Page 110 of Dirty Mafia King
I shake my head. “Not since the night he escaped. I broke his trust by telling you…”
“His friend—a man in my goddamn employ—sent him his passport about a week ago.”
I start. “Are you going to kill him?”
“He’s too useful. Renzo may still contact him.”
Wait. “Renzo escaped rehab?”
Bastian nods.
“And he has his passport?”
“Thanks to that loyal pezzo di merda.”
I swallow hard. “Renzo’s in Rome.”
Bastian pins me with unyielding eyes. “That so?”
“We’ve spoken twice. The first time, he called from within the facility. He was concerned about my welfare. He mentioned eloping in Rome.”
“Eloping.” If Bastian was furious seconds ago, he’s borderline psychotic now.
“His plan was that we’d marry.”
“You love him?”
My lips part.
“Answer me.”
“No. We’re friends. I don’t love him that way. Besides, Renzo is deeply in love with another woman.”
“Perdio.” He shakes his head. “That little shit never learns his lesson.”
“What can I do to help?”
“We wait while my men hunt the little shit down.” He shoots a text off before rolling back in his seat. Tense and tired.
Suddenly, I’m standing. Without giving too much thought to my actions, I round the desk, then sink to my knees.
“Alessia,” he hisses, staring down at me like I’m his last supper.
I don’t know where I find the courage, but I do. “Is there nothing I can do to help?”
I place a hand on his knee, prepared to swivel his chair more toward me.
“Not right now.”
Horrified, I scramble to my feet and race for the door.
“Alessia.” It’s a command, and I stop.
“I’ll be out of the country for a few days.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “If Renzo contacts me, I’ll immediately let you know.” I turn to leave.
“That’s not what I was about to ask.”
