Page 3 of Nico (Belles & Mobsters 2)

Glancing up at the building, I noted the rendezvous spot with my girlfriend, Angie. She convinced me this was a good idea, just to get away for a bit and have a little break from the twins. I wasn’t so sure.

The last fifteen months had been hard. I barely socialized anymore. Scratch that, I didn’t socialize at all. I avoided any and all events. Even the pre-K ones from the girls’ school. For a multitude of reasons. I was aware I withdrew more and more into my own thoughts and found too much comfort in my routine. It was a miracle Angie convinced me to meet her. But then, she’d always had that personality to pull you out. It was one of her biggest assets - if only she would see it in herself.

Since William’s death, I lost touch with a lot of my friends… even John. Especially him. I hadn’t decided yet if I was protecting him or myself. He stopped the ridiculous side gig the moment my husband died. Which was right after that dreadful night. Neither one of them was called again.

To them it meant they got away with it.

To me it signified they had, I couldn’t even think their name, realized William and John couldn’t be trusted.

My seclusion was a combination of my grief and fear of the consequences from that stormy night, just a few weeks before William’s death. It rendered me paranoid. Grief and paranoia were a deadly combination, if you asked me. The only thing that kept me sane were my twins, and the routine I got my life into.

Either way, here I was, back in the social world. So, I might as well get it over with. Hopefully, she wouldn’t nag me for another few months to hang out again. Glancing at the clock on the side of the building, I marked the time.

“Not too bad,” I mumbled to myself as I pushed through the glass door of The Lafayette, an overly fancy restaurant. Speaking out loud had become a side effect of no adult interaction. “Only five minutes late.”

Ignoring the presence behind me, I smoothed my hair and my shirt, aware that I didn’t look my best. My hair was damp from the drizzle. My mood was damp too, but I wouldn’t go there now.

Glancing down at my state of appearance, I frowned. It wasn’t meant for this restaurant where everyone looked pristine. I was wearing a pair of white jeans with a pink t-shirt and a pair of pink chucks. I thought it was an adequate wardrobe for lunch, but I realized now that I was underdressed.

Nothing I can do about it now,I told myself.

I skimmed around the restaurant, searching through people. This place mostly consisted of men in suits. And a few women in Chanel dresses. According to Angie, the rich and powerful ate here. Exactly what I wasn’t in the mood for. I couldn’t blame my friend’s determination to marry well. After all, financial stability was important.

Angie pretty much screened her boyfriends. She and John used to be an item, until she determined he wasn’t rich enough. It wasn’t as if he was poor, but she had much bigger aspirations and standards.

Her words, not mine.

I just wanted my mortgage paid and a loving husband. Everything else I could figure out somehow. I lost a loving husband, and the unpaid mortgage was looming over my head. Seems neither one of us was getting what we wanted.Yep, life is a bitch.

Angie told me once that in order to survive a lifelong marriage, she needed lots of money, so if she needed to get away, she could. She was right about one thing; marriages were hard and required a lot of work. And forgiveness. The latter was hard, but mistakes were bound to happen in a relationship. The question was how big would they be, and where the limit was for forgiveness. Oddly enough, the complications of life somehow didn’t register despite all the glaring signs everywhere.

Money, love, forgiveness, heartaches, danger.

Maybe Angie had issues that nobody knew about as well. God knew I did. Angie and I grew up in similar neighborhoods. It wasn’t as if we went without, but sometime in high school, money became the most important thing in her life. After going through the hell of the last two years, I couldn’t quite argue with her point of view anymore.

It is one of the most important things in anyone’s life, but I didn’t learn that lesson until William’s illness.

Life was a fuckery. A widow at twenty-six, four-year-old twins to care for, on the verge of bankruptcy, and a foreclosure threatening. So no, I couldn’t argue with her on the importance of money and a husband that had all the right kind of assets. It just seemed I had no stomach to do the same.

Spotting her waving at me with a wide smile on her face, I rushed forward towards her. Her beautiful blonde hair fell loose to her mid-back. It made me feel even less adequate. My mind was just as frazzled as my current state of hair and wardrobe.

I continued towards her table in the furthest corner of the room when the waiter stopped me.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he stepped in front of me and lightly pressed a palm against my shoulder. His damn uniform looked more expensive and put together than my outfit today. “This is a private club, and it’s for members only.”

Immediately, more than one pair of eyes darted to me, eyeing me like an imposter.So much for trying to be invisible!

“I got that, but…”

He cut me off. “No exceptions,” he retorted, stepping closer to me. His voice sounded snarky and superior to my ears, making me feel insignificant.

Instinctively, I stepped back and slammed into a wall. Glancing over my shoulder, I realized it was not a wall. It was a tall, broad man with raven black hair, an arrogant mouth with full sensual lips, and a square jaw that spoke of determination. Shifting my body so I could see him better, my breath hitched. This man was beautiful. Hard and beautiful!

My gaze skimmed over his hard, beautiful face until I connected with his cold gray stare. Eyes a mix of stormy clouds and dark, thick lashes that would be every woman’s envy. He gave the impression of a clean-cut business man, but his posture, his eyes, spoke more of dominance and harshness. Their depths held cruelty and indifference, sending a shiver right through me.

Who is he?An unfamiliar feeling ran through me in his presence. I had a sense that I had seen him before. IknowI’ve seen him before, but where? He wasn’t a man you would ever forget. He was the type to make your panties melt and your heart race.

My gaze traveled over his rock solid chest in the dark, three piece suit. His clothes were expensive and sharp. It had to be custom-made because it fit his strong body, accentuating his towering frame. His entire outfit was just a disguise. This man didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion, or what they thought of him. He was a wolf disguised in a polished Armani suit.

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