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“And if she dies, Dad would default on the deal he made with The Founders Society.” I scrubbed a hand across my jaw. “Who has a vested interest in The Founders Society?”
“Wellington,” he said.
“Carl wouldn’t have someone kidnap his granddaughter.”
“Look at what he did to force Aiden to join the Knights. There’s nothing the old man wouldn’t do to maintain his legacy.”
“It doesn’t add up,” I fired back. “Wellington planned every detail of our wedding down to the color of the bows on the chair backs. He didn’t have someone take Alex.”
“Think about it.” Marcello leaned into my shoulder and lowered his voice. “If Dad defaults on the deal with The Founders Society, the Founding families will cast us out. Wellington knows how to play the game. He liked Mom but never wanted to make a deal with Dad. He only arranged the marriage between you and Alex because of what her mother did to ours.”
“Anything is possible,” I agreed.
87
ALEX
I wasthankful for the meal and wine, glad The Carver hadn’t drugged me. He mostly spoke to his business associates in Italian while he studied me like a specimen under a microscope. I understood Italian, thanks to my grandfather, who had insisted I learn the language. It had come in handy over the past ten years with Luca.
From what I’d overheard, The Carver was an old friend of Arlo, someone he’d screwed over in the past. He wanted blood, but I wasn’t sure what Arlo had done to make him so angry. I could tell from the man’s rage that it cut deep.
This was personal.
After lunch, The Carver’s men left me in a private bedroom with a bathroom, where I waited for a few hours until they dragged me off the boat. I didn’t see Rhiannon again. I was still in shock about Marcello and Rhiannon. He’d never spoken about another woman, making it seem like he was a lone wolf with no interest in relationships. His job often took him worldwide, so it made sense he wouldn’t want anything tying him to Devil’s Creek.
But they had history. It gave me some hope for Marcello. Maybe the love of a good woman would remove the sadness fromhis eyes. I could see those glimmers when we were together. And after I chose Luca over him, the traces of happiness I once noted had vanished. He was back to being Lonely Boy.
We arrived at a small island that could have been anywhere. There was nothing but ocean for miles in every direction. They anchored a few yachts and jet boats closer to the beach.
As we walked inland, a tall iron fence spanned the entire beach. A dozen security guards lined the perimeter, with several men standing at the entrance. They had machine guns strapped to their backs and handguns holstered beneath their suit jackets.
How the hell was Luca and the Knights going to find me here? They had more security than a military base and, by the looks of it, even more weapons. For all I knew, there were land mines buried beneath the sand.
The Carver rushed past us, muttering a few words to the guards, then blew through the gates without a glance. Was he the owner of the island? The men holding my arms led me through the gates into a massive courtyard with even more guards.
This place was like a fortress on the sea, much like the Salvatore Estate. In some ways, it reminded me of home. The salty scent of the ocean floated through the air like perfume. I loved that smell. It reminded me of Luca and Marcello, of all my Devils.
Luca and the Knights would come for me. There was no doubt in my mind they would save the day. But would they reach me in time? The Kurtis had put me through hell and tortured me with each cut and punch. At least they didn’t force themselves on me sexually. I was thankful for that.
But what about The Carver?
What kind of name is that?
He was in his fifties and attractive for his age. The Carver reminded me of Arlo in some ways. He was refined and polished, like he thought he was better than everyone. You could tell hehad money, and judging by his boat and the island, he had tons of it.
He rushed through the courtyard with a purpose, dressed in white linen shorts, a button-down shirt, and boat shoes. His tanned skin popped against the clothing, making him seem even darker. Luca had naturally olive skin and would look just like him if he’d spent more time in the sun.
I missed Luca and Marcello. I missed the Knights. Sonny and his wisecracks and Drake and his killer dance moves. They had become my family over the past few months.
Over the last few days, I remembered more about my past with the Knights. Simple things unrelated to our steamy night in the temple. However, I wondered if my new trauma was playing tricks on me. I couldn’t rely on my thoughts and memories without someone else verifying them. Not after everything the Kurtis had put me through.
I would wake up from fever dreams on that dirty mattress in the dark room and wonder if they were real. Were my nightmares more lucid than ever? Or was it the drugs playing tricks on me?
We stepped into the foyer of a Tuscan-style mansion. The ceiling was high, the walls cream and decorated with fine art. This place was too homey to hold a secret online auction for criminals.
As we walked down a long, tiled hallway, I recognized some paintings on the walls. My fingers itched to be back in Evangeline’s studio, creating the final Many Faces of the Devil Series pieces. I had one painting left—The Devil I Love.
I’d waited years for Luca to confess his love for me. And because of that, I could never complete the final painting. I was about to add the finishing touches before my kidnapping. With my show at Tate Modern around the corner andEvangeline Franco’s twentieth-anniversary showcase right after my wedding, I had work to do.