Page 2 of Lies like Rubies, Part Two (Savage Jewels)

I didn’t understand why Sergio was doing this. Sure, she was damaged goods, ruined in the eyes of the community, but she had a four-year-old. She’d never sign over her rights, never marry the man, not willingly.

Oh.

This was about breaking her down until she did.

“We need to find her.” With one final look at my clinic, I closed the door to the service stairwell and followed Lorenzo down the stairs. “Whatever it takes.”

As if on cue, my phone rang.

My sister.

“Caro?”

“Oh my goodness, Nico, I heard about your clinic!”

As if I gave a flying fuck about the clinic when Sergio was free to ravage the love of my goddamned life.

“Yeah,” I answered as a steady stream of firemen and police passed Lorenzo and me. A fire so controlled it only damaged one floor? Yeah, fucking arson.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Sofia. I need Sofia.Jesus, I’d give anything in the entire world to see that woman and her daughter safe and free. “We’re closed on Sundays. Nobody was hurt.”

“Our parents would like you to join us for dinner tonight.” I stopped, and Lorenzo looked up at me with surprise from where he stood almost a flight below me.

“Caro, you know Sofia’s missing,” I snapped at her,annoyed that my family would expect me to perform social calls, now of all times.

“You’re a doctor,” she snapped back. “What possible use could you be in the effort to find her?”

Her words blew through me like a hurricane.Fucking nothing.In Sofia’s world, ruled by strength and violence, I had very little to offer.

“I’ll come to dinner,” I said, defeated.

“This is affecting the whole family, Nico.”

“I wanted Sofia to be family!”

Lorenzo’s eyes shot to mine as I took a shuddering breath and resumed my slow descent to the ground floor.

“Come to dinner, baby brother,” Caro repeated, her voice softening. “Eight o’clock.”

We were meeting at the Russo’s at six for a strategy session and to check on Lizzie.

“Fine.”

I hung up the phone.

“Does Sofia know how you feel?” Lorenzo asked, sympathy softening his features.

I scoffed. As if I’d had the balls to tell her.

“Nico!”my mother cried, welcoming me with open arms.

“Hi, Mom.” My parents liked to pretend we weren’t Italian, fresher off the boat than the five families that ruled Yorkfield with iron fists, but just as bloodstained. My father made his bones back in the old country, then immigrated here and continued to work with the mob until one day, he wanted to pretend he never had.

“You’ve looked better,” she said, concern radiating from her plump frame. “Are you okay?”

No, Mom. I’m not sleeping. I’m not eating. I’m so fucking worried about Sofia Russo that I might go out of my mind.

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