Page 116 of Not Mine to Keep

Armani twisted around, struggling with the uniforms holding him back, peering at the traitor. “You’re dead, you hear me. You’re dead. You won’t survive a day behind bars,” he barked out to Marcello.

A rush of adrenaline shot through me as I watched the two try to go at each other only to be pulled farther apart.

“I’ll get you out of this,” were Armani’s last words to me before he was nudged inside a different vehicle than Marcello.

I gave him a little nod as if I truly gave a shit about what he’d said, then he nodded back and disappeared behind the door.

Once I was inside the back of a different SUV alongside my father-in-law, the Suit joined us in the front seat, then twisted around to look at us. “We’ll get you uncuffed the second you’re out of your father’s sight at the office. I’m sorry about the cuffs.”

“What was really on that thumb drive?” my father-in-law asked him.

The Suit smirked. “The first ten chapters of a book I’ve been writing.” He faced forward as I spied Gabriel being pushed inside another SUV.

“Are you sure this will all work out?” I closed my eyes, my mind racing. I did my best to keep myself together, knowing this wasn’t truly over yet, not until Alessandro was safe and Rocco was behind bars or dead.

But this piece of my life—this disaster—was it finally over?

The Suit looked at me again. “Let’s just say you’re lucky to have a family like the Costas in your corner.”

“And we’ll get your husband back,” my father-in-law said in a low voice. “I’m not losing another child, that much I can promise you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Calliope

Six Days Later

I stared in a daze at the “30” on the vanilla-frosted cake. “Cake?”Cake? Really?My eyes sealed shut as I revisited the last six days since I’d been paraded through the FBI’s New York field office for the purpose of Armani and the others believing I was in danger of being detained for life.

My father-in-law and I were discreetly let go after Armani was processed, and negotiations between Armani and AISE were underway now that Armani was back in Italy.

The Costas had been cleared of any involvement, of course. Gabriel and Leo were still behind bars for the sake of appearances for the time being. And Marcello never made it to Italy, or even to the next morning.

All that mattered to me right now, though, was that my husband was still missing. Seven days without him. And day by day, I was slowly losing it.

“Callie.” My aunt murmured my name, and I opened my eyes. She swapped a sad look with my mother-in-law. I was seconds awayfrom taking the cake from the counter and throwing it against the bay window in the kitchen, hating the sun shining down over the water, making it sparkle. Hating everything because my husband was gone. So screw cake and sunshine.

My aunt rounded the kitchen island, reading me well enough to know I was having another breakdown. I’d lost count of how many times I’d broken down that week.

Javier had brought my aunt to stay with us only after Armani and his main guys were no longer in the US and were with Italian police.

Izzy and her father had spent all week focusing on the search for Alessandro, contacting everyone they knew for help in locating him. My only contribution had been to find a Romanian history expert who knew all about the old tunnels, and he’d offered up possible exit points as to where Rocco and Alessandro may have escaped.

With the historian’s help, The League managed to track the exact location where the video had been taken in the woods near one of the tunnels’ exits. Professional K9 trackers were brought in and sniffed out the spot, finding Alessandro’s blood there.

My aunt hugged me, but my arms remained limp at my sides as she whispered, “I’m so sorry. I thought you could use a distraction after all you went through this week. It’s your birthday, after all.”

It had been nice having her there, but between her and my mother-in-law channeling their fears and nervous energy by cooking nonstop—and force-feeding Javier and his men—I was just done, ready to tap out.

“I probably smell,” was the unrelated brilliance that came from my mouth as I tried to unglue myself from her hold. “I’ve showered maybe twice this week.” Spent most days in the same pair of singing cherries PJs Javier’s men had packed for me. “It’s Alessandro’s birthday, too.” That was what bothered me most about the cake. “A four should be here instead.” I pointed at the candles on the cake. “He’s forty today.”

My mother-in-law quietly opened a drawer, took something out, then came back over. She placed a “4” and “0” next to the “30.” “For when he’s back. We’ll wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized to her. “The hell you’re going through and yet staying so strong somehow, and I’m a mess and can’t keep it together. I just need a minute alone.” I hurried for the hallway before anyone could stop me. The second I was in Alessandro’s old room, I shut the door, threw myself on his bed, brought my nose to his pillow, and inhaled.

I’d found cologne on the dresser, so I’d sprayed it on the pillows, my pathetic attempt at pretending he was with me when I slept. I’d never heard of the brand Creed before this week. It was a different cologne than the one he kept on the vanity counter at the penthouse. There was a guy riding a horse next to the name Aventus on the label; it somehow felt perfect for Alessandro, and I’d latch on to anything “him” I could get right now.

“Mrs. Costa?” someone called out before I’d even had a chance to wedge a pillow between my legs and curl into the fetal position.

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