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I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I asked where Damiano is."
A pause. I can almost see Alessio running his hand through his short dark hair, something he does when he's trying to decide how much to say.
"He's here. With Enzo. They're waiting for you in Damiano's office."
"They know I'm coming?"
"They know something's fucked. And they know you're involved." Alessio lowers his voice. "What did you do, Noah?"
I don't answer that. "I'll be there in twenty."
"Make it fifteen. Enzo's in one of his moods."
Perfect. Just what I need.
I hang up and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. The list of Evelyn's requirements sits there, mocking me. The shopping will have to wait.
I pull back into traffic and head toward the Feretti mansion. My mind races through possible scenarios, angles, explanations. Taking Evelyn wasn't part of any plan. It was impulsive. Dangerous. Stupid.
But I'd do it again.
The gates of the Feretti estate loom ahead, imposing wrought iron. The guard recognizes me immediately and waves me through. I park in my usual spot and take a moment to collect myself.
This isn't going to be pretty.
I straighten my jacket and head inside, nodding at the staff as I pass. My footsteps echo on the marble floors as I make my way to Damiano's office. No point in delaying the inevitable.
Alessio stands outside the double doors. His expression is grim.
"They know about the girl," he says.
"How much?"
"Enough." He studies my face. "This isn't like you, Noah. Taking her without orders."
"How do they know?" I ask.
"Word is that Ivan said he sent some men to pick her up and they ended up dead. Damiano knew that you were watching her, Noah.
I don't respond to that either. Instead I push past him and open the door.
Damiano sits behind his massive desk, fingers steepled in front of him. Enzo leans against the window, arms crossed. Both men look up as I enter.
"Ilfantasmafinally graces us with his presence," Enzo drawls, his eyes dark with anger.
Damiano says nothing, just watches me with that calculating gaze of his. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken accusations.
I close the door behind me.
Time to come clean.
"Sit," Damiano says, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
I remain standing for a beat—just long enough to make it clear I'm choosing to comply, not being ordered—then take the seat. My face gives nothing away as I settle into the leather chair.
"So…" Enzo pushes off from the window, circling behind me like a shark. "The violinist. What was her name again? EvelynAnderson?" His voice drips with mockery. "Didn't realize you were such a music lover, Noah. Though I guess everyone needs a hobby."
I keep my eyes on Damiano, ignoring Enzo's bait.