Pauly’s POV.
“Where is she?” There was thunder in my voice, it echoed throughout the home of the Mancini brothers. Bouncing back against their warm walls. The reverberation slamming, hitting me, dead center in the chest.
“You need to watch your tone,” Enzo warns me.
“Don’t. Tell me. To watch my tone.” I didn’t dare to turn to face the eldest Mancini brother. If I did, I feared I’d start a war just with the hate in my eyes.
“Call her.” The youngest Mancini Matteo’s face had never looked more serious. The jokester typically wore a cement smile.
The grave look on his face had me pulling my phone out of my pocket without hesitation. The shrill ring of the phone was a tease as time slowed. My pulse quickened, my visioned started to tunnel. I had been wrong. This was fear. My fear leading me down a path to question the very men in this room with me. Was it all a ruse to get me vulnerable. Had I been the one to put Eleanor in the center of danger?