Page 57 of Wicked Sinner

"Probably." But I make no move to leave. "Five more minutes."

"Caesar—"

"Five more minutes of this. Of pretending we're just a normal couple having breakfast in our kitchen after a night of incredible sex."

She smiles, and it's soft and genuine, the kind of smile I’ve so rarely seen from her. "Okay. Five more minutes."

We stretch those five minutes into thirty, then an hour. But eventually, reality intrudes in the form of my phone buzzing with increasingly urgent messages.

"I really do have to go," I say reluctantly, reading through the texts. "But tonight—"

“I don’t know, Caesar,” she interrupts. “I can’t make promises right now. This was wonderful. But it wasn’t real.”

“We said we wanted to try,” I remind her, and she sighs.

“Maybe. I need to think. Without you right there, reminding me of everything I shouldn’t want.”

I want to argue that’s exactly why I don’t want to leave. But I don’t. I nod, acquiescing, and we wash up and make our way back out to the waiting Ferrari.

The drive back to the city feels different somehow. Maybe it's the morning we just shared, or maybe it's the hope of more mornings like it, but something has shifted between us. When I glance over at Bridget in the passenger seat, she looks peaceful in a way I've never seen before.

It's only when we're about fifteen minutes from the penthouse that I notice the black sedan that's been behind us for the last several miles. When I take an unnecessary turn, it follows. When I slow down, it matches my speed.

My jaw clenches. Professional surveillance, the same kind I noticed after my confrontation with Konstantin and Tristan. Someone is having me followed again, and this time they're not even trying to be subtle about it.

"Everything okay?" Bridget asks, noticing my change in mood.

"Fine," I lie, not wanting to ruin what's left of our perfect morning. "Just thinking about work." It’s not entirely a lie… whoever is following me is, at least, definitely tied to my work.

I make a mental note of the sedan's license plate and pull out my phone to send a quick text to my security team. By the time we reach the penthouse, the sedan has disappeared, but I have a feeling it's not the last I'll see of it.

Someone is watching us. And my suspicions of who it is haven’t changed.

"I'll be back by seven," I tell Bridget as we ride the elevator up to our floor. "Don't leave the building without security."

"I won't,” she promises me. “Be careful.”

I blink at her, surprised. “I always am.”

"No, you're not." She swallows hard, a nervousness in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. "You're reckless and arrogant, and you think you're invincible. But you're not, Caesar. You're just a man, and men can be hurt."

The concern in her voice makes my chest ache. "I'll be careful," I promise. "I'll come home to you."

I kiss her, quickly, very aware that I couldn’t have done that before yesterday.

Something has changed between us… I just don’t know if it’s enough.

Everything in me doesn’t want to leave her, but I know she needs space.

She’s told me over and over that she’s independent, and I know she needs time alone to process all of this.

Crowding her won’t get me the result I want. It’ll do the opposite.

I focus instead on the meeting ahead of me, one that turns out to be fairly unpleasant, since it involves Isabella’s father and shipping concerns.

I know he’s angry with me over jilting his daughter, even if nothing official was ever announced, but I refuse to act as if I did something wrong.

It’s hard to concentrate as the meeting is wrapping up, knowing Bridget is at her appointment by now.

I’d like to be with her, and it frustrates me that I’m not.

As I’m leaving, my phone buzzes. It’s Tristan, agreeing to meet me while he’s at lunch. My jaw tightens, and I stride quickly to my car, fury building in my chest.

I find him at a table out on the patio, looking out at the water with a plate of shrimp scampi in front of him. He looks up as I approach, and I can see a tightness around his eyes.

"You're having me followed," I say without preamble.

Tristan looks up, his expression blank. "This again?”

“Someone professional is tailing me. You have a reason to want me gone. To threaten me or scare me off. But it’s not going to work, and Konstantin isn’t going to like it.”

"I have no idea what you're talking about.

" He takes a sip of wine. "But even if I did, can you blame me?

You've been making some very interesting choices lately, Caesar. Choices that affect all of us. If I wanted to keep an eye on you, I think Konstantin would understand. Although, it’s not me," he adds. “I have better things to do.”

"My choices are my own business."

"Are they?" Tristan leans back in his chair. "When your personal decisions threaten the stability of our entire operation, they become everyone's business."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means your little romance with the mechanic has made you look weak. You're thinking with your dick instead of your head, and it's going to get people killed. One of them is probably going to be you. Maybe her, too."

"Careful, O'Malley." My voice drops to a dangerous level. "That's my wife you're talking about."

"Your wife is a liability." Tristan's green eyes are cold. "And the fact that you can't see that proves my point."

"The only liability here is you." I lean forward. "If anything happens to Bridget—"

"You'll what? Kill me?" Tristan laughs. "Get in line, Caesar. There are a lot of people who want me dead, but most of them are smart enough to know the consequences of trying."

My phone buzzes against my chest. I ignore it at first, too focused on the man across from me. But when it buzzes again, and then a third time in rapid succession, I pull it out.

Three missed calls from my head of security. Four text messages, each more urgent than the last.

Mrs. Genovese’s security is not answering.

Tracker on SUV is in the wrong location.

Heading out now. Need advisement.

Caesar. Something is wrong.

The blood in my veins turns to ice. I'm already standing, my chair scraping against the floor, when my phone rings. It’s my new head of security, Marco’s replacement.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

“Where is she?” My heart is pounding in my chest. “How many men did she take to her appointment?”

“Four. They’re not answering. Her SUV’s GPS tracker is in the wrong location, nowhere near the doctor’s office now, as if someone moved the car. And Mrs. Genovese isn’t answering her phone.”

“Find someone who can hack into the street cameras. Parking garage cameras, anything. Look for witnesses. I need answers now.” My voice is a low, furious growl, and I’m already walking away when Tristan's voice stops me.

"Caesar."

I turn back to see him standing as well, his expression serious. "This wasn't me."

"Bullshit." My jaw clenches. “Why should I believe that? You were just telling me what a fucking liability she is.”

"Because it’s true. But I would never do this. I swear to you, on my family's name, this wasn't me." He pulls out his own phone. "Let me prove it. I'll come with you."

"Why would you—"

"Because if someone is moving against you, they're moving against all of us." His jaw is tight. "And because I don't use hurting women to get what I need done."

I stare at him for a moment, trying to read if he’s telling me the truth. Finally, I nod. "Let's go."

The drive to the penthouse is a nightmare of traffic and red lights that seem to last forever. Tristan follows in his own car, and I can see him making phone calls, mobilizing his own resources. If he’s truly trying to help, it could be useful.

My head of security and four others meet me in the parking garage as we pull in. I’m out of the car in an instant, my heart hammering in my chest.

“What do you have?” I snap.

“Nothing yet,” one of the men, Ken, speaks up. “We’ve got a hacker looking into it. Should have something within the hour.”

It doesn’t feel soon enough. I draw in a breath, struggling to remain calm. I know recklessness will only make this worse, but the thought of anything happening to Bridget makes me feel as if I’m coming out of my skin.

“It could be Slakov,” Tristan says quietly from behind me. “It’s not for certain, but it could be.”

“You think he could pull something like this off?” I turn around, eyeing Tristan. If he’s at fault, he could be trying to throw me off his trail. But it’s a possibility. Slakov has motive. And if he’s gotten allies in the time since his father died—

“Possibly.” Tristan draws in a breath. “We need to talk to Konstantin. Make a plan—”

“We need to find my wife,” I growl, and Tristan holds his hands up.

“I know. I’d feel the same if it was Simone. But charging in will do nothing. Wait for the hackers. We’ll get what backup we can. And we’ll get her back, Caesar.”

My jaw clenches. I want to believe that he’s being straight with me, but I don’t trust him. Not entirely. Not yet.

But if it was Slakov, and he has Bridget, I can’t turn down help.

We head up to the penthouse, waiting on word from the hacker.

Two restless hours pass before she sends over the footage from the street cameras, a license plate, and a blurry shot of a man in the passenger seat of an SUV.

There are two vehicles, and we get coordinates of where they’re headed—what looks like down toward the docks.

“Do you think Torrino’s behind it?” I look at Tristan. “On account of my jilting Isabella for Bridget?”

“Maybe,” Tristan allows. “The location points to that being a possibility. We need men, if so. He’ll be well-guarded and well-armed.”

I nod. “I’ll get my security together.”

“I’m coming with you,” Tristan says firmly. “I’ll get some of my men. We’ll go and get her back, Caesar. And I’ll prove to you that this wasn’t me. That whatever personal problems we have, I wouldn’t do this.”

I look at him for a long moment, and then nod. “Alright.”

Whoever has taken my wife has made a grave mistake.

And now they’re going to pay for it.