Page 60 of Pretty Plaything

That’s nonsense.

My phone vibrates, and I’m grateful for the distraction. The tracker I slipped into Santiago’s jacket is on the move. He’s going somewhere, which means today may be my lucky day.

It takes a while for the tracker to stop moving and gives me enough time to change my clothes and get my laptop ready so I can try to listen in on Santiago’s conversations.

Is he just attending a party? Or visiting one of his father’s friends? I can’t tell. The tracker is located at some old house.

It could be just a random meeting spot.

I lean back in my chair as Santiago drones on and on about things I couldn’t care less about.

“Hey, I heard your sister married Alessandro Bellini,” an unfamiliar male voice says, and I instantly sit up, listening carefully.

“Yeah,” Santiago says.

“It’s a good match. Lots of benefits, eh?”

“Yeah. And looks like Alessandro treats her well. I expected she’d call a few hours after the wedding and demand a divorce.”

They both burst into laughter.

“Alessandro needs heirs. He’s probably keeping her busy,” the guy says. “His whole family was murdered, right?”

“Everyone except for him.”

“Do you know what happened? Who did it?”

“No clue. But I bet Alessandro caught them and took care of them. I was actually very close to the area where they died on that day.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was visiting my girlfriend.”

“Which one? That blonde chick? What was her name? Vanessa?”

“Yeah, Vanessa. I had to drive in circles so my father’s men wouldn’t figure out I was visiting her.”

The guy laughs. “Why? Does your father care who you fuck?”

“Um, Vanessa is the mayor’s daughter, so yeah, he’d care.”

“Oh shit, man!”

“I broke it off with her.”

As they keep laughing, I stare at my laptop.

What are the odds that Santiago found the bug and somehow figured out who planted it? Did he say what he thought I’d want to hear?

I don’t think so.

He’d have to know things that there’s no way for him to know, and he’d have to stay calm enough to pull this off.

Santiago can do a lot of things, but I doubt he’d be able to keep his temper in check. He would’ve come to me to face me.

It’s just another dead end.

Something I don’t like.