Entangled with the Mafia Don novel Chapter 45

Ezra's POV:

Davina. She was out there, alone, heartbroken, and barely dressed. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I grabbed my phone, her number already on speed dial, but it went straight to voicemail. Again. And again. I didn't wait. I strode straight for the garage, pulling on a jacket as I went.

"Andrea!" I barked into my earpiece as I slammed the driver's side door of my black G-Wagon. "Dispatch every available man. Sweep the city. Check every place she might go. The club, her family. I don't care how many men it takes. Just find her."

I drove like a madman, tearing through the familiar streets of L.A. My eyes scanned every alley, every bus stop, every shadowed doorway. The early morning rush had long since faded, replaced by the more languid pace of midday, then the slow creep of evening. Each minute stretched into an eternity, filled with the torment of not knowing, of imagining her hurt, her fear, her tears. The frustration was a hot, burning ember in my chest, threatening to consume me.

My men reported back, one by one, each report a fresh blow: "No sign of her at the club." "The house's empty, Ezra." My own fruitless search only intensified the despair. Where could she be? What had I done?

I was just about to dispatch yet another team to expand the search perimeter, my patience worn to a razor's edge, when my phone buzzed. It was Andrea. I snatched it up, my voice tight.

"Report."

"Ezra," Andrea's calm, steady voice replied, a stark contrast to my agitation. "I found her."

A wave of profound relief, so potent it nearly buckled my knees, washed over me. I leaned against the cold dashboard, exhaling slowly, a tremor running through my hand. "Where? Is she alright? Is she hurt?" The questions tumbled out, raw with my unspoken fear.

"She's safe, Ezra. Unharmed, physically," Andrea confirmed, and I could hear the underlying concern in his tone. "I found her near the park. She was... distressed. Crying." Andrea replied, his tone cautious. "She was quite upset. She made it very clear she doesn't want to see you."

A sharp pang went through me at the confirmation, but I pushed it down. "I know," I stated, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "I understand that. I need you to bring her back. To the mansion. Now."

Silence stretched on Andrea's end. I could almost hear his careful processing, his logical mind running through the implications. He knew what she'd said. He knew her current state. "Ezra," he finally said, his tone hesitant, bordering on insubordinate. "Are you certain? She's clearly devastated. Forcing her now might—"

"I don't care about 'might,' Andrea!" I snapped, my patience wearing thin, my control frayed. "Do you think I'm unaware of how she feels? She's heartbroken because of my father. Because of my past. She is vulnerable. She is not safe out there. She needs to be here. Under my protection. Under my roof." My voice lowered, a dark rumble. "She needs to be home."

"Understood, Ezra. She's inside now. Looks like Devlin's taking care of her." Andrea's tone held a note of quiet assurance.

"Good," I ground out, running a hand over my face. I knew Devlin would be furious with me, would protect Davina fiercely. And Davina... I had broken her. I had to fix this.

I ended the call, the relief of knowing Davina was safe warring with the cold, hard reality of the situation. She was safe, yes, but she was also gone. And I knew, with chilling certainty, that getting her back would be the hardest fight of my life.

The repercussions of canceling my engagement to Tatiana Sokolov would be swift and brutal. My father's rage was just the beginning. The Sokolovs, a powerful Russian family, were not known for their forgiveness. Breaking such a strategic alliance, especially one meant to solidify peace, and be means to forgive the Ivan incident, would be seen as a grave insult, an act of war. My father's network, built on decades of carefully cultivated relationships, would be strained. Businesses would suffer. Lives would be lost.

But in the relative quiet of my car, the weight of those consequences felt secondary to the gaping void Davina had left. I had made my choice. And I would face the storm head-on. But first, I had to devise a plan. I couldn't force her back. Not after this. I had to earn her trust again, to prove to her that she wasn't just a pawn, a debt, or a temporary conquest.

My immediate priority was to ensure her safety, which Andrea was already doing. Then, I needed to buy myself some time. I would need to manage the fallout with my father and the Sokolovs, to minimize the damage, to ensure that the war my father predicted didn't engulf Davina in its flames. I would need to show her, not just tell her, that I was serious. That she was more than just a means to an end. It wouldn't be easy. She had every right to hate me. But I would fight for her. I would fight for us.