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“What did I say?” I asked.

Theo seemed to try to force himself to relax, but there was something going on. His smile was strained. “Nothing, gattina, but I think I’m going to have to skip the meeting. I’ll drop you off with Mom, and she’ll take you home. She’s going to be more help than I would anyway.”

I lowered my voice. “Will you tell me the truth later?”

He nodded.

Niall put the blinker on. “But first, we’ll stop for coffee.”

Theo

Watching Dahlia quickly make her way across the sidewalk and into the café, I felt my anger grow. “Do you erase your GPS?”

Niall shook his head. “Never thought to.”

I didn’t blame him. I didn’t use mine often, but I’d never deleted anything, either. We were all careful with technology. Internet history was erased automatically. Files were saved under strict passwords and extensively encrypted firewalls. Even our cells were protected, and bounced off multiple towers.

Only a few people had known Larson’s townhouse address. If they had the skill to access Niall’s GPS, that would give them plenty of time to plan their message to the cops.

And I only know one person with that ability.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked.

With no hesitation, Niall nodded.

Betrayal burned through me. “Good. We’ll drop Dahlia off and pay him a visit.”

Dahlia

After grabbing a coffee and climbing back into an explosively tense SUV, the trip to the wedding planner’s office had been silent. Theo had held my jaw tightly as he kissed me goodbye and made me promise to text, even if he may not answer.

Whatever was going on, it was Amato business, not Amaric. Even not knowing specifics, I knew what that meant. He wasn’t telling me everything, but I trusted he would eventually. I was fairly certain he would’ve in the SUV had I pushed.

I hadn’t wanted to, though.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said to Rachelle as I entered the wedding planner’s office, pushing everything else to the back of my mind.

She hugged me. “You’re not, I was early.”

I looked around the office and a pit grew in my stomach. The place lookedawful. I tried not to judge things on their appearance alone, but it was hard.

The office was beige with lime green trim. All the furniture was upholstered with a floral and stripe pattern that used the same shade of green. It looked like it was from the fifties except there was no fade to the fabric at all. If anything, it looked new, meaning it was a specific decorative choice. Photos of different weddings hung on the walls, making me wonder if they were previous clients. There was a lot of eighties feathered hair, fringe, and denim.

So. Much. Denim.

“I feel like this will be a short meeting,” Rachelle whispered, echoing my thoughts.

“Hooray, you’re here!” The planner said, coming from the back with large books. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Not a fan of the snappy attitude since I was still five minutes early.

The planner matched her décor. Not personality wise, but literally.

Her shirt was lime green beneath a pink blazer, although her skirt was covered in paisley not flowers.

She had big hair, shoulder pads, and feather earrings.

She’s found a color scheme and decade, and she’s sticking to them both.