a little under the power of my stare.
I descend the stage just as the yelling starts up again, and I hear Carmen trying to soothe the crowd as I burst through the door.
Vito is waiting in the hallway and keeps pace with me as I storm toward the street. The security on either side announces my imminent arrival to my driver, David.
“You need to find Alexis,” I growl, not waiting for Vito to speak. “And you need to find her now. I am sick of failure, and I will not tolerate any more of it. I do not trust her alone out there with my son.”
I am furious with the reporters, but more so with myself. I have already lost much of my power to external sources. I should be able to do better than to lose power over my own composure.
Vito looks over, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t say any words, but he doesn’t have to. I read his intended meaning crystal clear.
“Do I need to repeat myself?” I snap.
“No, sir,” Vito answers deferentially, and it stings.
He was my best friend long before he became my right-hand man and most trusted advisor. He does not deserve me lashing out at him, especially since I trust he has been doing everything in his power to find Alexis.
An apology sticks in my throat. I am not in the habit of providing them, and by the time I have gathered the words, we have reached the car and the moment has passed.
We drive in silence back to the mansion. Vito taps and swipes at the screen of his phone, and I stare out the window. The trees that grow crooked and thin from the pavement burst with the golds and reds of fall. The midday sun casts few shadows, the only darkness emanating from narrow alleyways, littered with garbage and other human debris. I spot several slumped figures hidden in the gloom. I wonder how many purple-stained syringes I could find rolling across the damp pavement if I looked.
We turn and begin to pass a park, grassy knolls covered in picnickers and dog walkers enjoying the last breaths of summer.
And then I see her.
Thick, curvaceous thighs, flaring hips, bouncing brown curls. She disappears over the lip of the hill.
“Stop the car!” I demand.
We jerk to a stop. The car behind beeps angrily, but I barely hear it from the blood rushing through my ears.
“What is it?” Vito asks, bending over to look out my window.
I don’t have time to answer. Alexis is getting away. I jump out of the car and sprint into the park, muscles crying out in agony at the sudden burst of motion. I grit my teeth and push through it. I need to catch her.
I climb the hill, nearly trampling a young couple’s picnic, and pause to scan down the pathways and between the oaks, leaves quivering in the light breeze. I spy her near the pond, running toward the park’s exit, and take off after her.
“Alexis!” I call.
She doesn’t stop.
Heart racing, I bound after her, closing the distance between us with painful, long-legged strides.
“Stop!” I roar, attracting the gaze of curious onlookers.
She doesn’t look back but speeds up, and I race to catch her before she ends up on the streets, where it will be easier for her to disappear into the crowd. I am desperate to catch her. And once I do, I will never let her go again.
We near the gates. I am close now, almost close enough to grab her. My gaze runs over the length of her body and something doesn’t seem right. Before I can figure out what it is, I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. Alexis spins around and yanks the headphones from her ears.
It’s not Alexis.
The woman’s eyes are wide with fear and I release my grip on her arm, fumbling for an apology. “Sorry. I thought you were somebody else.”
I feel ridiculous. If I hadn’t been so clouded with emotion at the sight of this woman, I would have noticed any number of differences between her and Alexis, or even just stopped to question why Alexis would be out jogging in the city in the middle of the day when I know she has been hunkered down in moldering motels for the past month, but from the second I spotted her, I went into a frenzy and all reason went out the window.
The woman jogs away, and I make my retreat across the park to