11

Vincenzo's POV

I glanced at the bathroom door over and over, my thoughts circling like vultures. Each glance was a silent prayer for an answer to the question gnawing at my mind.

Raella had been gone too long. Five minutes might not seem like much, but in this line of work, it was an eternity. The moment I decided to check on her, my phone buzzed in my hand, breaking through my worry.

I answered the call and squinted through the front window into the dark, knowing Lorenzo was out there, watching. “What do you want?”

“I want to know if I should give you two some privacy,” Lorenzo said, his voice laced with amusement. “Things are heating up in there.”

I clenched my jaw. I’d forgotten Lorenzo was even on watch. When Raella had leaned over, wrapping her lips around my finger, the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just her and me, and nothing else existed.

“We’re playing our parts, Lorenzo,” I said sharply.

“Uh-huh.” His tone dripped with disbelief. “My part, apparently, is being your voyeur. You know that’s what this feels like, right? Like some creepy perv getting turned on by cake.”

I flashed a middle finger at the window, though all I saw was my own distorted reflection. “Fuck off.”

He laughed, a low rumble that grated on my nerves. “Is that an order? Because last I heard, your wifey is still under threat.”

The words pulled my focus back to the still-closed bathroom door. The humor in Lorenzo’s voice irritated me, but the tightening in my chest was all about Raella.

“Have you seen anything? Movement outside?”

“Nope. Nothing except you two getting cozy.”

I clenched my teeth. “I can handle what’s happening inside. Why don’t you keep your eyes out there and far away from Raella?”

The possessiveness in my voice startled even me. I had no claim to lay on her. But that didn’t stop the words from slipping out.

I expected Lorenzo to seize the opportunity, to needle me about it. He and Giselle had made it their mission to push this arrangement into permanence. But this time, Lorenzo said nothing.

The silence stretched on.

“Lorenzo?”

Nothing.

I pulled the phone away and stared at the screen. The call had disconnected.

The stillness around me grew heavier. When we arrived, the kitchen had been alive with clattering pans and bustling voices. Now, the air was eerily quiet. No footsteps, no faint murmurs of conversation.

I turned back to the bathroom door. It hadn’t opened.

Something was wrong.

Crossing the room in long strides, I pounded on the door. “Raella!”

No response.

I hit the door again, harder this time. The dull sound echoed in the silence. “Raella, open the door!”

The sense of wrongness pounded in my chest, matching the rhythm of my fist against the wood.

Stepping back, I slammed my shoulder into the door with all my weight. The frame cracked, the trim splintering as the door flew open.

Raella lay crumpled on the floor.

My heart stopped. For one terrible second, I thought she was dead. The image of her lifeless body seared itself into my mind. I let her walk away, and now she was gone. My promises meant nothing.

Then she moved. Barely.

Her face turned toward me, pale as a ghost. Her eyes fluttered half-open, her head lolling like she was too weak to hold it up.

“Raella.” I dropped to my knees, grabbing her icy hands in mine. “What happened?”

She blinked sluggishly, her gaze unfocused, glazed over with something unnatural. “My… phone,” she mumbled.

I shook her gently. “Can you hear me?”

Her head tilted in my direction, but it was like her body was fighting against her. Her lips parted, her voice a faint whisper. “Vincenzo.”

Her fingers twitched in mine, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

She was drugged.

My body tensed with rage. Someone had gotten to her—on my watch. They’d slipped something past her guard, past mine.

I scooped her into my arms. Her body was limp, her head heavy against my shoulder.

“We have to go,” I told her. “Now.”

Her hand fell onto her lap, brushing against her phone. Was she trying to tell me something, or was that all she could manage? I didn’t have time to figure it out. I grabbed the phone and shoved it into my pocket.

Pushing through the emergency exit, I stepped into the narrow alley behind the bakery. The air was cold and still. There should’ve been a guard stationed here, but the alley was empty.

Lorenzo’s silence gnawed at me. He should’ve called, demanded answers about the busted bathroom door. The fact he hadn’t was a bad sign.

I had to keep moving. Raella’s breaths were shallow against my neck, her body sagging more with each step. I had no idea what she’d been given or how much time we had.

“No,” I growled, more to myself than her. “You’re not dying on me.”

I stopped and carefully set her on her feet. Her legs wobbled, but I held her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Vincenzo,” she murmured. “Am I—”

“Not now,” I cut her off. “Let’s get out of here first.”

I pulled out my phone and tried Lorenzo again. No service.

A chill swept through me. This wasn’t just bad luck.

We were being targeted.

“Don’t fucking move,” a voice growled behind me.

At the same time, I felt the cold, unmistakable press of a gun against the back of my head.