Page 242 of Merciless Desires

“Look at your daughter,” I said with a nod in Marcella’s direction.

Her papà slowly shifted his gaze from me to her, and his miserable frown only deepened.

“Whatever you will say next will have a direct impact on the rest of her life, so I would choose wisely.”

“It’s not that,” he began, and I slowly peeled my glance from Marcella to look at him. “I, uh, received this… It was in my backyard. Anna…Annabella found it.”

With shaky hands, Moretti passed me a white envelope stained red on the bottom right corner.

Rage poured through me as I peered into the envelope and found a smoky gray eye staring back at me.

“When did Annabella find this?” I demanded, stuffing the fucking eyeball in an envelope into my suit jacket pocket. “Is she alright?” I asked the question I knew Marcella would need to know when I told her this.

If I told her this.

She would be gone if she knew her sister had found a fucking body part in their backyard.

“This morning.” Moretti sucked in a breath. “It wasn’t in the envelope. It was…fresh. Still warm.”

“Is she alright?”

What was wrong with this man? He had sold his eldest daughter to cover the rising cost of his wife’s medical care that had spiraled out of control, and he was brushing off the fact that his youngest had found a fucking warm eyeball? What about the middle girl? Had he simply forgotten she existed?

Moretti nodded. “She’ll be fine. I told her it was fake.”

That wasn’t an answer I was willing to accept, and I knew it sure as hell wasn’t going to be enough for Marcella.

I would have considered letting her go home until we were married if not for this. I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince her that she was safer here without raising more concern for her family.

Because now I was concerned about her family. Shit was about to change in that home.

“I need to speak with Marcella.”

“No,” I growled, and Moretti’s eyes widened. “You will not upset her. You’ve done enough. Find my father. I will speak to Marcella.”

He nodded, and thankfully he didn’t challenge me. He drained his glass of amber liquid, and I watched him leave before I crossed the space toward Marcella.

But she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t with the capo wives. She wasn’t in the foyer. Or the den. Or the kitchen, dining room…anywhere.

“Cazzo,” I hissed.

I needed to stay calm. There was no way Dominov’s men could infiltrate this party. She couldn’t have gotten far. There were always eyes on her.

I slipped down the hall past the den and checked the door to the guest bedroom. It was still locked. So was the door to the bathroom, which was not normally. I knocked on the door and leaned in, waiting to hear the voice I was certain was behind the black wood.

“Just a minute!” Marcella called.

I knocked again. I heard her sigh, but that wasn't good enough. I kept knocking, and when she didn’t open the door fast enough, I finally spoke.

“Amorina.” The nickname I had given her when I first saw her was a menacing word on my tongue. A warning.

A warning she heeded by opening the door.

I shouldered into the space and slammed the door behind me, flicking the lock. Marcella took quick steps back until her back pressed to the countertop. I stalked toward her, shoving the vase of flowers aside and lifting her onto the edge of the vanity with one arm against her lower back.

Snarling, I got in her face. “I don’t give a fuck if you think I’m being an overbearing fucking asshole, but you tell me where you’re goddamn going. Do you fucking understand, Marcella?”

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