Page 27 of Unworthy Ties
Rocco
I instantly noticed something was amiss the moment I walked into the penthouse. The front door should have been guarded, but Marco was noticeably absent. The bathroom delivered a cacophony of splashes, grunts, and the occasional thump, as if waging war with the plumbing.
I rapped lightly on the bathroom door. “Hello? You okay in there?” I asked, wanting to confirm the occupant.
“I’m fine.” Marco’s muffled response was barely discernible.
I left it at that. I needed to find Gabriella; needed to confirm she was okay. My eyes darted around the empty living space, every instinct screaming that something was wrong. The penthouse felt too quiet, too still.
Then my eyes caught the office door. Normally, it was locked, untouchable. Not tonight. It was ajar, a thin line of light spilling out. My pulse tightened. Something wasn’t right. I moved toward it, senses on high alert, every step measured, every shadow a possible threat.
I approached the office cautiously, every muscle coiled like a spring. The door creaked slightly as I nudged it with a fingertip, just enough to peek inside without announcing my presence.
The desk was a mess—papers scattered, folders askew. Something had clearly been rifled through. My stomach dropped.
And then I noticed the chair pushed back from the desk as if someone had left in a hurry. My pulse quickened. Gabriella.
A cold knot of fear tightened in my chest. She wasn’t in the office. Not here. Not anywhere I could see.
I scanned the rest of the penthouse, every hallway, every shadow, my mind racing. The faint echo of her footsteps, or maybe the lack thereof, stung like an alarm. Something was wrong.
“Gabriella,” I called out, although in my heart I knew it was only to hear the hollow echo of my own voice. “Gabriella?”
No answer.
I walked back into my office, my eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. Papers lay scattered like fallen leaves, the chaos a portrait of desperation.
I crouched down, scanning for any document that could serve as a clue.
One document caught my eye; it contained the list of potential brides my father had assembled.
I picked it up carefully, flipping through the pages.
Names, stats, family connections—all meticulously cataloged. My stomach twisted.
When I had first looked at it, it was no different than looking at a menu, an assortment of choices laid out. Now, there was only one girl on the list I could imagine spending my life with, and that was Gabriella.
A cold spike of panic shot through me. She had seen this. The neat calculations, the lists, the way her life had been reduced to numbers and family ties—it had all been laid bare, and now nothing was the same.
I pressed my hands to my face, trying to still the storm of fear and anger that churned in my chest. Everything I’d controlled, every plan I’d kept secret, had shifted in an instant. Gabriella’s eyes, her trust, the fragile balance of what we had was all suddenly in jeopardy.
The sound of the water shut off. I heard Marco emerge from the bathroom, his presence a sudden interruption to the suffocating silence.
I slammed the folder down on the desk, the impact echoing through the office. My blood was pounding, and every instinct screamed that I needed her, now .
“Marco!” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut through the penthouse quiet. “Where is she? Where’s Gabriella? ”
The hulking man froze, eyes wide beneath his stoic exterior. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally muttered, “I… I don’t know, sir.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I demanded, my voice trembling on the edge of fury.
“The dressing on the salad she made me… I’m lactose intolerant.”
“I don’t care if she had you drink a gallon of milk; I expect you to keep an eye on her at all times!” I rubbed my temples to soothe the pounding headache that had suddenly came on. “Pull the video footage in the complex.”
“Right away, sir.”
While Marco worked on pulling the video footage, I first did the obvious: call Gabriella’s cell phone.
The phone rang, the sound echoing ominously in the silence of the penthouse.
Each ring felt longer than the last, stretching my anxiety taut like a wire ready to snap.
After the third ring, voicemail picked up, her warm voice a stark contrast to the unease pooling in my stomach.
“Fuck.” I went into FindMy to check the location of her phone, only to see the little dot blinking stubbornly on the dining table—right where she’d left it.
She was addicted to her phone. She wouldn’t have left without it.
I placed a frantic call to Felix. He answered on the last ring.
“You always call me at the worst times,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. I could hear the clinking of a glass and the sound of women’s laughter in the background.
“I don’t care if it’s a bad time,” I snapped, my voice low and urgent. “Gabriella’s gone. She’s not in the penthouse.”
Felix’s laughter cut off abruptly. “What do you mean, gone?”
“I don’t know,” I cut in, teeth gritted. “She got out.”
“Get your ass here now,” I commanded, my heart racing as I hung up before he could respond.
The minutes between my call and Felix’s arrival stretched like hours.
I paced the length of the living room, every muscle in my body coiled tight, ears tuned to the smallest sound.
Marco’s fingers tapped furiously at the keyboard, trying to pull up the security feed, but even the clicks of the keys grated on my nerves.
Then the elevator dinged. The sound was sharp, final, like a gunshot. A moment later, Felix stormed through the door, shirt half-unbuttoned, tie hanging loose, the scent of whiskey and perfume trailing in with him. His usual smirk was gone, instead replaced with a rare, stone-hard seriousness.
“What the fuck happened?” he demanded, his gaze cutting across the wreckage of the office before landing squarely on me.
I relayed what had happened, including that she had presumably found the folder of the other women that I considered marrying.
Felix’s expression darkened at the mention of the folder. “You idiot. You should have thrown that away!”
His words hit like a slap, but I didn’t flinch. My jaw clenched, heat rising in my chest. “You think I don’t fucking know that?” I shot back, my voice low and dangerous.
“Look,” Felix took a deep breath in a rare attempt to not escalate our argument further. “She probably just got upset and is walking the streets of NYC. Once Marco finds the footage, we can—”
“Got it,” Marco said. The image flickered to life on the screen, a grainy black-and-white shot of our hallway. It showed Gabriella entering the elevator and then, seconds later, it showed the elevator doors sliding shut behind her. She emerged moments later and walked out of the lobby.
I felt the blood drain from my face as the footage continued to play. She had left the building, but where had she gone?
“Pull the footage from the stores across the street,” I commanded Marco.
“Already done,” he responded.
Finally, he had done something useful today.
The screens shifted again, cycling through shaky exterior angles.
I leaned forward, every muscle tight, scanning for her.
A figure emerged on the screen, a flicker of movement that sent a jolt through my chest. Gabriella, her silhouette unmistakable, stepped briskly along the sidewalk, her head down and shoulders hunched as if under the weight of a heavy burden.
She turned down a quieter street, one the cameras barely caught, and then my heart stopped.
A dark van rolled up beside her, brakes squealing. The side door flew open, and before she could even react, two men grabbed her. She struggled, kicking, thrashing, but they dragged her inside as if she weighed nothing. The door slammed shut; the van lurching forward and disappearing off-screen.
“Fuck,” Felix muttered.
“Rewind it,” I growled, my voice low and lethal.
I leaned in closer, my heart racing as I watched the scene replay. Each frame felt like a razor blade against my skin, slicing deeper into my sanity. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
I slammed my fist against the desk, the sound echoing like gunfire in the charged atmosphere of the penthouse.
“We’ll find her,” Felix said, his tone firm yet laced with uncertainty. “But we need to keep our heads.”
“Keep our heads?” I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Before I could get another word out, Felix’s fist cracked across my jaw, snapping my head to the side. The shock of it tore through the haze of rage, leaving only raw silence in its wake.
“Get it together,” he snarled, his face inches from mine, eyes blazing. “You lose control now, she’s dead.”
I could taste the iron tang of blood in my mouth, my jaw throbbing from the impact. Felix’s words cut through the tumult raging inside me, forcing me to focus, to push aside the overwhelming surge of emotion threatening to consume me.
Breathing deeply, I straightened in my seat, meeting Felix’s intense gaze with a steely resolve. The urgency of the situation pounded in my chest, driving me forward despite the waves of fear and anger crashing against my composure.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened up, the fire in my eyes dimming to a steely resolve. “You’re right,” I conceded, my voice steady despite the throbbing ache in my jaw. “We need a plan.”
Felix nodded, his expression grave but determined. “We’ll track that van, find out where they took her.”
I clenched my fists, the image of Gabriella being dragged into the van seared into my mind. “We won’t have to look too hard. I know exactly who did it. And when we find him,” I growled, “he’ll wish they never crossed us.”
With a renewed sense of purpose, I leaned forward, my focus unwavering as I delved deeper into the footage, searching for a glimmer of hope in the shadows of despair.
The battle ahead would be fierce, the odds stacked against us, but I knew one thing for certain—we would fight.
And we would not rest until Gabriella was safe once more.
Together, we would navigate the treacherous waters ahead, drawing strength from each other in the face of adversity. And as the first rays of dawn broke through the darkness outside, a silent vow resonated within me—we would find her, no matter the cost.
And justice would be swift and unrelenting.