CHAPTER 28
Matteo’s POV
“She’s not answering.”
I gripped my phone tighter, staring at the dark screen as if sheer willpower could force it to ring. It did not.
Pacing in the study, I dialed her number again, knowing full well the outcome would be the same. The line went straight to voicemail. Again.
“Damn it, Amara,” I muttered, cutting through the silence in the room.
I slammed the phone down onto the desk,
echoing like a gunshot. And my head.
ea
played worst case scenarios that might have happened to him. I swear if Luca had something to do with this, I would kill him. She was supposed to be home an hour ago. She was supposed to call me if there were any delays. Instead, nothing. Just radio. silence.
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When I arrived home, the butler had
confirmed that she hadn‘ t returned. No calls, no messages. It was like she had vanished.
It wasn‘ t like her to ignore me. Not like this.
I grabbed the glass of whiskey I had poured earlier, the amber liquid swirling as my hand trembled. Trembled. That wasn’t like me either. I never trembled, I never feared anything. But not until I met Amara. I feared for her.
This was my fault.
I should not have let her leave alone. I should not have agreed when she insisted on just one driver instead of a full security detail. “We don’t need a parade everywhere we go,” she had said with a firm tone, giving no room for discussion. She hated the constant shadow of my men, hated feeling like a prisoner.
But I should have overruled her. I was the
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one who knew the risks, the dangers lurking around every corner. I should have been there.
I should have been there.
My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up, my heart leaping, hoping that it was her. But it wasn’t.
“Jeoff,” I barked into the phone. He was my cousin and right hand man, a trusted confidant.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Get to the villa. Now.”
“I’m on my way.
I ended the call and downed the whiskey in one gulp, the burn doing so little to calm the fire in my chest.
By the time Jeoff arrived, I had paced a trench into the floor, and my frustration boiled over into anger. He stepped into the study with a dark casual suit and a frowned face, knowing full well that we would be
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talking about work.
“Amara hasn’t come home.” I immediately said. “Her phone‘ s off and the driver is not answering either.”
Jeoff s brows furrowed, but he nodded in understanding. We had done this a lot of times before, tracking our missing colleagues, or sometimes, enemies. He knew what to do. “Do you want me to track the car?”
“Now,” I snapped. “I want to know where the hell it is and why it hasn’t brought her home.”
