Page 4 of His

“Before I leave though, I need to speak with Marco. I won’t step foot out of this station until I do.”

Rizzo nodded, seeming to understand that my demands were not to be ignored. I could tell that he knew of my reputation, and although I was asking something a bit out of the ordinary, he was trying to figure out what was the right path. He cleared his throat.

“Follow me,” he said, leading me through another set of corridors until we reached a small, dimly lit room. Inside, Marco sat at a plain metal table, his hands cuffed in front of him. Helooked tired and miserable, and to be honest, I didn’t blame him. I’d feel the same way if I were him.

“Five minutes,” Rizzo said before stepping outside, closing the door behind him.

Marco looked up, his eyes weary but filled with a glimmer of hope.

“Massimo,” he said, his voice strained.

“Marco,” I replied, taking a seat across from him. “I’m going to get you out of this. But for now, you need to hang tight. I will have men on you the whole time. They will protect you and make sure you’re safe.”

Marco nodded, his expression one of gratitude mixed with concern. “Thank you, Massimo. Did you talk to Sofia? I don’t want her caught up in this mess.”

“I did. I sent her home for the time being, but I’ll make sure she’s safe. You can trust me,” I replied, and he cocked his head, meeting my gaze directly.

He was one of the few men that ever dared to do that, and I respected him all the more for it.

Marco leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “Listen, I need you to look out for her, really look out for her. I’m not asking you as a don, or a kingpin, but as my best friend. Make sure none of this touches her. Keep her safe.”

“You have my word, Marco. I’ll do everything I can to protect her,” I vowed.

“I trust you, Massimo,” he replied, nodding curtly.

I clasped his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Marco. I promise. Stay strong. Keep an eye out for my men. You’ll recognize a few of them. Stick with them and you’ll stay safe too.”

“I will,” he smiled softly, and someone knocked on the door, signaling that my five minutes were up. With a sigh, I stood up, meeting Marco’s anxious gaze.

“I’ll figure out what’s going on. I don’t know if someone is targeting me through you, or whatever the fuck this is, but I’m going to find out,” I said quietly, and he nodded.

“I know you will,” Marco responded.

As I exited the room, my mind was already racing with what I needed to do next. First things first, I needed to uncover who was behind this setup, because that’s what this probably was, and quickly. But right now, I needed to speak with Enzo Santini, an old contact of mine who specialized in finding information. He was good at his job, and it didn’t matter what kind of firewall or edge of the dark web he had to crawl to; he always came through with what I needed when I needed it.

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I dialed his number. I’d worked with him a good many times through the years and I’d considered putting him on the payroll permanently, but he was a solo kind of guy. He liked being his own boss, although I think I just hadn’t offered him enough money yet.

Everyone had a price. You just had to be good at finding it and I excelled at that. I’d get him eventually.

“It’s Massimo,” I said as soon as he picked up. “I need you to dig into everything you can find on Marco De Luca’s case. Anonymous tips, financial records, anything that looks out of place. And I need it yesterday. I’ll pay double for you to putaside whatever you’re working on, and I’ll even throw in a case of Monster.”

“You know me well, Massimo. Consider it done,” the investigator replied without hesitation. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”

“Good. I’ll be looking forward to your call,” I said, and I hung up the phone as I strode down the streets toward my best friend’s place where Sofia De Luca should be waiting for me.

My cock hardened at the thought, even though it shouldn’t.

I needed to figure out what to do with her next.

CHAPTER 3

Sofia

As I walked down the streets of Florence toward my apartment, my worry slowly morphed into rage as I thought about my dad and what happened this morning. He had to have done what they accused him of, because if they didn’t have enough evidence, they wouldn’t have arrested him. So there had to be something there, right?

How dare he do what he did!

My father was always so careful and meticulous, always preaching about honesty and integrity. How could he have slipped up so badly? The anger bubbled inside me like a boiling pot threatening to overflow, and I couldn’t put the lid back on.

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