The Don and His Mafia Princess: Book Two of The Costanzo Series - Standalone

CHAPTER 12

The following day, I take a taxi to an isolated corner of California, my heart heavy with the knowledge that this may be my last chance to see Stefano before my flight. I'm on my way to see him because I lost my documents after my little breakdown the other night in the elevator. Luckily for me, they were given to Stefano, but he never returned them to me till today. The memory of his disappointment when I told him I was leaving still lingers, a dull ache in my chest. But he didn't fight me, didn't beg me to stay once I explained the reason behind my departure.

And then there's Ivan, surprising me with a text last night about meeting up again today. His nonchalance about Stefano surprised me - clearly, he doesn't see him as a threat. It makes me question the true nature of my relationship with Stefano. Is his possessiveness simply that of an overprotective brother? The thought sits like a stone in my stomach. I want to be anything but a sister to him.

The taxi driver's announcement of our arrival at the abandoned factory pulls me from my thoughts. I gaze out the window at the decrepit building looming before me, its crumbling facade and shattered windows a stark contrast to the golden California hills surrounding it.

I step out onto the gravel, the crunch of rocks beneath my feet the only sound in the eerie stillness. Stefano's secretary stands beside his car, a stark contrast to the desolate surroundings. She approaches me, documents in hand, her steps echoing in the silence.

"Mr. Costanzo asked me to give you these," she says, her voice devoid of emotion as she hands me the papers.

"Where is he?" I ask, craning my neck to peer inside the building, desperate for a glimpse of him. But there's nothing, just an empty void that mirrors the growing hollowness in my heart.

"He's busy," comes her curt reply, the words like a knife to my already wounded soul.

"Okay, thank you," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper as I take the documents from her hand. I turn back to my taxi, each step heavier than the last. Sadness engulfs me, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. I had hoped, foolishly perhaps, to see him one last time, to memorize every detail of his face, to carry a piece of him with me.

"Wait," the secretary calls out, and a flicker of hope sparks in my heart, a smile spreading across my face. But as I turn back, the words that fall from her lips are not the ones I long to hear. "Mr. Costanzo has also requested Samuel drive you to the airport."

A hulking figure emerges from the abandoned building, and my shoulders slump in defeat. Usually, I would firmly demand that Stefano accompany me himself, insisting on his presence despite any inconvenience, all to selfishly savor a few more precious moments in his captivating aura. But time is not on my side, and I cannot afford to waste it bickering.

I had wanted to see him, to feel his presence one last time, but it seems fate has other plans. Perhaps it's for the best, a clean break to heal the cracks in my heart.

Samuel helps me with my bags, transferring them from the taxi to Stefano's sleek black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I pay the driver, my movements mechanical, my mind a thousand miles away. As we pull away, I turn back, my eyes searching the abandoned building, a desperate plea for Stefano to appear, to give me one last glimpse of his face. But he doesn't come, and as the building fades from view, the sadness in my chest intensifies, a gaping wound that refuses to heal.

On our way, we change our route twice due to sudden road blocks. As we're pulling back to try a different path, a car suddenly appears behind us. Weird! I glance ahead, only to see another vehicle blocking our way, trapping us between them. A chill runs down my spine –something isn't right.

"Samuel, get us the hell out of here!" I exclaim, my heart beginning to pound against my ribs.

"I'm on it, Ma'am," Samuel replies, shifting the car into reverse. But before he can move, a scream tears from my throat.