“Got it.” He hesitated before settling his stormy gaze on Arianne. “I didn’t know... I swear, I didn’t think—”
She stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault. But please, find her.” A shudder ripped through Arianne and I pulled her into my arms.
“Go.” I mouthed to Enzo. “And keep me updated.”
He gave me a stiff nod and took off down the hall.
“You really think Scott did something?” Arianne stared up at me with glassy eyes.
“It could be something or it could be nothing. For all we know, Nora freaked and is in Alessia’s or her parents' room right now sleeping it off.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She gave me a weak smile.
“Let’s get dressed and then we’ll go look, okay?”
“Okay.”
Anger zipped up my spine, threatening to take hold. This was supposed to be the first day of the rest of our lives and that fucker Scott Fascini had found a way to ruin it.
You don’t know it’s definitely him yet.
But my gut instinct said it was.
“You think it is him, don’t you?” A tear rolled down Arianne’s cheek.
“Bambolina,” I inhaled a harsh breath, “everything will be fine, I promise.”
I regretted the words the second they were out.
Less than one day into married life and I was already making promises I didn’t know I could keep.
“Okay, what have we got?” Myself, Enzo, Luis, Maurice, and a couple of our guys were gathered around the club’s security camera feeds.
“It’s definitely him,” Enzo ground out as he glared at a still shot of a guy entering the elevator. “His hair is longer and he’s in staff uniform, but I’d know that smirk anywhere.”
“He’s right.” My heart plummeted. “It’s Fascini.”
“He disappears here.” The tech guy pointed to another screen. “It’s a blind spot area. But another camera picks him up here and here.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“We lose him. It’s like he’s a ghost.”
“Fuck.” Enzo slammed his fist into the wall, and I raised a brow.
“Feel better?”
“I’ll feel better when that fucker is six-feet in the ground.”
The tech guy blanched, but didn’t say a word. He knew the score. He knew who we were and what had happened.
“What about the outside cameras?”
“Nothing except this car leaving at,” he leaned in, squinting at the screen, “a little after five.”
“We have to assume he took her.” Luis shot me a concerned look. “Which means he has a five-hour head start.”
“Nora is Arianne’s best friend,” I said. “He knew he wouldn’t be able to get to her, so he took the next best thing. He’ll use her as leverage to get what he really wants.”
“Ari.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting violently. “He’ll make contact when he’s ready.”
“So we just wait? That’s some bullshit right—”
“Enzo,” I warned. “We have to keep our heads. We have no idea where he might be. But it isn’t Nora he wants.”
It was Arianne.
My Arianne.
“If only I’d have—”
“Don’t.” I shook my head at Enzo. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”
“She was right there beside me. I should have felt something. I should have done something. Fuck,” he roared.
“We had the place locked down. He was wearing staff uniform and had a keycard to access the elevator,” Luis said. “He was prepared.”
“Do you need anything else?” the tech guy mumbled, clearly uncomfortable at our presence.
“No, thank you.” I flicked my head to the door, and everyone began filing out.
“Anything?” Matteo jogged up to us.
“It’s Fascini.”
“Fuck.”
“Where’s Arianne?” I asked.
“She’s with her parents and Nora’s parents. Mrs. Abato is beside herself.”
Enzo kicked the wall before taking off, mumbling something about needing some air.
“Is he okay?”
“He blames himself.” I watched him shoulder the door and storm down the hall.
“He was pretty lit when I left them. You know how he can get.”
“He says he passed out, but I can’t believe he didn’t hear anything.”
“Maybe Fascini drugged her so she didn’t put up a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
I let out a heavy sigh as I met Matteo’s stare. “Did I drop the ball here?”
It had been a month and there had been no sign of Scott.
Not a damn thing.
“We all thought he was gone. You told Enzo not to blame himself, but you can’t carry this guilt either, Nic.”
“We need to be ready,” I said. “When he calls,”—and I knew he would—“we need to be ready.”
I was done pussyfooting around where Fascini was concerned.