Page 129 of Ivory Oath

But when the door to the stairwell opens at exactly seven o’clock, it’s not Viviana walking towards me.

Raoul is nearly unreadable—he probably is to everyone else on the roof—but I know him. His shoulders are tense and his eyes dart nervously from right to left. He’d rather be anywhere else.

He sits down in front of Viviana’s drink. “Is this for me?”

“Only if you want a mocktail. Where is Viviana?”

He examines the drink for a second before tossing it back. He grimaces. “Too sweet.”

“Because it wasn’t for you,” I growl. “Where is Viviana?”

The plan was for Raoul to escort Viviana to the rooftop and then find a spot closer to the ship to make sure the delivery went off without a hitch. If he’s here, it means something went wrong.

“At home. She told me to tell you… Fuck me… ‘Something came up.’”

I close my hand around my drink tight enough that the glass is in danger of shattering. Viviana hasn’t left the house in a week. The only thing on her schedule was an appointment with Dr. Rossi, which I know went well because Dr. Rossi texted me, per my orders, as soon as Viviana left his office. She’s pregnant and the baby is healthy. She should be thrilled. We should be celebrating.

“What came up?”

Raoul sighs. “If I had to guess, she’s pissed you didn’t make it to the appointment.”

I fling my arms wide. “I’ve been a little fucking busy.”

He nods in agreement and… there it is. I’ve been busy keeping the Bratva running and making sure six years’ worth of work didn’t go down the drain, and Viviana is mad I missed one appointment.

I’m barely sleeping to make sure she and Dante are safe, but she’s going to stand me up because I couldn’t escort her to the doctor’s office one goddamn time.

“Fucking pregnancy hormones,” I grumble. I tip back the rest of my drink and start towards the exit. “If you want to take over the watch, I can go drag my wife out of bed and?—”

“I think it’ll turn out for the best. Viviana wouldn’t want to be here for this next part.”

Raoul meets my eyes for only a second before he looks away. He wasn’t nervous to tell me about Viviana.

There’s something else.

I lower my voice. “What’s wrong?”

He looks past the rooftop to the harbor below. “I got a call from our contact with the Port Authority on my way into the city. Our shipment is… Fuck me, this one is worse… It’s gone.”

I whip around and squint towards the water as if I’ll be able to see cartoon burglars making their way down the gangplank with burlap sacks of my money slung over their shoulders. “Gone. As in… Fuck. You’re positive?”

“I confirmed it on my way up. The ship was intercepted. Someone cleaned it out.”

Fuck.

I turn to face him. “You know who took it.”

He sighs. “I do, yes. So do you.”

“Fucking Christos,” I snarl. “How?”

Almost no one knew about this plan. I didn’t even tell Viviana more than the broad strokes of it. We kept it tight so this wouldn’t happen.

“I have a lead,” he admits. “I can follow up on my own if you’d rather deal with Viviana.”

I shake my head. “Viviana isn’t going anywhere. I want to meet the dead man who double-crossed me.”

A little bloodshed usually clears my head, but each time my fist connects with the man’s shattered jaw, I see Viviana. I see Dante. I see the last weeks of my life flutter away like a tearaway calendar in a movie montage.

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