Page 19 of Nico (Belles & Mobsters 2)

“How are you feeling?” I asked him. “How did your check-up go?”

Grandma Carter strode to us, and she wrapped her arms around me, pressing a loud kiss on my cheek.

“Doctor said his cholesterol is good and all his results came back positive.”

“That’s great,” I told them in relief. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Grandpa Carter asked, worry lacing his voice.

I nodded my head. “Yes, I’ll be fine,” I told him with an assurance that I didn’t feel. It was healthy to spend time away from your children, at least that was what I kept hearing.

A few minutes later, I watched them all drive away, waving at them as they passed me and waiting until the car disappeared from my view. The Aston Martin still sat there, parked, and for a moment I swore I saw a dark shadow.

Jesus, stop with paranoid thoughts, I scolded myself.

With a heavy sigh, I went back into the house. At a loss of what to do with myself, I strode into the kitchen, my safe haven. This beloved house wouldn’t be ours much longer. I’d have to find a way to tell William’s parents and the girls.

My eyes traveled over the light kitchen counters and the cabinets. It was where I spent most of my time. I loved this room, with large windows that overlooked the bay and light cabinets that combined with natural light made this room a perfect kitchen. William and I had spent so many hours hunting for the cabinets that we could both agree on. I wanted light; he wanted natural wood. We settled on off white cabinets with the gray-striped white marble countertops.

Built with love.We built this house with love. Despite disparities and his one-time infidelity, I couldn’t forget that.

Slowly, as if saying goodbye to my kitchen, I started pulling ingredients out of the fridge and pantry for chocolate chip and gingerbread cookies. I wanted to enjoy this place for as long as I could. Besides, it was my stress reliever - baking, cooking, making homemade ice cream.

It was only ten in the morning, and I probably wouldn’t eat any of the cookies, but I had nothing else to do. Although I loved our Fridays off most of the time, today I regretted it. Going into work would have kept my mind off things.

After washing my hands, I grabbed the cutting board and fresh ginger, then started chopping it when the doorbell sounded.

“Come in,” I yelled, thinking it had to be William’s parents coming back because they forgot something. Something was always forgotten. A baby doll, favorite stuffed animal, a coloring book… you name it.

I started cutting rhythmically, the repetitive movement already easing the tension in my shoulders. It must be the Italian in me that enjoyed tinkering in the kitchen. My girlfriends in high school cringed at it, screaming feminism. But I loved it and refused to give it up. Even in the name of feminism.

I smiled and raised my head, all the while continuing my chopping.

“Did you guys forget-” My voice trailed off and my heart stopped for a fraction of a second before it resumed beating frantically while my pulse skyrocketed.

No, no, no.This couldn’t be.

Nico Morrelli stood at the entrance of my kitchen with two men at his side, looking like a dark shadow in his expensive Armani suit, not a single speck of dust on it. His presence sucked the oxygen out of my lungs and drained my brain of all thoughts.

How does he know where I live?Duh, those people probably dig up dirt on anyone. An address would be a piece of cake.Oh my God, Nico Morrelli is in my house!

I squeezed my eyes shut, every single drop of my blood draining out of me. This had to be a nightmare. This was what I have been fearing for the past sixteen months. Yes, I fucking touched myself with images of this man, but he had to remain in my head, not physically be in my house.

Releasing a shaky breath, I opened my eyes, all the while praying that my mind was playing tricks on me. Our eyes connected, that gray stare sending shivers down my spine. I found it hard to breathe, my heart raced so hard.

This man didn’t belong in my house, this neighborhood, my life.

“Do you let anyone just walk into your home, Bianca?” My name rolled off his tongue like sex dipped in sin. Except he was here to kill me. I knew it as well as I knew my name. It was time to settle the debt.

Nico’s eyes were on me, watching me carefully, waiting for me to crack or do something stupid. Too late! I have done something stupid sixteen months ago; I spent all his money. The only thing left to do was to crack.

My fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the knife, my joints complaining at the grip. The tension in me blazed, threatening to burn me to ashes. I didn’t want to die. I should apologize, explain, beg… anything. Instead, I continued staring at him, unable to utter a single word.

“Do you?” he drawled, repeating his question.

“No,” I rasped, my voice full of fear even to my own ears.

Nico’s eyes raked over me, and I wondered if he was trying to determine how he would kill me. I imagined it probably wouldn’t be a difficult task for him. I was fairly petite; he could probably hide my body in his trunk.

---