"Take me there."
We get in the car and I take my cellphone out. I flew here straight from Italy, having told my cousin we had Eliza. I won't let him know yet that we lost her. With any luck I'll catch up to Eliza before Gabriele needs to know she got away again.
Paolo drives us through the city at a speed which he rarely achieves on the narrow streets of Rome.
Unencumbered by millennia of history, Sydney is built for the modern era. It's vibrant and fun, but it can't compete with the beauty of my hometown.
History may slow things down, but it reminds me where I come from.
There are some issues with permits for a construction project I'm a major investor in. I delegate those to my personal assistant Amara. She's been with me for years and is capable of smoothing over the problems we occasionally encounter.
As I get out of the car, I put my phone back in my pocket.
"Adriano." The note of caution in Paolo's voice as he joins me on the sidewalk makes me look around.
I see what he's worried about when I spot Bruno sauntering toward us, arms thrown wide and mouth open, poised to offerme some excuse for his failure. The thought of shooting him is more appealing than ever.
My Aunt Beatrice, who persuaded Damiano to employ this asshole, died last year so I see no real impediment to eliminating Bruno. It might piss Damiano off, though, so I shelve the thought for now.
Not giving Bruno a chance to bullshit me, I pull back my fist and punch him in the face. The crunch of bone beneath my knuckles is gratifying, but it's not enough.
As he stumbles back, I grab a fistful of his shirt and haul him closer to hit him again, twice for good measure. Then I let the sack of shit drop to the ground.
Proving once again how ill-suited he is to our world the blonde-haired, blue-eyed fuck who somehow convinced my aunt of his worth lies there sniveling like a worm. Shaking my head, I accept a wet wipe from Paolo.
My knuckles are bloodied from hitting Bruno's bony face but you don't see me crying over it. I clean my hands and drop the balled up wipe on Bruno.
"Fuck up again and I'll end you," I warn him.
Disgusted, I turn and walk into the apartment building with Paolo a step behind. The entrance foyer is dark and dingy, the only source of light coming from a single naked bulb at the center of the space.
It takes me a minute to locate the source of the putrid smell assaulting my nose, an overflowing trash can in the corner behind the main door. Somewhere above us a dog is barking. Who would keep an animal cooped up in a place like this?
Eliza Moretti wasn't among the elite of Roman society, but she came from a respectable middle-class family and when she was with Gabriele she experienced the finer side of life. Living in places like this must have been a shock to her system at first. I wonder if she's grown used to it.
"Which floor?" I ask.
"Sixth." Paolo points to the right. "There's an elevator."
"Fantastic."
We travel up to the sixth floor in an elevator that smells like piss. Paolo gets out ahead of me and walks along the corridor to number seventy-two, alert to danger which I doubt we'll find here.
He knocks at the door and a few seconds later a young woman answers. Tall, blonde and blue-eyed, she's the opposite of Eliza, a petite brunette with eyes the color of a freshly roasted coffee bean. The way the woman thrusts her chest out tells me I'm her type, so I play on that. Will Eliza greet me like this when I finally catch up with her? I doubt it.
"Buongiorno, bella. I'm looking for Elena."
Her lips push into a pout. She doesn't like that I'm here for another woman.
"Elena's gone. She did a moonlight flit and stuck me with the rent."
"Oh, that's awful, but so typical of my cousin."
"Your cousin?" The roommate perks up again.
"Yes, she's a troubled soul. I came to bring her home but now I'll have to return and tell my poor aunt I failed."
The blonde twirls a strand of hair around her finger. "Well, I don't know where she went but she did ask to use my laptop last night. Maybe she looked up bus times or something."