Page 12 of Blood Ties

“That’s kind of a long story,” I stalled. Why did I feel like the tables were being turned on me?

“I have time,” he clipped.

If I told him what had really happened, he’d want us to call the police. That was the general population’s knee-jerk reaction. That was the last thing this situation needed because I didn’t have any idea who the key players were or who was involved.

“Sir, your daughter is safe. She’s in a highly secure building in Chicago. There was an incident that was a little nerve-racking, but we’re at my condo and I promise you she will not be harmed in any way while I’m here.”

“That. Doesn’t. Comfort. Me.”

“I underst—”

“No, you don’t. Because that ismydaughter, not yours. My daughter called me on a throwaway phone, then started crying. You get on the phone and I still don’t know who you are. I’m not the one to fuck with here. SoAlessio, I want a last name and an address of where my daughter is. Right the fuck now. Am I clear?”

That wasn’t the response of a man ready to call the cops.

Fucking hell, if I gave him my last name, there was no way a search wouldn’t show who my family was—in fact, it would probably pop up with flashing lights and sirens. Despite the fact that I wasn’t officially tied toLa Cosa Nostrathrough my brothers, the De Luca name wasn’t one that slipped easily under the radar. Especially not for a guy who knew this was a burner.

“Tick-tock, Alessio. Because I’m already on my way to the airport and if I have to track you down, you’re going to wish you hadn’t been born. And in case you have any doubts, Iwilltrack you down.”

I’d had enough of this shit. I turned my back to Nivea and quietly snapped out my reply.

“I don’t thinkyouunderstand… this ismyhouse,mytown, andI’mcalling the shots. Nivea is safe. She sure as fuck wasn’t earlier, but I can promise you she is now. If you contact the police, I can’t guarantee that will remain the case as I don’t know where they stand,” I bit out, my blood boiling.

“You are a dead man if I don’t have a name and a location,” he ground out through obviously gritted teeth. Christ, I could hear the grind of his molars over the phone.

Let him come for me. I’d faced a helluva lot worse than some rich guy in California could dish out.

“My name is Alessio De Luca.” I rattled off the address as I heard a gasp and glanced over my shoulder at Nivea. She sat there with her mouth hanging open and tears still staining her now blotchy, but still beautiful, red face.

Fuck.

“I—” he started, then paused. The steam coming off him practically singed me through the damn phone.

Other than I was pissed, and Idaredthis motherfucker to come up into my town and threaten me, I had no earthly idea why I gave him my real name. Shit, this was bad. I didn’t lose my cool like that.

But hell if this raven-haired beauty wasn’t fucking up my normally meticulous and calculated world.

Though I knew the security of our building was damn near impenetrable, this guy already talked a mad game. I needed to know who the hell he was exactly, and what he was capable of.

“Your name, so I can tell my doorman?” I asked as if I was asking about the weather.

“Matthew Bulgari, and I’ll be there tonight. So help me God, if there is a hair on my daughter’s head that is out of place, I will end you.” He ended the call instead.

“Well, your father is on his way,” I brightly announced with a tight, fake smile. Then I quickly shot off a text to Facet. He would know it was me without a doubt. Like I said, he was crazy good at shit.

Me: Who the fuck is Matthew Bulgari, father to Nivea Bulgari?

I was fully confident in my ability to kill without remorse, but this was a goddamn nightmare.

“You’re Alessio De Luca?” she whispered, eyes bugging.

I wanted to wince. Instead, I asked, “How do you know who I am?”

Anyone with access to the internet and had any interest in the mafia would know who I was. The question was more to distract her and stall.

“Why did you lie to me?” Wariness crept into her voice and her face went expressionless.

Trying to decide how much to tell her, I strummed my fingers on the countertop. My phone vibrated in my hand and I glanced down.

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