Page 17 of Ruined Secrets

I haven’t officially met more than half of the people in the Family, but thanks to my mother, I knew who had affairs with whom, who enjoyed gambling a bit too much, and whose tongue would loosen when they had a few shots. Those may sound like trivial things, but in Cosa Nostra, information means power. And power is the main currency of all the games in the mafia world.

A silver sedan with tinted windows pulls up to the front of the stone steps. The driver gets out, opens the back door and nods at me. “Mrs. Rossi.”

“Thank you, Emilio.” I smile at the security guard and descend the stairs, heading toward the car. “To the don’s house, Renato.”

The driver looks at me with surprise, but he tucks his chin and closes the door after me. I quite enjoy the shock on people’s faces when I address them by their name. The first lesson my mother taught me was to remember every name of every person I ever meet.

I knock at the door of Isabella’s room, not getting an answer.

She called me several more times today. However, I was still too pissed with myself about last night, so I kept ignoring her. As if not talking to her would somehow erase the image of her arching her back as she masturbated in front of me, or the fact that I had to take a long, cold shower immediately after leaving her room.

I knock again. Nothing.

“Isabella?” I open the door and find her room empty.

I already checked the living room and the library on the ground floor, but she wasn’t there. Maybe she’s with Rosa. I walk down the hallway and open Rosa’s door. My daughter is sprawled on the bed on her back, watching some crap on her phone again.

“Dad?” She looks up at me. “Can I pierce my eyebrow?”

“What? No, you cannot pierce your anything. Are you watching that TikTik again?” I’m going to uninstall that shit from her phone. It’s a bad influence.

“It’s TikTok, Dad.” She giggles. “What about tattoos?”

“You’re seven. Forget about tattoos or piercings for the next fifteen years, Rosa.”

“When did you get your tats?”

Twenty years ago. But there’s no way I’m telling her that. “When I was thirty. You can get yours when you’re thirty, as well.”

“No!”

I raise my eyebrows at her, “Yes. Have you seen Isabella?”

“She was downstairs for lunch. But I haven’t seen her after that.” She shrugs and looks back at her phone.

Perfect. Where is that woman? I head down to the second floor where Damian has his rooms. His bedroom is empty, so I go to his office next.

“Where’s Isabella?” I ask from the doorway.

“I have no idea,” Damian mumbles without taking his eyes off the laptop screen. “The real estate prices went up again. We should sell some of the properties we don’t use.”

“She’s not in her room or anywhere else in the house.”

“Then she’s probably still at the don’s house. I’m selling those apartments we have downtown. They only eat away at the money since you won’t allow me to rent them out, and if we—”

“What!”

He looks up at me. “You don’t want to sell them?”

“What the fuck is she doing at the don’s? Who went with her?” Surely, she wouldn’t be so reckless as to leave without a security detail.

“I don’t know. I gave her your number and assumed you assigned a bodyguard?”

I close my eyes and curse. She went there without any protection and it’s my fault. “I didn’t take her calls.”

Damian’s eyebrows lift. “Why?”

“I’ve been avoiding her. Who took her to the Agostini mansion?”

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