Page 71 of Boardwalk Queen

AVA

Happy birthday to me.

Except it wasn’t all that happy, another day spent with the staff, who were only here because my father paid them. Dad confessed to his crimes before dinner, as my guys had hoped. Nico admitted to listening to my phone calls and reading my texts and emails.

I wasn’t mad.

From the start, I assumed they were tracking my every movement. That was the reason I never spoke about business over the phone. I never even mentioned it to Bella in our daily chats.

I sat at the head of the table in the main dining room. Tears pricked my eyes, so desperately wanting to fall. But I slapped on a happy face. Even though my guys weren’t going to kill me, they would probably whack my dad. That was how they handled business.

Dad was a coward.

I knew he would run.

The bastard fucked me over, stole my money, and left me here to rot. Not much of a surprise. He only did shit that suited him.

“Happy birthday, Ava, happy birthday to you,” Enzo and Angelina finished singing in unison with the staff.

The three-tiered cake was more appropriate for a wedding, not my twenty-second birthday. It was a sweet gesture. But as I stared at the monstrosity before me, my chest ached from losing my parents. Angelina was on my right, Enzo on my left. They were the only people who kept me going when I was home. A handful of staff crowded around the table. They clapped and wished me a happy birthday.

Enzo smacked a kiss on my cheek. “Happy birthday, Ava.”

Angelina kissed my other cheek and whispered, “Buon compleanno, mi amore,” in my ear, which translated to happy birthday, my love in Italian.

I kissed her back. “Thanks, Ang.”

“How about some champagne to celebrate?”

After we drank and ate cake, I got up from the table and went into the kitchen. I swiped a water bottle from the refrigerator, and Enzo was standing across from me when I spun around.

“You’re upset,” he said.

I forced a smile for his benefit. “It’s nothing.”

He inched closer, a warm smile on his face. “I know you miss your parents.” Enzo extended his arm toward the living room. “Your father left presents for you to open. How about we do that next?”

Before I could answer him, a loud bang echoed. A shiver ran down my arms. It sounded like it came from the front of the house.

Enzo hooked his arm around me and opened the pantry door. “There’s a secret entrance.” He moved a few boxes of pasta out of the way and then hit a small latch.

He pushed on the wooden shelf, which swung into the wall, exposing a secret passage. We’d lived in this house for over two decades, and I had never known about this hidden door.

Gunshots sounded, one after the other.

Enzo tapped my back. “Get in.”

“Where does this lead?” I choked out, my voice trembling with each word I spoke.

Enzo removed a gun from the waistband of his pants. “To the wine cellar.”

Since when does he carry a weapon?

And what kind of chef needs a gun?

“Hide in the wine cellar. I have to round up the staff. We’ll meet you downstairs.” His palm tapped my back with more force. “Go. Now. There’s no time to waste, Ava.”

I took one last look at Enzo and stepped into the dark passageway.

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