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Call Massimo.
Massimo Sartori, my father’s best friend, was practically family. He had always been there for the two of us all my life, especially since my mother passed away when I was a child. He’d practically helped raise me and he’d been at my father’s sidethrough thick and thin. He was always a little stricter than my dad, but that just made him who he was.
Plus, I sort of had a little bit of a crush on him.
I closed my eyes, imagining his hazel eyes staring back at me, warm and kind and filled with mysterious powerful wisdom. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a kind of rugged charm that always made me feel at ease. His dark hair, flecked with a touch of gray, only added to his distinguished air. Somehow, he always knew exactly how to handle difficult situations and I hoped this time would be no different.
With a trembling hand, I scrolled through my phone and dialed his number. It rang twice before he picked up, his deep voice instantly calming my frayed nerves a little bit.
“Massimo,” I began, my voice shaking more than I cared for it to.
“Sofia, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, his concern breaking through in his voice right away.
“It’s Papa. He’s been arrested,” I said, my voice breaking. “The police said he’s involved in tax evasion or something like that. I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me everything,” he said softly.
I recounted the morning’s events as best as I could, my voice steadying with each word. Massimo listened intently, letting me tell my side of the story without interruption. When I was finally done, he cleared his throat.
“We need to get a lawyer and find out exactly what evidence they have against your father,” he said, when I’d finished speaking. “In the meantime, you need to listen to him. Close up the shopand go home. Donotgo anywhere else, understand? I will meet you there as soon as I can. I’ll go and handle the police.”
“Okay,” I said.
He hung up the phone and I swayed back and forth on my feet for a moment as his instructions echoed in my head. With a deep breath, I locked up the shop, put a closed sign on the front door, and headed home even though it was in the middle of the afternoon.
Maybe if I went to bed, tomorrow would be a better day.
CHAPTER 2
Massimo Sartori
Ididn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I was certainly going to find out.
Someone had targeted my best friend, Marco De Luca, and that required an answer, one I would stop at nothing to figure out. I didn’t understand how this could have happened without my knowledge, but someone was going to tell me why or heads were going to roll.
I curled my upper lip as I pushed myself off my desk, walked out the front door of my office and into the streets of Florence.
How could this have happened? How could someone step over my head and take out one of my best men?
My name carried a certain weight in this city and that should have meant something in this situation. Not just because of the business empire I inherited from my family, but because of the respect—and yes, fear—my name commanded. Marco had onlybeen tangentially involved in my world, which made this whole thing even more ridiculous.
Marco had been my best friend since I was a little boy.
We’d grown up together, him in a modest apartment above his father’s tailor shop, me in a sprawling estate that included an entire village. My family had its hands in all sorts of businesses—some legitimate, some less so. As heir to my family, I could never escape its hold, but Marco had a different kind of life. He had always been straight as an arrow except when it came to me. Sure, I’d used his shop as a front, so the charges weren’t exactly bullshit, but still. I should have known something was going down hours before it actually did.
I had no idea who could be targeting him and if they knew he was connected to me, but come hell or high water, I was going to get him out.
My mind raced as I walked briskly toward the police station, trying to piece together who could possibly have it out for my best friend. It couldn’t be anyone in the police department; they’d all known Marco for years, and I knew his taxes were always in order. That left a long list of other people that I’d pissed off over the years. I had so many enemies at this point that it would have probably been easier to list who in Italy actually liked me at this point than who didn’t.
Hold on, Marco. I’ll get you out.
As I crossed the street, I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle and a wave of unease washed over me.
Was someone watching me? I scanned the street and the sidewalk but didn’t notice anyone or anything suspicious. Still, my body remained tense. I kept going though, and the feelinggradually disappeared. I shook it off, attributing it to the shock of finding out my best friend just got arrested.
When I reached the station, I pulled open the heavy doors and stepped inside. There were several uniformed officers milling about, but I made a beeline for the front desk.
The man sitting behind it barely looked up at me. His hair was balding, and it was in a really bad combover. I could hear him chewing on a pastry. It must have been cherry filled or something because there was a smidge of it on the side of his lip that he probably didn’t even know about.