He was supposed to be ecstatic. Thrilled. Over the moon with happiness. But he wasn’t.
Was it because he was in shock? Any moment now, the shock would wear off and he’d be happy beyond his wildest dreams.
Except for one thing: he was in love with Olivia now.
But that would have to change.
Pamela continued. “Dino told us Katarina is living at an address in New Jersey. We checked it. She used to ship her glass to this address, and a Katarina Zucaro does live there now.”
“It doesn’t make any sense! Why didn’t they ask for a ransom? Why did she never try to contact me?” Alessandro pounded the table with his fist, and Pamela caught their cups to keep them from flying out of their saucers.
“Alessandro,” she said softly. “This is hard for me too, but you have to stay calm. You’re going to hear me out, then we’re going to decide what the next step is. That’s all we can do. As for the answers to your questions, I don’t know. Maybe they decided the risk was too great. Maybe they threatened her.”
He raked his fingers through his still-drying hair, planting his elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined, this hadn’t been one. “Okay, go on, but don’t tell me to calm down again or that this is as hard for you as it is for me. Because it isn’t, and I think I’ll lose it.”
“Okay,” Pamela said. “I won’t. And just so you’re forewarned, it’s already made the press. I think Dino’s lawyer leaked it for some extra cash. He’s a pretty sleazy guy.”
Alessandro got up, went to the window, and watched the swans swimming on the pond. Pamela came and stood beside him, and he turned and put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. “Mother of God,” he said.
“I’ll always be here for you,” Pamela said. “We’re more than partners, you know that . . .”
“Thanks,” he said, and he looked up to see Olivia standing in the doorway, dressed in the jeans and sweater he’d given her, her thick dark hair mussed, looking every bit like she’d just climbed out of his bed. Mother of God, he repeated, though not aloud this time. What hell have I dragged her into?
Nothing that dinner in Paris could make up for.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked hoarsely.
“Your wife is still alive?” she asked, her voice containing a hint of hysteria.
He was angry at himself, but he lashed out at her. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know I never should have let you convince me to start something with you. Not now, maybe not ever! Get your shoes and coat.”
“Alessandro—” Pamela began.
“Don’t you start! If you tell me to calm down again, I’ll—” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid, as he had no idea what he’d do. Some small part of him realized that Olivia had run off crying, but he didn’t care. Or he did care. He didn’t know, but he had to get her away from him. These tears now were nothing compared to what she’d go through if she stayed. Better she think him a complete ass; it would make it easier for her.
Moments later, Olivia was back downstairs. Still in tears, she stood in the foyer, jacket and shoes on, purse clutched in her arms.
“Pamela, take Olivia and put her in Orlando’s car. Tell him to take her home and not to let her out of his sight until we know what we’re dealing with. It sounds like they were working alone, but I’m not taking any chances right now.”
“Alessandro, please—” Olivia pleaded just as his cellphone rang.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, his attention on his phone’s display. “Just get in the car with Orlando.”
He put the phone to his ear. “Pronto,” he said as the front door slammed shut.