Owned by the mafia boss

ALESSIO

Me: I’m here.

Me: Where are you?

I glowered at the screen, waiting for a reply that seemed unlikely to come. “Pick up the goddamned phone.”

Michael hung his coat and combed his wavy hair. “They’re shopping. Serena called a while ago. Probably elbow-deep in a Victoria’s Secret sale.”

“She has enough clothes to fill a Salvation Army.” I’d boxed her wardrobe, which could’ve fitted the neighborhood’s women and still have more to spare. “Did they say when they’d be done?”Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

Michael grinned. “Expect her back at eight.”

Great.

He didn’t seem to mind a reprieve, but I wanted my fiancée. We barely had time together before the wedding. I was busy making sure Nico’s alliance didn’t fall apart in the first week. Babysitting was supposed to keep her occupied, but all it did was widen the gulf between us.

It was a mistake.

Lately, I’d made a lot of those.

Sighing, I followed Michael through a room that normally was a disaster. Toys scattered everywhere. Pillows on the floor. Total chaos. He had maids, but the children were like tornados. They blew through rooms and wreaked havoc. Not today. My fiancée must’ve run the vacuum and put everything in order.

“The place looks good.”

“Yeah. I have Mia to thank for that.”

Out of my captains, I was closest to Michael. He was as pleasant as a wiseguy could be, and he handled disputes among his soldiers quickly. His infectious grin and easygoing charm put everybody at ease, which lent well to his job at Sanctum. The girls liked him. They liked him a little too much. That’s how he ended up with a baby. He was essential for keeping the working girls happy at our very underground club, but that didn’t mean I could let this fly.

I grabbed his bicep, stopping him from walking into the kitchen. “Michael, I didn’t send her here to clean your fucking house. You will not treat Mia like a maid. She watches the kids. That’s it.”

“I didn’t ask her for anything. She’s a nice girl.” Michael slid out of my grip and yanked open the fridge, his smile faltering. “Shit. She made me a casserole, too.”

Where was my casserole?

Bitterness curled my tongue as I sank into his couch. Michael had a wife. Serena could pick up a goddamned apron instead of them using Mia.

“You’re a lucky man, Alessio.”

I clawed the arm of his sofa. “Thank you.”

“It’s only been a few days, but she’s been such a huge help. Having her around makes me realize-” He broke off, his brows pinched together. “Never mind.”

“Go ahead.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Mike, get it off your chest.”

He stared out the orange-tinted windows as sunset blanketed the city in gold. “I fucked up, marrying Serena. She was the mother of my son. I thought I was doing right by her.”

I’d never forget how hard his mom cried at their shotgun wedding. “Grass is always greener, buddy.”

“That’s oversimplifying.”

“What will you do? Divorce her?”

“No. I’m afraid of losing custody.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I have a record,” he reminded me with a growl. “There’s no guarantee she won’t win full custody, and that can’t happen. I won’t put them in that position. She has serious issues.”

“Like what?”

He rubbed the round scar on his neck as though it pained him. “A drug problem.”

That didn’t surprise me. “Coke?”

“Heroin. I weaned her off dope, but recently caught her with prescription pills.”

“You leave her alone with the kids?”

“Fuck no. My mother comes over three times a week. Between her and my in-laws, she’s never by herself.”

Except she was with my fiancée, who had no clue about Serena’s drug problems.

“Jesus, Michael. You should’ve said something.”

“What’s there to say? My wife’s a train-wreck. If I didn’t have two children, I would’ve kicked her to the curb a while ago.”

“How about a fucking warning?” I jumped off the couch, my senses blazing. “Where the hell are they?”

“Still shopping.” Michael flipped open his phone, opening a geo-tracking app. “See? They’re at Macy’s.”

I enlarged the image. “That’s the parking lot. How long have they been there?”

“I don’t know.”

My pulse galloped as I checked my cell. Mia’s locator dot blinked in the same spot. “Why aren’t they moving?”

“Maybe they just finished.”

I called Mia. It went to voicemail. I stabbed her name again-same thing. My palm became clammy, as though it’d been doused in ice water.

“Mike, she knows not to ignore my calls.”

His brows furrowed as he phoned his wife. The fatigue vanished from his face when Serena’s nasal voice chimed through the speaker in a prerecorded message.

“I’m going.”

I snagged my coat. I was out the door and in the BMW before Michael stumbled outside.

“Wait!”

He grabbed the passenger’s side door a second before I floored the gas. Every instinct screamed for me to hurry.

Something was wrong.

THEY DIDN’T MOVE.

During that excruciating fifteen-minute drive, Mia’s and Serena’s dots never budged. I glanced at my screen, hoping it would light up with an apology followed by an explanation, but nothing happened. Her last communication with me was over an hour ago.

Michael’s suggestions for the girls’ continued silence filled me with a blistering rage. I could smell the incoming disaster like ozone before a lightning storm. The closer we got to their geolocation, the more I believed my future was about to change. Whatever I found inside would rip out my insides.

Just like Carmela.

“She’s fine,” Michael repeated with the same manic frequency. “They’re both fine.”

I could’ve smashed his skull into the console. “They’re not fine, you idiot. They haven’t moved in a fucking half hour!”

“My kids are in there,” he snarled. “Stop with the negative bullshit.”

Like that would diminish what I was about to find.

I pulled into Macy’s parking lot, searching for the van.

Michael tapped the windshield. “There.”

The Subaru was parked where trees cast the vehicle in shadow. Tires squealed as I slammed the brakes. Michael flew out and sprinted. I followed him, my stomach sinking as I took in the utter stillness of the scene.

“Serena!” Michael pressed his head to the window and bellowed a gut-punching sound. “Serena, open the door!”

I looked into the darkened glass, bracing for Mia’s corpse sprawled on the floor. Michael’s two children thrashed in their car seats, crying. Serena was motionless, her caramel-streaked hair spilling over a bone-white face.

“Where the fuck is Mia?”

“Alessio, I-I think she’s dying.”

I seized the tire iron from my trunk and shoved Michael aside. Then I smashed the passenger’s side window. My gaze flicked over a comatose Serena. I climbed inside. In the back, the children screamed. Matteo and Mariette struggled in their seats. The boy’s cheeks swam in snot. I touched his ice-cold legs. He’d kicked off his shoe.

“Your kids are fine.” I yanked the side door open. “Mia! Where are you?”

I searched the backseat, stumbling over her purse. Her wallet and keys packed the black leather bag. The relief at not seeing a body disappeared.

“Where is she?”

Michael choked with a sob as he tore his crying son from his constraints. “He’s freezing. What the fuck happened?”

“Serena.” I leaped to the front and grasped Serena’s pale arm. Her lips pursed as I squeezed her jaw. My fingers sank into her neck, where a slow heartbeat pulsed. Then I spotted a needle on the floor and rubber tubing. “Wake up, you junkie bitch!”

I slapped her. She didn’t move.

“Mike, do you have any Narcan?”

“No, I don’t have any-”

“This bitch is dying, and I have no idea where Mia is. We need Narcan.”

Michael clutched his screaming daughter to his chest. He was barely holding it together,

I grabbed my phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“What’s your emergency?”

“Overdose. Probably heroin. Female. Mid-twenties. Macy’s parking lot. We’re in the white Subaru.”

Maybe Mia went for help-maybe-

Light beamed under Serena’s foot, and I lunged for the cell winking with a text. Mia’s phone. It stole the air from my lungs. She wouldn’t have left her purse and her phone. Somebody forced her to leave.

How? Why?

I hung up, cutting off the responder’s questions as the cold wrapped my heart.