! What do I owe this pleasure?” he grinned. “Is Isabelle with you?” He looked over my shoulder to the door but I kept my hard gaze on him. When he saw my expression, his smile dropped.
“Don Barbieri now,” I corrected him as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “Diego died. I am now your Boss.”
Lorenzo pulled himself together quickly after the initial shock of my words and stood up straight, giving me a curt nod of respect. “My condolences for your loss, Boss. I know what it feels like to lose your papi and your leader so abruptly.”
Fabi shuffled awkwardly next to me as I moved my gaze to the doors of his living room.
“We need to talk, Lorenzo.”
He nodded confidently, but the uncertainty was evident in his eyes as he directed us into the grand space. There was a large painting hanging above the fireplace of him and Isabelle and I had to look away immediately.
“Before we talk business, I haven’t been able to get a hold of Isabelle. Now I know she must be grieving for your papi. Is she here? In the North?” he asked, leaning against the fireplace.
