ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK.

As I walk into Alessandros’ office, knowing that his meeting is drawing to an end; I hear his velvet voice fill the vicinity.

“Is there still no word from Ryan?” He asks his henchmen with frustration.

I trip over my feet, thanking the God's no one saw me, as everyone is distracted with the folios they have in their grasps.

“I'll take that as a firm no,” Alessandro mutters under his breath as he types away on his keyboard.

Guilt nibbles away at my heart.

I desperately want to tell him where Ryan is to prevent him from stressing out any further.

Then I consider the consequences of telling him that I sent one of his finest men on a mission without his knowledge.

It's undoubtedly safer if I don't tell him.

I scan the third row of books at the bottom of the bookcase and halt when my finger lands on Roses' favourite novel.

I remove it from the shelf and open it, turning the pages as dust escapes from the spine.

Just as I'm about to close it, a scrap of paper falls out