Page 122 of Devil's Tulip

“I don’t think she did it, Michael,” Lorenzo says, voice dripping with disapproval. But he doesn’t know a damn thing.

“Shut up,” I growl as my fingers fly over my keyboard, working furiously to unscramble the security feeds that got messed with this afternoon. I need to find out what the hell went wrong.

“She couldn't have dismantled the cameras that cleanly,” Lorenzo presses. “And I doubt you ever told her the password to your laptop, so how could she have accessed it and stolen that information? Something else is at play here.”

“I said, shut the fuck up!” I explode to my feet, sweeping everything off my desk in a burst of white-hot rage. My computer, hard drives, stacks of files—all of it crash to the floor in a cacophony of destruction that does nothing to quiet the storm inside me. “Get out of here, Lorenzo.”

He doesn’t flinch. Just levels me with that infuriatingly calm look. “You need to pull yourself together.” Judgment laces every word as he turns and walks out, leaving me standing in the wreckage of my temper.

Once the door clicks shut behind him, I sink back into my chair, pressing my palms hard against my skull as if I could physically extract the chaos of my thoughts. The pressure builds behind my eyes, threatening to split my head in two.

What the fuck am I supposed to believe?

I know what the facts are. I know what my gut is screaming at me. And I know what the evidence that fucking snake Aldo presented during thecommissione’smeeting tonight suggests.

The problem: All three things fucking contradict each other, tearing me apart from the inside out.

Deep down, I know she could never cheat on me. But a tiny voice in my head whispers—how sure can you be?What loyalty does she owe you, after all?No matter how I feel, ours is just a marriage of convenience. Hell, I lied to her that she was in danger to get her to marry me.

There’s absolutely no guarantee she’s grown to develop feelings for me the way I?—

I cut that thought off, slamming my fist onto my desk. It doesn’t fucking matter.

What does matter is the truth. Nothing but the raw, unadulterated truth.

I don’t trust Aldo one bit, but the fact that he tossed those photos in front of thecommissioneand waved a flash drive with sensitive mafia business that only my brothers and I should know—all while laying the blame at my wife’s beautiful feet—means I can’t just sit back and do nothing.

Because of the security breach, my men are swarming the premises, and they’ll know if Gianna gets punished or not. If I leave her comfortably in her room while I try to find out the truth, word will spread that I’m weak for her. And that won’t do at all. I worked too goddamn hard building my reputation to let it all crumble over this.

With a heavy sigh, I take out my phone and swipe through the camera feed to the room where she’s being held. She’s pacing mindlessly, her legs jittering with nervous energy. I zoom in on the feed, my eyes narrowing at the little bruise forming at the corner of her mouth. I was so out of it earlier, I didn’t even notice it.

Where the fuck did she get that?

A feeling of foreboding settles at the base of my spine, but I try to shake it off as I take out the spare laptop in my desk drawer and turn it on. Since all my devices are synced, it’s easy to pick up where I left off on my destroyed computer.

Time blurs as I work, the lines of code swimming before my eyes. After what feels like hours, I finally locate the beginning of the scrambled thread. Just as I start deciphering the code to unravel this mess, a sharp knock interrupts my concentration.

“Fuck off, Lorenzo.”

But the door creaks open anyway, and he pokes his head in. “Someone is here to see you.”

I glare, about to rip into him, when he steps aside—revealing a dirtied, disheveled, and shivering Gracie.

I’m on my feet before I fully register it, already moving towards the old housekeeper who’s been with me since I was a teenager. “Gracie, where the hell have you been?”

When I couldn’t find her earlier, I told myself I didn’t care. That I had bigger things to worry about. But as I take in her appearance, I finally admit to myself what I’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge—I was worried sick about her disappearance.

“You have to find Gianna,” she says urgently, her weathered hands gripping mine with surprising strength. “I think she’s in grave danger.”

My frown deepens at her incoherent rumble, but there’s no denying the raw fear blazing in her eyes. “What are you talkingabout? Gianna is fine,” I say gently, but she shakes her head so hysterically I worry she might hurt herself.

“No, she’s not! A woman came in here this afternoon to see her, and I left them alone to talk. Next thing I know, she’s in my kitchen thrusting a needle in my neck, and I’m waking up in the middle of nowhere as the sun was setting. It took me hours to get back here. We need to look for Gianna!” She ends in a desperate wail, tears streaming down her wrinkled face.

My lips part as the wheels turn rapidly in my mind.What woman?No. No, that doesn’t make sense. “Gianna is here, Gracie,” I say slowly, I found her fast asleep on her bed when I got home.” From the meeting that went so horribly wrong.

“That’s impossible,” Gracie insists. “I was taken out of the house—she must have been too. How is she here? Can I speak to her? Please? Maybe we can make sense of all this together.” Gracie rubs her palm over her temple tiredly.

I glance at Lorenzo, who’s still hovering by the door, and give him a subtle nod. He walks in swiftly and gently takes her by the shoulders. “Alright, Gracie. Let’s get you to your room. You need to get some rest; Michael will figure everything out.” His reassurances fade as the office door closes behind them.

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