Page 76 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“Do you want us to bring the car?” Filippo asked, eyeing my injured leg.

“I’ll walk,” I spat, slowly climbing up the steps to the lawn. Fuck, the walk to the house was going to test my resolve. I couldn’t let it get out that I was off my game, though.

It took me almost fifteen minutes to get back to the house, where I looked at the stairs and silently swore before lifting my foot and pushing myself to the next step. I was used to working out, but running on a treadmill or lifting had nothing on the pain and exhaustion in my thigh. The local anesthetic was wearing off, and I could feel my skin tugging against the sutures every time I bent my knee. I forced myself to go slowly, unwilling to risk pulling the sutures and delaying my ability to search for Olesya.

When I reached the top floor, I resorted to using the wall as a crutch to take some of the weight off my leg as I hobbled to my office and nearly collapsed into my leather office chair.

Stefano eyed me and walked to the sideboard, pouring a generous portion of whiskey into a tumbler and handing it to me. “Might take the edge off.”

“Thanks.” I nodded and tossed the contents back, the burn of the alcohol warring with the heat in my leg. He refilled the glass when I handed it back to him, and I gulped that serving down, too, then leaned my head back and closed my eyes, determined to get my shit together.

Diego came storming through the door, his eyes wide. “They haven’t found shit.”

“I’m not surprised,” I answered, running my hand down my face and resting my elbows on the desk. I stared at the surface, where I could still see fingerprints where Olesya had gripped the edge as I fucked her ass. Stabbing pain lanced my chest, and I struggled to breathe.

Not now.

I couldn’t give in to the panic. My wife needed me. I repeated it in my head until drawing air into my lungs got easier. My men were staring at me when I looked up again, concern furrowing their brows.

“What happened?” I asked.

“They took out the guards at the gate,” Diego explained, his fingers flexing in agitation. “We found them gagged and zip-tied in the bushes.”

“And everybody else?” there were at least fifteen Neretti men on site at all times, rotating shifts around the clock.

“Most of us were asleep,” Filippo supplied, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. I knew they blamed themselves to a degree, even though they weren’t on duty. “The patrol was at the back of the property and said he didn’t hear anything until the call came through.”

“Somebody looped the feed from the security cameras,” Stefano added. “The boys in the security office didn’t notice the switch, but they found it on playback.”

“Fuck,” I swore. I was hoping for something more. “How many men did they have?”

My men looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Just Yuri?” I slammed my fist against the table, my face heating in anger. “It only took one fucking Russian to incapacitate all of our security measures?”

Diego ran his hand through his hair. “I was just with her in the garden. She’d gone out alone, and Tommaso texted me, so I made sure she got back to the house safely. I should’ve stayed with her. If I’d been there, I could have stopped him.”

“Or you might be dead right now,” I deadpanned. “There’s a reason they call him Sandman—Drema. Adrik and Yuri won’t harm Olesya—that much, I’m sure of. Yuri thought he was rescuing his sister. He was pissed when she told him not to kill me.”

Stefano chuckled. “I would have liked to see the look on Drema’s face when she said that.”

“He still fucking shot me,” I reminded him. The smile fell from his face. “Fucking smirked at me when he pulled the trigger, too. I’d like to repay him for it.”

“Where do you think they took her?” Diego asked.

I considered their options for a moment. “If they’re smart, they’ll take her to the penthouse. Their security is so tight it’s nearly impenetrable.”

Diego grunted. “So we find a hole in their security and go get her back.”

“I appreciate your zeal, but the Zolotovs won’t make it so easy.” I sighed, rubbing my temples where my head was throbbing. “They have so many fucking properties in the city. They could keep her in any of them. Hell. They have dozens of brothels alone.”

“What is going on?” my father asked, entering like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world. I had notified his men of the situation over an hour ago. Given his damp hair and new suit, it looked like he’d showered in the interim.

“My wife was kidnapped,” I growled, pushing myself up from my chair. Heat lanced through my thigh, but I clenched my jaw and endured the pain in silence.

My father’s expression barely changed when he exclaimed, “What? Impossible! How?”

“Yuri breached security and took her.” I curled my fingers into a fist as he rounded my desk and looked out the window.

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