Mastered(135)

The older Luconi’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Drake. “Now how the hell would they know we met with you unless you told them?”

Drake laughed scornfully. “You’re a fool, old man. If you think the Vanuccis don’t have a man inside your organization reporting every time you so much as take a shit, then you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for.”

Already he was planting a seed of doubt for when he did in fact leak the information to the Vanuccis, thus instigating a bloodbath between the two crime families.

To Drake’s relief, the entrées were finally delivered and he ate quickly, not even tasting what was in front of him. He made it a point not to check his watch to see how much time had elapsed because he wanted these sons of bitches gone while they appeared to be taking their sweet time.

They weren’t stupid. He made it a point to never underestimate his partners or his enemies. He had no doubt they were taking their time and keeping close watch on him and his actions so they could determine just what his motives concerning Evangeline were.

And so it was Drake who suggested they go for drinks after they finished dinner, leaving it to them to be satisfied he was in no hurry or decide if he was simply willing them not to call his bluff.

Thankfully for him, once they discussed the Vanuccis in depth and the Luconis tried to strong-arm a commitment from Drake on the spot, they gave up and called it a night, each going their own way from the restaurant while Drake slipped from the back as if he’d never been there at all.#p#分页标题#e#

He called his driver and told him to meet him two blocks from the restaurant, then hastily jumped in, instructing him to get home as fast as he could. His driver, unruffled by the demand, promptly floored it and Drake held his hands in tight fists the entire interminable way there.

He cursed every stoplight but his driver swung deftly through the streets, running intersections that didn’t have heavy cross traffic. When at last they arrived, Drake was out and running before the car had pulled to a complete stop.

He took the express elevator that only ran between his penthouse and the lobby, praying the entire way that Evangeline would even look at him, much less listen to anything he had to say.

God, let her be sweet, generous and forgiving one last time and he’d never give her reason to doubt him again.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he bolted into the apartment yelling her name. He winced when he saw the mess in the kitchen, the contents of what appeared to be an extensive menu dumped on the floor, skillets and pots strewn across the bar, the stove and the floor along with the contents.

When he hit the living room on the way to the bedroom, his dread only increased when he saw the silver trays with appetizers scattered all over the room, liquor and wine bottles smashed and huge wet stains on his furniture and carpet.

Paying them no heed, he burst into the bedroom, prepared to beg, on his knees for her to forgive him. He had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, and that explanation would raise questions he wasn’t prepared to answer without further fear of driving her away. If he hadn’t done so already.

But Evangeline was nowhere to be seen. All the jewelry he’d gifted her with, including the items she’d worn tonight, were scattered on their bed, and the remnants of the dress she’d worn lay in pieces on the floor.

When he checked her closet, it was full except for a couple pair of jeans and a few casual shirts and one pair of tennis shoes. Most noticeable was that his small travel bag was missing.

He sank to his knees, his chest so tight it felt as though it were being crushed.

His worst nightmare had come to life.

She was gone.

He’d driven her away.

He’d treated her despicably.

Not since his childhood had he felt such desolation and helpless despair. But this, this was his doing. He’d done the unthinkable. He wasn’t the victim. Evangeline was. His sweet, innocent angel whose only crime was loving him and wanting to take care of him and show him he mattered.

And he’d repaid her by taking her gift and throwing it back in her face in the most despicable way a man could hurt the woman he cared about.

He buried his face in his hands, raw agony clawing at his insides. “I fucked up, Angel. But I’m coming for you. So help me God. I know I failed you. I let you down. But goddamn it, I will not let you go. I’ll never let you go. I’ll fight for you with my last breath. I can’t live without you,” he whispered. “You’re the only thing good in my life. The only sunshine I’ve ever experienced in a life steeped in gray.

“I can’t live without you. You’re my only reason for living. You have to come home, because without you, I have—I am—nothing.”