I’ve searched his office looking for evidence of any communication, but that’s one thing about Arthur Calthorpe. He’s far too intelligent to leave information about her lying around.
Each room in his house has been turned upside down, and I’m still not any closer to finding out where my beauty is hidden.
“Lance.” Arthur’s deep grumble comes from the top of the stairs, grabbing my attention. He’s dressed immaculately in a black suit and tie, with a crisp, white shirt. The combination offers a stark contrast. “I thought you had left already.”
“I just came back for the folder on the job, and I wanted to talk to Seth about checking up on the house,” I tell him. We don’t do small talk anymore, not since Giuliana. I’m fine with that; I don’t need a fake dad to care for me. He’s nothing more than a man who too
k me in when I needed it. Now, I no longer need shit from him.
“Come to my office.” He turns toward the hallway, leading me deeper into the bowels of the house. It’s dark, but I know this place like the back of my hand, so I don’t need light to lead me to the antique-filled office. I practically grew up here, but this room is one I always hated. It always felt as if I were called to the principal’s office.
When we reach the door, he shoves it open and steps inside, not waiting for me to follow. I have no choice but to enter the inner sanctum of the Tabella Della Morte.
Before he offers, I seat myself in the ornate wingback chair that sits opposite his desk. Crossing my left ankle over my right knee, I relax against the chair and watch him as he settles behind his dark oak desk.
His gaze lands on my ripped jeans that have blood splatters all over them. The crusted gore is now dark on the material, soaked through, and I’m certain he’s not happy. One thing I learned growing up around Arthur Calthorpe is that he likes things immaculate.
“I was going to send you to New York,” he starts. “But since I have Percivale already in the Big Apple, I figured I’d send you somewhere else.” He doesn’t meet my eyes when he tells me this, and I know why. He’s tried to have me killed numerous times. Since the incident with Giuliana, he’s always had me off on dangerous jobs, going after the most volatile men in the country.
Deep down, I think he would love to see my demise so he can bring his baby girl home. He’s been unsuccessful in every attempt at my life, and I think it finally weighs on him.
Perhaps he thinks I did fuck her. I never denied it when he asked me, and to be fair, if I were a father, I’d want the fucker dead as well. Sadly, I didn’t get to experience her around my cock, but I did finger her pretty cunt until she was spent. Her juices soaking my fingers. I can still smell the phantom scent of her.
It’s the only way I survive — make believe she’s still here, still mine.
“Where am I going?”
Arthur throws the folder with the information I need on the desk, sliding it toward me. When I pick it up, I flip it open, glancing at the images of my new mark. He’s dressed in a white suit with a black shirt. Strangely, he looks familiar, but I can’t place him until I flip the page and find his name staring back at me.
Sergio Ramos.
“Are you fucking serious?” I glance at him. “The asshole who’s been evading us for three years?” Straightening, I can’t help smiling. This is the man I’ve been chomping at the bit to sink my blade into, but he’s clever, making sure he stays one step ahead of us.
Arthur nods with a satisfied smile on his lips. Sergio is well-known for his dealings with the Colombian Cartel, and he’s even more infamous for importing beautiful women from Thailand, Bali, and Indonesia, getting them hooked on crack and then forcing them to work in the seedy joints he owns. Sergio is filth, and I can’t wait to watch him take his last breath.
“Contacts in San Antonio have given me intel into his movements. He’s in the city closing a deal with two international buyers. You have three days to find him, end him, and bring me his hands.”
“His hands?” I question, furrowing my brow in confusion. Yes, I’ve brought back souvenirs from my jobs before, but never parts of the mark themselves.
Arthur nods with a sadistic grin on his face. “He stole from me. I’m making a point. Ensuring anyone who tries to take from me again will lose more than just his life. He’ll be sent home in pieces.” His shrug is nonchalant as if it’s normal to want a man’s hands on your wall of trophies. But then again, this is Arthur Calthorpe, the man who killed his wife.
“Fine.”
He leans forward, his gaze burning right through me. “When I return on Monday, I trust you’ll be back with my request.”
“You’re leaving the mansion?” I grin, rising from my chair. Watching his smirk, I have a feeling his response is not going to be something I want to hear.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow to see Giuliana,” he says, his tone calm, testing me. “She’s decided to stay indefinitely, so I’ll be heading out to say goodbye to her.” The corner of his mouth ticks with satisfaction, knowing he’s fucking with my head when he mentions his daughter. He’s not done it often since she left, but every now and then, when he feels like taunting me, he’ll mention her.
Shocked at his revelation, I’m on my feet, leaning on his desk, my hands in fists as I press them into the wooden surface. “Where is she?” I question, my voice a dark, violent growl that vibrates through me.
He watches me for a moment before he sighs. “She’s in a convent, and that’s where she’s chosen to stay.”
My heart catapults in my chest, slamming against my ribs painfully. This can’t be true. She’s never been religious, neither has her father. Nor her mother, for that matter, before she was killed. This has to be a fucking joke.
“What?” I chuckle, thinking he’s further provoking me. But he doesn’t laugh. No, Arthur is deadly fucking serious. “She chose that?”
“She did. Giuliana isn’t coming home, Lance. And you need to stop looking for her. If you don’t, I’ll have to persuade you in other ways.” His threat hangs heavily in the air between us.