Page 43 of His Ruthless Obsession

"I know what I'm doing," I lie.

But I leave brunch feeling worse than before.

The elevator doors open to my floor and I dig through my purse for my keys. But that's when I realize my phone is missing.

I shove my hand through the purse but come up empty. I check the side pocket. Nothing. Frantically, I dump the contents onto the marble floor of the hallway. Lipstick, wallet, gum wrapper - no phone.

"Shit." The car. I must have left it in the car after checking my messages.

I jab the elevator button repeatedly, willing it to move faster. The doors finally slide open and I rush through the lobby, heels clicking against the polished floor. Please still be there.

Relief floods through me as I spot Angelo's black sedan still idling in the private garage. But as I approach, I notice he's standing outside the car, phone pressed to his ear. His back is turned toward me.

"Yeah, Frankie, I got it covered." Angelo's voice echoes off the concrete walls. "Boss won't suspect a thing. Those Bueti bastards won't know what hit them when-" He pauses, listening. "Mantione's guys are ready? Good. Just waiting on the signal then."

My blood runs cold. What the hell?

Angelo shifts his weight and I quickly paste on a bright smile as he turns.

"Oh thank god you're still here!" I call out, waving. "I'm such an airhead - pretty sure I left my phone in the backseat."

His face smooths into an easy grin, all traces of his previous conversation vanishing. "No problem, Miss Holliday." He ends his call and opens the rear door. "Take your time."

I lean into the car, spotting my phone wedged between the seats. My hands shake slightly as I grab it.

"Found it!" I straighten up, holding the phone aloft like a trophy. "Thanks Angelo. Have a good night!"

"You too, Miss Holliday. Stay safe."

I force myself to walk normally to the elevator, resisting the urge to run. Only when the doors close do I let out the breath I've been holding.

What the hell did I just overhear? And more importantly - who do I tell?

Once upstairs again, I pace my living room, phone clutched in my hand. After three tries, I finally manage to type out a message to Marco.

Not feeling well. Won't make it in tonight.

The response comes quickly.

Everything ok?

Just need rest.

I add a sick emoji for good measure.

My stomach churns as I think about Angelo's conversation. The Mantiones. A signal. Something about the Buetis not knowing what hit them. The implications make me dizzy.

I need to tell Nerio. The thought comes with crystal clarity, cutting through my confusion. Whatever's happening, whatever Angelo's involved in - Nerio needs to know.

I consider typing out a message to him, asking him to come, but I decide to wait. He'll be home — when did I start calling thisplace home? — later. But I don't expect him to show up as the sun sets, painting the penthouse in deep oranges and purples. I hear the private elevator whir to life, followed by the distinct sound of Nerio's footsteps.

"Little dove?" His voice carries through the apartment as he opens the door. He's gotten to where he knocks less and less.

I meet him in the entryway, wringing my hands. "We need to talk."

His expression shifts, gray eyes narrowing. "What's wrong?"

"I overheard something today. It's Angelo." The words tumble out as I relay everything I heard in the garage.

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