His car was parked in his drive. I could hear his phone ringing from inside, so I kicked in his door. Mila, I found him dead on his couch, naked, with a bullet in his head.”
No! I just spoke with Michael before midnight. He was at home, awaiting my next order.
“If you kicked in his door, then he must’ve let his killer in.”
Because he certainly wouldn’t open his door to a stranger in the dead of night.
“It looks that way. I looked around while I waited for the police to show up, and there was nothing out of place.”
I can’t believe I’m going to ask my next question, but I have to cover all our bases.
“Is it possible he killed himself?”
He doesn’t hesitate with his response. “No, he wasn’t like that. And anyway, there wasn’t a gun at the scene. Someone killed him and locked up on their way out.”
No gun at the scene. I left him without a chance to defend himself. I called for my men to lay down their weapons, leaving them all vulnerable.
“This will be Raphael. He would’ve gone for Michael, thinking we blew up his church.”
It’s not hard to figure out when our hatred for one another is so clear. The people aren’t stupid. When they hear of Michael’s death, they’ll think the Camarco’s blew up the church in retaliation.
“What do you want me to do, Mila? We need to strike now before the entire city wakes.”
Finishing my coffee, I look out over the city, cursing Raphael Marocchi.
The gates at the end of the drive begin to open, and Trey is on his feet, rushing to stand in front of me.
Pushing to my feet, I place my coffee cup on the table and stand at his side. “Don’t you think that if they were our enemy, Mary would let them through the gate?
We both recognise the car, and I make my way downstairs to the front door. By the time it’s open, Alexander is climbing out, his suit dishevelled, and his hair flopping over his eyes.
“Looks like someone’s had a long night,” I mutter to Trey before stepping toward Alexander.
“Trey has just informed me of Michael’s death. I want to know what you’re going to do about it?” I demand, my voice catching at the end.
“What I’m going to do about it? I came here looking for answers from you, Jamila.”
He walks by me, inviting himself into my home, and doesn’t stop until he’s pouring himself a scotch in my office.
“You need to explain, Alex. I don’t understand what you could want from me?”
Raising his brows, he looks at me like he’s seeing right through me. “St Jacob’s church was blown sky high the same night your man, Michael Romano, is shot dead. Was the bomb payback?” he spits out before throwing back his drink.
“I assure you, this wasn’t my call. I did not order a bombing in a sacred place. As far as Michael’s death is concerned, I just found out not ten minutes ago.” Having to explain myself is a new concept, and I don’t like it.
“Jamila, you vowed you’d bring peace. This is not peace!” he roars, throwing his glass against my wall.
Trey jerks forward, but I grab his arm to stop him. I’m positive I can sway the mayor my way, I just need him to calm down a little. It’s time to amp up this charade.
“Alex, darling, whoever bombed the church, it wasn’t because I ordered it, nor was it any of my men. Trey didn’t even find Michael’s body until early this morning. How could it be retaliation on my part?”
This calms him, and he falls back on the armchair by the fireplace. Leaning forward, he rests his head in his hands.
I nod to Trey, asking for privacy. I know he won’t be far if I need him.
Crossing the room, I kneel down and pull Alexander’s hands away from his face. When he looks up at me, I see the same fatigue in him I always feel myself.
“We’re to be married next year. If you don’t believe me when I say I didn’t do this, then we already have problems. I’ve never lied to you, nor do I plan on ever doing so. I’m not a fool, Alex. If I didn’t want peace for Vita, I wouldn’t have proposed marriage and have my men surrender their weapons.”
His shoulders sag as he rests his forehead against mine. It’s an intimate act to me, and one I will only allow because