Turning Point||Book 2

19: Romano.

As I stepped out of the steam-filled shower, my eyes caught sight of a slew of missed calls from Ottavio. The nerve of Max, I thought, daring to spill the beans about my decision. But even seventeen calls from Ottavio wouldn't deter me from my rendezvous with Angelo.

I entertained no delusions that Angelo had merely wanted to plant a kiss on Xenia and touch her legs. This was the Rossi blood coursing through his veins, Vitriol's spawn; he wouldn't go to such lengths of injecting a woman for a bloody kiss.

Either Xenia was too terrified and ashamed to confront the truth, or the truth had been obliterated from her mind by the effects of GHB. I'd witnessed it before, in countless women, so my skepticism wasn't born of rage but of bitter experience. Most women, after a dose of GHB, woke up with their memories wiped clean, conveniently forgetting the debauchery of the night before. It was a safety net for them and their patrons, and it kept the thrill alive for men who reveled in such depravity.

I'd never indulged, never judged, never comprehended it, but now, I had every reason to loathe and confront it head-on.

I didn't need anyone chauffeuring me around. Maybe I was searching for something profoundly therapeutic, yet cruising around for two hours did nothing to calm my nerves.

I had tracked Angelo down to Cefalù.

The imposing cliffs rose dramatically from the azure waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. The town had a picturesque harbor, lined with colorful fishing boats and overlooked by a towering medieval fortress perched atop a rocky promontory.

Parking the black sedan in a discreet alleyway near the harbor of Cefalu, I navigated through narrow cobblestone streets flanked by ancient buildings patterned with balconies overflowing with vibrant flowers.

I observed the bustling activity around me. Local fishermen haggled over their afternoon catch at the market stalls, while tourists meandered through the maze of winding streets, snapping photos of historic landmarks and sampling freshly baked pastries from local bakeries.

A young boy even waved a hand at me that I reciprocated. As I made my way towards the waterfront, I spotted a weather-beaten fisherman tending to his boat. Striking up a conversation, I negotiated a deal to hire the vessel for a few hours, offering a generous sum of cash to ensure his cooperation.

With the boat secured, I set off into the sparkling blue waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea, guided by the seasoned fisherman towards the secluded cove where I was sure Angelo was.

Stepping foot onto a weather-beaten dock on the opposite side of the cove, I could feel the cool sea breeze tousling my hair as I surveyed the rugged coastline before me. The cliffs towered above, their jagged edges casting shadows against the shimmering waters below. It was a secluded and desolate place.

I made my way along the rocky shoreline, careful to avoid attracting attention. A man in black would usually cause heads to turn.

I kept a close eye on the cove where Max had said he discovered Angelo would be rendezvousing someone. Hidden behind a cluster of boulders, I settled into a concealed vantage point, my senses heightened as I attempted to spot him.

Hours passed, the sun sinking lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape. Finally, the sound of a motorboat broke the stillness of the air, and I watched intently as Angelo and his company exited the cove, their silhouettes brightened by the fading light.

I watched from my vantage point as the six men unloaded their hefty bags onto the shore. Angelo's company had a distinct way of walking that I recognized. As he turned and removed his sunglasses, I did the same, making sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.