ADRIAN
The moment I stepped away from Isabella, the warmth of her skin still lingering on my fingertips, my phone vibrated again. Persistent. Urgent.
I didn’t want to answer it.
Not now.
Not when she’d finally looked at me like she wanted me.
Not when her breath had hitched and her lips had parted and I’d been one second away from kissing her — really kissing her — for the first time in years.
But the caller ID froze me.
Mamma.
I exhaled sharply and answered after I had a fair distance from Isabella. “Mamma?”
Her voice came through in a rush — frantic, breathless, terrified.
“Adrian, it’s Bianca. She’s gone.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean gone?”
“She ran away. She—” Her voice cracked. “She’s in Mexico.”
I closed my eyes, jaw clenching so hard it hurt. “Where in Mexico
