Page 49 of Vincenzo
“What about the girl?” he asks.
“She left the club in a hurry.”
“And you let her?” he asks, the suspicion in his tone heightened at what seems like a blatant disregard for cleaning up this mess on my part. We don’t usually let witnesses go, especially when they’re associated with the problem.
“She’s not going to be an issue,” I say.
“And what makes you so sure?”
“I don’t think she’s the problem, Teo,” I say with a sigh, running my hand through my hair. The frustration of notknowing exactly what the fuck is going on with Amalia is starting to get to me. “There’s something going on between her and her uncle.”
Teo lets out another sigh, and I can practically see him running his hand through his hair the same way I did a few seconds ago.
“Alright. It’s fucking late, so come by the house tomorrow, and we’ll talk about it. We need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, then hang up.
Tossing my phone on the counter, I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair.
I have to talk to Teo in the morning, but I need to talk to Amalia and figure out what the hell is going on. She was sent here by her uncle to gain port access from us with a man he also sent to have her killed. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, and I’m beginning to think the two of them coming here had nothing to do with forming an alliance with us in the first place.
20
AMALIA
My plan came together quickly on my ride back to the hotel.
I can’t stay in NYC any longer.
When Carlos confessed my uncle called a hit on me, the reality of my situation came crashing down hard—and fast—and now with Carlos dead, if I want a shot at saving my life, I have to outsmart my uncle.
As soon as I get back to the suite, I quickly pack all my stuff, ignoring Carlos’s things, and head straight to the airport to purchase the next available flight to Miami.
When I get to my gate, I sink into the seat and release the deep breath that’s been fighting to be let out.
Get it together, Amalia. Worse shit has happened to you. You are strong, and you will get through this.
My brain has been in overdrive ever since stepping foot inside Enzo’s club. My entire life has been turned upside down, and now that I know my uncle is desperate to get rid of me, there’s no one I can trust, except…
Taking out my phone, I send a text to the only person I know I can talk to right now.
Me: I’m about to board a flight back home. Please DO NOT tell anyone. Can we meet when I get in? I need your help.
A text comes through before I even have time to close out of the message thread.
Armando: Send me your flight details. I’m picking you up myself.
Releasing a long breath, I send Armando my flight information, then board the plane a few minutes later.
Once I get in my seat, I will my mind to shut off, knowing it’s going to be a long flight, but it doesn’t work. I spend the next few hours wide awake with endless possibilities running through my mind while I try to formulate my plan.
After picking up my bags from baggage claim, I make my way to the passenger pickup. “Hey, I’m outside,” I say into my phone.
“Pulling up now,” Armando says, and we both hang up.
A few minutes later, Armando pulls up in a souped-up orange McLaren, and I struggle to not roll my eyes at the attention the car is about to bring us.
Leaning down so I can peer through the open window on the passenger side, I say, “Why are you driving your brother’s monstrosity? At least yours isn’t this obnoxious color.”
