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CHAPTER22

ALESSA

Sunlight streams in through the half-drawn curtains of my bedroom, bathing everything in a warm glow. For one blissful moment, I forget all my troubles and melt into the soft pillows and silken sheets wrapped around me. I stretch slowly, savoring the tranquility of this perfect morning.

Then it hits me like a splash of ice water—the look in Natalie’s eyes when she saw the hidden casino, the silence on my phone. No text from her to say she got home alright.

No word at all.

I grab my phone from the nightstand, irrationally hoping for a message that makes it all make sense. But there’s still nothing.

The second I opened myself up, she pulled away.

But why am I surprised? This is the story of my goddamn life.

Frustration wells up in me, and I consider hurling my phone across the room just to hear something shatter. But I take a deep breath instead. Freaking out won’t solve anything.

I throw off the covers and slide out of bed. As I shrug on a silk robe, my mind starts running scenarios. What spooked her so bad last night? She’s been around far shadier characters than me without blinking—like Ricci and his thugs. And it’s not like she didn’tknowwhat I’m into—she’s gotten closer than anyone.

So what changed? What made her go from writhing around underneath me passionately one minute to running like a bat out of hell the next?

I step out onto the balcony overlooking a small private park for residents only, hoping the fresh air will clear my head. But an uneasiness still lingers, creeping up my spine. I glance down the street and see a man leaning casually against a lamppost.

It’s him. That same man again. He looks away quickly when he sees my face turned toward him. I dash inside for my phone, but by the time I get back, he’s gone.

My gut twists. I still don’t know who he is, but if he’s been staking out my building, it’s not good.

Not good at all.

Something clicks in my head. Natalie, her cool demeanor when Vince Ricci burst through my office door.

Natalie trailing me to the safe room where Sienna was hiding out.

Natalie asking about Juno’s involvement…

I hurry back inside and get dressed, choosing an outfit that will let me blend into a crowd—dark jeans, leather jacket, ball cap pulled low. The kind of thing I wore back when I was still running petty errands for the family.

And then I call my father.

“Principessa,” he greets me as always.

“Hi, Daddy. How are you?”

“I’m alright. You?”

“Well, you remember that painting we talked about a while ago? The one you helped me track down? I was wondering if you could take another look at the provenance.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, and I know he’s deciphering my coded message. Asking for a second background check on Natalie isn’t something I’d normally do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Alessa,” Daddy replies, his tone cautious, “I’d love to help, but there’s been a bit of a...situation at the gallery. A few of our paintings have lost the paperwork attached, and I’m having a hell of a time finding the information again.”

My heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat. Compromised information networks are never a good sign, especially in our line of work. Panic bubbles beneath the surface as I try to wrap my head around the implications. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

“Right now, just leave it with me. I’ll let you know when I can look into that provenance for you again.”

“Understood,” I murmur, my grip tightening around the phone. The call ends, leaving me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, my mind racing through the possibilities. If our networks have been compromised, then someone is actively working against us.