Page 51 of Devil Mine

“If you forced me to marry someone?”

“Yes,” I grit out.

“The moon, probably.”

“How about I tell Fabian to put you on the table next once he’s done with Leone?”

“You know, if you’re going to start cracking jokes out of the blue after almost thirty years of being humorless, you really need to learn to modulate your tone a bit. That morbid delivery of yours makes it sound like you’re being serious.”

The silence stretches when I don’t answer.

She laughs uneasily in response.

“I see now that you’re not in the mood for laughter when it comes to her,” she says nervously. “Noted.” Her voice turns thoughtful. “I didn’t realize this was about more than just hurt pride.”

“I want what belongs to me back.”

“You wantherback.”

There’s no need for delineation in my eyes. Tess is mine, nothing more, nothing less. “Yes.”

“Then let’s get her back,” she says determinedly. “I don’t know her so it’s hard for me to guess where she’d go.” She pauses before adding. “But if I needed help, I’d go to you.”

I’m not surprised that Valentina would choose to come to me for help. I meant what I said to Tess — I always protect what’s mine.

The answer is so obvious all of a sudden, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.

Actually, I do. It’s because I can’t think clearly when it comes to my fiancée.

“Does Tess have a brother?” Valentina questions, unknowingly echoing what I’ve just figured out.

“Yes, she does.” Turning around, I see Joaquín walking back up the street towards me. “You’re a genius, Vale. I have to go. Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

“No promises.”

I’m putting my phone away in my jacket pocket when Joaquín comes level with me. “Put a full time falcon on Tess’s brother. He’s somewhere in Switzerland. She’ll go to him at some point.”

“You got it,” he assures me. Joaquín is a couple years younger than me but has quickly climbed the ranks to become an invaluable part of my core team. It’s not easy to get noticed, especially by me, but he’s smart, fast, and strategic, all skills I rely on to survive.

“What do you have for me?”

“Caroline Mason,” he answers.

I frown. “Who?”

“We showed Tess’s picture around and a bakery owner two streets away recognized her as being Caroline Mason, a remote worker from London.”

I’m already halfway to the car to go interview this bakery owner myself when he stops me.

“That’s not all.” I turn around. “The owner also told me she has an apartment she rents out by the week. Guess who the most recent tenant was?”

A delighted smile pulls at my lips. “Tess.”

I don’t like thinking of her by any other name but her own.

“Bingo. Apparently she abruptly moved out a couple hours ago. The owner says she came in carrying a suitcase and a backpack, paid for the last week in full and then ran out.”

“Credit card?”

---