Not that he’ll care about my feelings, but surely, he’ll care about Valentina’s safety.
Several hours later, I enter Chicago.
I’m dead on my feet.
I find a cheap hotel efficiency, giving a fake name and paying with cash.
In the room, I crash on the bed, giving myself an hour before resuming my quest.
I wake with a jolt, disoriented in the dim hotel room.
The cheap digital clock shows I've barely slept an hour.
My body aches for more, but I can’t wait any longer.
The lukewarm shower does little to wash away my exhaustion.
I dress quickly in a suit, to look the part of an enforcer.
I check my weapon and secure it at my back. Luca's territory is unfamiliar ground.
In New York, I knew every street, every player, every rule.
Here, I'm just another stranger without protection or standing.
I rehearse what to say during the drive to his office.
I’m nobody to him, so I need to focus on Valentina and hope that the closeness I saw between him and Valentina months back is real.
The building looks unassuming, a renovated warehouse in an industrial district.
Smart. Inconspicuous, yet easily defensible.
I spot at least four men on perimeter duty before I even park.
My palms sweat as I approach the entrance, which is unusual.
I’m not a man prone to nerves.
But everything is riding on this.
This is it.
My last chance.
"I need to see Luca Dante," I tell the guard at the door. "Cristian Bonetti from New York."
The man's expression doesn't change. "Mr. Dante isn't expecting you."
"It's about his sister."
His eyes narrow. "Wait here."
I stand in the entryway for fifteen minutes. It’s not long but it feels like forever.
When a second guard appears, I take a step forward, only to be blocked.
"Mr. Dante isn't available."