Calisto
Balancing the phone on his shoulder, Calisto hastily buttoned up his suit jacket. “Allow me entrance into Emma Sorrento’s penthouse, now.”
“Yes, sir,” said the security.
Calisto stepped into the opened elevator, pressed Emma’s room number, and waited for the fools downstairs to approve his request for entry. Finally, the doors on the other side of the elevator opened after his side closed.
“Thank you,” Calisto said into the phone. “And one more thing.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Should Affonso Donati or Miss Sorrento’s family call today wanting updates on her arrivals and departures, please make sure to keep this little incident under wraps. There’s no need to go worrying them over nothing. I will handle it.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Good.”
Calisto hung up the phone and stepped into Emma’s quiet penthouse. His reasons for wanting to keep Emma’s disappearing act a secret was obvious—she probably panicked and ran when she thought there was an opening, and Calisto was not going to be the fool who put his head on the block for her foolishness.
He got the girl, as far as that went. He didn’t blame her for wanting to get away, or wanting to be free of what her future held, but he couldn’t help her there.
Letting her run meant sacrificing his life.
Calisto wasn’t quite ready to die yet.
He had to give Emma credit where it was due. This escape plan of hers had to have been a spur of the moment thing, considering she couldn’t have known he would invite her over the night before. For a quick getaway, she had done okay so far.
Running was one thing.
Hiding was quite another.
Calisto put his cell phone inside his pocket as he strolled into the main area of Emma’s penthouse. The clean, bright atmosphere of the place was magnified in the morning light. White marble floors and eggshell-toned walls lit up under the sunlight filtering in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Calisto murmured under his breath as he took a look around. “Tell me where you’ve gone, sweet girl, and make this easier on both of us.”
He made a beeline for the bedroom that he knew belonged to Emma. After having spent the better part of the past few weeks packing things in her apartment with the help of a moving company, Calisto felt comfortable enough to know which rooms had been designated for what purpose.
In the bedroom, he found a mess. Clothes, what little Emma had kept for the duration of her stay in Vegas, had been tossed on the floor and discarded. The closet door was opened far enough for Calisto to see that Emma had taken one of the four designer suitcases out and left the other three behind. She’d taken the smallest one.
Just enough to pack a couple of things, he realized.
That explained the mess.
Even the small jewelry box on top of the dresser looked like someone had been rifling through it.
In the attached bathroom, the countertop looked like it had exploded products over the top. Calisto recognized a few obvious things that were missing from the mess. A toothbrush, hairbrush, and a small toiletry kit that Emma had asked him to tell the movers to leave alone so she could keep using it.
The scattered products didn’t bother Calisto as much as the writing on the bathroom mirror did. In red lipstick, Emma had written one word with hard strokes.
Sorry.
Calisto rubbed at his forehead, sighing. “Cristo. You’re going to make me do this, huh, Emma?”
Irritation churned in Calisto’s gut. He hated to admit it, but he was bothered by the fact that Emma had tricked him like she had. After the night before, he thought that maybe the two could be friends, and he would be able to ignore the strange attraction. At least to the point where he could be appropriate and respectful to his uncle’s soon-to-be bride.
Emma played him.
Hard.
It pissed Calisto off like nothing else.
On the other hand, he also couldn’t deny the concern bubbling up right behind the anger. Emma had little to carry her. No money without approval and no vehicle that wasn’t able to be traced. She had only enough clothes to use for a few days, and frankly, Calisto didn’t believe the girl had enough street smarts to stay low and out of sight for the amount of time she would need to get away safely.
It was bad, all the way around the board.
The cell phone in his pocket rang, bringing Calisto out of his warring thoughts. Hitting the answer button, he put the phone to his ear and said, “Donati speaking.”
“Mr. Donati,” the familiar voice of the security guy said, “we’ve got two visuals on Miss Sorrento before she was able to leave the building. We thought you might want to know what route she took to leave the casino.”
“She took the exit. That’s what you said.”
“Yes, sir, but she had several levels down below that she could have entered from. The exits for the penthouses can only be unlocked from inside the rooms, and not from the stairwells, like the hallways below.”
“You’re wasting my time with nonsense. Hurry the fuck up.”
“Sorry,” the guy muttered. “We first got sight of her coming out of the exit inside the underground parking garage on the third level.”
Calisto’s fist tightened around the phone. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the second visual?”
He really didn’t need the guy to say it. Calisto knew what was parked on the third level of the underground parking garage.
“The parking garage camera caught her unlocking the black Mercedes parked in your parking spot, sir,” the guy said quieter.
Calisto clenched his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache.
Goddammit.
Clearly, the girl wasn’t playing around. She’s stolen his keys, likely thinking that she would leave him without means to chase after her. It was one hell of a risk, though, as most rental cars had GPS in them to track the vehicles. The Mercedes did have GPS in it, but it would take Calisto half of the fucking day just to get the information on locations from the company.
Not to mention, if he did call for the GPS locations, the car would be reported as stolen by the rental company. Calisto couldn’t risk the chance of police becoming involved. There would be no hiding what Emma had done.
It would be better for everyone involved, Emma included, if Calisto could manage to get her back quietly, safely, and without issues. Even better if no one knew it had happened at all.
“No other visuals caught on camera?” Calisto asked.
“Just the final one of the Mercedes pulling out of the parking garage and leaving the property. She took an exit that was unmonitored by security.”
Smart girl.
“Thanks for the update. Remember what I said about those calls.”
“Our lips are sealed, sir.”
“Wonderful,” Calisto said.
“Is there anything else we can help with?”
“Actually, yes. I know the casino’s hotel has vehicles on standby for the wealthier guests to use, should something come up and their rentals are unavailable. What do you have on hand at the moment that is dark-colored and can make zero to sixty in less than three seconds?”
“Um …”
“That is not an answer. If money is an issue, you can charge it to my card.”
“No, that’s not the problem. I would have to check. We had a couple come in this morning after checkout time.”
“It’ll take me fifteen minutes to get down to the garage, right?” Calisto asked.
“About that, yes.”
“Have a car waiting when I get down there. Make me wait for one, and you’ll be explaining to a guest why the closest dark-colored, fast car was stolen for a joy ride. Understood?”
The man on the other end cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, sir.”
“Great. Fifteen minutes.”
He ended the call, feeling more frustrated than before. Stepping out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, the upended jewelry box caught Calisto’s attention once more. He made his way over to the dresser and riffled through the bits of jewelry to see what was there.
The engagement ring that Affonso had given Emma rested on the top of the pile. So did the bracelet and pendant necklace. Calisto took inventory of the room and the belongings scattered about once more. This time, he looked at it with new eyes.
Almost everything Emma left behind was from Affonso. The clothes, fur coat, and new shoes. Her jewelry, the new laptop on the bed, and the paperwork for the spa were tossed onto the corner chair.
When they had packed up the place with the moving company, Emma hadn’t left very much except for a few outfits and things she wanted to physically take to New York herself. Calisto was only now seeing the items as Emma must have when she decided to run.
These things weren’t hers.
She didn’t want them.
Emma didn’t want Affonso.
An ache pulsed in Calisto’s chest. It felt like someone had taken a knife, plunged it into his heart, and then twisted with all their might.
The girl just wanted to be free.
Calisto had to bring her back.
Jesus.
Why did this have to be so damned difficult?
Calisto knew the answer to his question. It wasn’t just his odd desire for Emma that kept poking at his nerves every time she was close by, it was also his interest in who she was beyond the engagement ring, the last name, and her pretty little mask. He’d never been very interested in a woman before. The one to finally perk his interest just happened to be off-limits in a big way.
He wanted to let her run.
He did.
But he couldn’t.
“I gave you a head start,” he said to the empty room. “But that’s just about all I can do, Emma.”
Calisto pushed open the third floor emergency exit and entered the parking garage. Fifty feet away, a shiny, black Porsche was parked in the spot that should have belonged to his rented Mercedes. A young man leaned against the back of the Porsche with a set of keys dangling from his hand.
“Mr. Donati?” the man asked.
“That’s me,” Calisto replied. “And this car will certainly fit my purposes. Well done to the bastard that managed to get this for me.”
The young man smiled and held out the keys. “Here you are, sir. The tank is full.”
Calisto took the keys. “Thank you.”
It took Calisto all of two minutes to get the engine roaring, bake the tires pulling out of the garage, and make his way toward the exit that Emma had taken to leave. He was just pulling up to the exit that would take him to the Strip when something out of the corner of his eye made him hit the brakes.
Calisto pulled over to the side, made sure to give anyone behind him lots of room to pass, and stepped out of the Porsche. He moved around the front of the car, stepped up onto the sidewalk, and found the item that had made him stop.
A black iPhone had been tossed to the manicured grass.
Calisto knew that phone.
It was Emma’s.
He plucked the device up, noting how it didn’t have even a scratch on it. It turned on perfectly fine. Unfortunately, the locked screen wanted a four-digit passcode to enter the phone. He shoved it into his pocket anyway.
As Calisto got back into the Porsche, he wondered why Emma had tossed the iPhone. She would need a way to contact someone if she needed help to move from one spot to another. It was her main connection to people.
Affonso had a new phone waiting for her in New York, but this one was untouched by the man’s usual methods of tracking.
Unless, of course, Emma knew something that Calisto didn’t where the phone was concerned. It was a good possibility that if it came from Emma’s father or uncle, it might have a tracking chip or GPS app to map her whereabouts.
Pulling out onto the Strip, Calisto hit the gas hard. “Think, man. Where would she go first?”
Calisto dug for his phone and balanced it against the steering wheel with one hand while he drove with the other. He unlocked the device and scrolled through to his email. Opening the file he had pinned at the top so that he wouldn’t lose it, Calisto kept one eye on the road and the other on the pages of information he had collected about Emma before he made the trip to Vegas.
School information.
Hangouts.
Interests.
Friends.
That’s what Calisto wanted. He needed to know her friends, where they lived, and which one was the closest to their current position. Emma only had so many options to help her get out of Vegas, or stay quiet long enough to take the heat off her. Without cash to help her travel, or falsified documents that would keep her from being tracked by her family, she would be left with whoever would lend a hand to help her.
Trying to go through the list of names and information attached to Emma’s list of few friends was difficult while Calisto attempted to navigate the unfamiliar roads. Despite being in Vegas for nearly a month, he still wasn’t entirely comfortable driving in the city.
Calisto was glad he had saved the information about Emma. After learning more about the young woman his uncle intended to marry, Calisto considered tossing away the information as it was practically useless to him.
Apparently it wasn’t.
The phone vibrated and rang in Calisto’s hand, nearly making him ram into the trunk of the vehicle ahead of him. The white Mustang in front of his Porsche laid on the horn and the driver gave him the middle finger.
Calisto stuck his own right back up for the asshole to see.
Fuck him.
Cursing under his breath at the phone number flashing on the screen of his phone, Calisto steeled his nerves for a chat that was sure to be fun, if he couldn’t manage to lie his ass off.
“Hello, zio,” Calisto said when he answered.
He put the call on speaker and tossed it to the cup holder. He couldn’t afford to get pulled over by the police because he had a damned phone in his hand.
“Cal,” Affonso greeted. “How’s my favorite nephew this morning?”
“I’m your only nephew. What do you want?”
“Is the attitude really necessary?”
Yes.
“I’m driving, Affonso,” Calisto said, not bothering to hide the tiredness in his tone. “I don’t really have time to make small—”
“You always have time for your boss.”
Calisto checked his attitude. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“It’s ten in the morning in Vegas. What are you doing driving?”
Somehow, a lie found its way out without hesitation. “Emma is meeting up with a girlfriend for brunch. I’m following behind.”
“Brunch,” Affonso scoffed. “Lazy woman’s breakfast. Can you at least make sure she doesn’t drink?”
“She’s not legal.”
“Were you legal when you first began drinking?”
“Point taken,” Calisto muttered. “I’ll keep an eye on her, like I have been doing.”
“Perfect. You’re missed back here, you know.”
Calisto swallowed back the immediate retort he wanted to let out. The one that would tell his uncle no, he wasn’t missed, he was simply not under Affonso’s thumb. “Is that so?”
“Ray is picking up your slack,” Affonso explained.
Ray Missotti, Affonso’s underboss, was the other great pain in Calisto’s life. If his uncle wasn’t on his ass, then Ray was doing it for Affonso.
“I’ll be home in, what, three days? Tell him to take a fucking pill. It’s not like the man ever lifts a finger. It’s a good lesson for him.”
Affonso chuckled. “I already did tell him all of that. Nonetheless, that’s my point. He hates running around for me and keeping an eye on things like you do. And besides, you do a better job of it.”
“Three days,” Calisto repeated.
It wasn’t just a reminder for his uncle, but also for him. He had three damned days to find Emma, get her back with no one any wiser to her getaway, and catch the plane for New York.
A part of him wanted to let her run.
The other part knew better.
“Hard to believe that I’ll be a married man once again in just a week,” Affonso said more to himself than to Calisto. “You know, the offer is still there, Cal.”
“What offer, zio?”
“The option to take over the family. My marriage doesn’t make a difference to that. You can still—”
“I don’t want to talk about this again,” Calisto interrupted dully.
“I want my famiglia to keep my family name, Cal. We have been the Donati Cosa Nostra for five decades.”
“Then make sure your next wife pops out a boy for you.”
Calisto wished he could take the words back the very second they left his lips, but he couldn’t. Strangely, the odd pain from earlier pierced his chest again at the idea of Emma birthing Affonso’s children.
What in the hell was wrong with him?
“That’s my plan,” Affonso said, unaware of Calisto’s inner battle. “And I’ll have to stay alive long enough to put my boy on the right path.”
Calisto chewed on his inner cheek before saying, “I’d look after him.”
It was the truth.
Despite how much Calisto hated Affonso, he would take care of the man’s children. For many reasons, but mostly because Calisto had been taught by his mother that no matter what, family came first. More importantly, it was Calisto’s job to take care of those in his family who couldn’t watch after themselves.
That’s what a good man did.
Always.
Affonso was the only one Calisto didn’t give that gift to.
“I know you would, my boy,” Affonso said heavily. “You’re good in that way.”
Calisto smirked, tasting a bitterness on his tongue. “Yeah, I am.”
“Give my hello to Emma. Make sure she keeps her nose clean. Not long now, and you can drop the babysitting act, Cal.”
“Will do.”
“Ciao, my boy.”
Calisto didn’t say goodbye before hanging up the call. Rubbing at the ache beginning to throb at the base of his skull, Calisto caught sight of a flashing neon sign.
Pawns. Electronics. Gold. And More.
He smirked again, and cut in front of the car trying to pass him to make the turnoff for the business with the flashy sign.
Chances were, that place took hot items. Almost all pawn shops did. Sometimes they would report it to police, but most times they didn’t. Nonetheless, if the place would take electronics, someone in that shop knew how to unlock an iPhone without losing the information on it.
Hopefully.
Maybe there was a last call that Emma had made. Someone with info about where she had gone. Even better if whoever it was happened to also be in the list of names inside Calisto’s files on the girl.
Calisto was willing to take the risk.
What else did he have to lose?