3. Nic

3

NIC

I ’ve been in a pisser of a mood since dragging my ass out of bed and to the airport in New York to fly to Chicago. For years, I’ve been looking for ways to get rid of my father without actually having to kill him. It’s moments like this, when he drags me into his depravity, that I imagine putting a bullet in his brain.

Instead, I’ve flown to Chicago and a driver brings me to the Rinella mansion.

“What a fucking waste of time,” I mutter as I exit the car and walk up to the house. I swear I don’t understand my father. It’s not just his vile sexual habits. The man is reckless in his appetite for power. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s having cognitive issues because he hadn’t always been rash and irresponsible in business and life. Or maybe he’s just gotten away with it for so long, he feels emboldened and invisible. The way I see it, it’s only a matter of time before he implodes, and when he does, he’ll bring us all down.

The butler lets me in, and I turn my focus on the task at hand, but it curdles my stomach. The thought of his marrying a girl young enough to be his granddaughter is disgusting. It's bad enough that he's forcing this poor girl into a loveless marriage, but I know what he plans to do to her. I push the bile rising in my throat back down.

As I’m led to Vincenzo Rinella’s office, I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this errand than meets the eye. My father's never been one for simple gestures. There's always an angle, always a hidden agenda. I just can't figure out what it is this time. Perhaps this will be my opportunity to find out.

I straighten my tie one last time, plastering on the mask of the cool, collected underboss. Whatever happens in the next few minutes, I can't let them see how much I despise this entire situation. It's time to play my part and get this over with.

I enter the study, my eyes quickly scanning the room before settling on Vincenzo Rinella. He's seated behind an imposing desk, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back, his dark eyes piercing as they meet mine, a hint of surprise in them.

"Niccolo Nardone," he says, his voice carrying a hint of displeasure. "I expected your father to come himself."

I feel a flicker of irritation. As if I want to be here any more than he wants me here. The urge to push back, to tell him exactly what I think of this whole arrangement… I mean, what sort of motherfucker sells his teenage daughter to a seventy-year-old sexual deviant? Vincenzo Rinella, apparently. But I swallow down my disgust, reminding myself that I have to follow through to protect Gia and the kids.

I shrug. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m offended. Do I not warrant such respect?”

Fucking hell. I don’t have time for this shit. “Shall I return home empty-handed and let my father know you expect him to leave his business in New York to appease you?”

He grunts, clearly not satisfied with my words or my attitude. If I were in his shoes, I'd be insulted too. But that’s part of the game. If Vincenzo wants whatever deal he set up with my father, he’ll endure this afront.

"Well," Vincenzo says after a moment, "I suppose you'll have to do. Bella should be down shortly. I am concerned that she be married before your father… consummates their relationship.”

I have an urge to strangle Rinella. He clearly knows what sort of man my father is, what he’ll subject his daughter to, and yet, he’s handing her over like a wad of old cash.

“She’ll be staying with my sister until the wedding. Will you be attending?”

“Of course. This is a big event. Chicago’s finest family with New York’s.”

I resist rolling my eyes. Rinella is a powerful man, but not Chicago’s finest. I have to wonder why my father is doing business with him and not Don Caruso, the head of The Chicago Outfit. Or even the D’Amatos who have a better reputation for smarts, money making, and avoiding prosecution. My guess is that Rinella came to my father with the deal.

“I’ll be there in time for the first shipment to arrive in New York,” he says.

I nod, my mind racing to sort out the deal my father made. My father has docks in Manhattan, but my guess is that Rinella is referring to the ones he has in Buffalo. The question is, what is the shipment? My father's never mentioned to me this aspect of our business with the Rinellas before.

"Of course," I reply smoothly, not letting my confusion show.

Vincenzo leans back in his chair, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Good. Your father assured me that this would be his focus. It's a significant investment for both our families."

Right. He’ll forgive my father for not focusing on being here to pick up his daughter as long as the business is his priority. I understand the world I live in. Money and power are the top goals. But shouldn’t family count for something beyond a pawn in a business deal?

I force myself to relax, to maintain the facade of the dutiful son and competent underboss.

“You can be sure your shipment will be taken care of.”

A knock interrupts us.

“Enter,” Rinella bellows.

A middle-aged woman enters, looking tired and timid. She must be the wife, beaten down by a life with this motherfucker.

“Bella is ready.” She glances at me, her eyes registering surprise. She must think I look great for a seventy-year-old man.

“Send her down,” Rinella says, not bothering to introduce me.

She nods and exits the office. I wonder if Bella Rinella will be like her. If so, my father will eat her up and spit her out. She won’t last long.

Fuck. I’ve been brought into this, making me complicit in this poor girl’s destruction. I want more than anything to walk out of there and let my father deal with this. Or better yet, take the girl and send her somewhere safe, away from both our fathers. But I can’t. Not unless I can find a way to send Gia and the kids away as well. How can I protect Bella without endangering my sister and her kids?

Moments later, the door opens. This is it. In a few moments, I'll come face to face with the girl whose fate has become inexplicably entwined with my own.

A woman appears and for long moments, I can only stare at her. She looks like she stepped out of one of Gia’s fashion magazines. She’s wearing black jeans that fit long, curvy legs. Her cream-colored sweater looks soft, probably cashmere, as does the coordinating scarf.

Her dark, wavy hair frames a face that's both innocent and striking. Her eyes are large, almond-shaped, giving her a doe- eyed innocence, but looking into their stormy gray depths, I see fire and intelligence. They scan the room, taking everything in with a sharp awareness that belies her youth.

As she moves toward us, I notice the graceful gait of her walk, the soft swell of her tits beneath her sweater. I force myself to look away, disgusted by my own reaction. This girl is meant for my father, for God's sake.

I’m not a man who is led by his dick. Sure, I notice attractive women. I fuck them sometimes. But I’m always in control, even over my dick. So, I’m caught off guard by the visceral response I have to her.

“This is my daughter, Bella,” Rinella introduces. “Bella, this is Niccolo Nardone, Don Nardone’s son. He’ll escort you to New York.”

She studies me, and something in her eyes has me captivated. There's a fire in her eyes that speaks to intelligence and perhaps defiance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nardone.” Her voice is clear and steady. No trembling, no shy glances at the floor. She meets my gaze head-on, a hint of challenge in her expression.

“You too, Miss Rinella.” I’ve never envied my father anything until this moment. I’m intrigued by this woman who is too young to have such knowledge and wisdom in her eyes. “Are you prepared for the journey ahead?”

A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, I'm more than prepared. I've been looking forward to this new chapter in my life." I can see she understands her role, but as I study her, I can also see there’s more to her lurking beneath the surface.

It’s a fucking shame that this new chapter will likely break her. “Have you been to New York before?”

She shakes her head. “My sister has when… well… that was a few years ago.”

I’m reminded that this original deal had been made with her older sister. I glance at the woman standing near the door, whose features suggest she’s related to Bella and likely the woman my father first contracted to marry.

I'm torn between admiration and unease for Bella. On one hand, her spirit is refreshing. She’s not just a Stepford wife. Nor is she a vapid gold digger, the other type I often find myself around. On the other hand, I can’t imagine that spirit will survive under my father’s abusive and oppressive rule.

“I’m sure you need to get back to New York,” her father says, clearly ready to be on to the next step of this deal.

I nod. “My plane is waiting.”

I watch Bella interact with her family, saying her goodbyes. I can see she’s close to her sister. With her parents, she’s more reserved, playing the part of a dutiful daughter. It suggests she knows how to compartmentalize and protect herself emotionally. Maybe if she’s good at her role, she’ll fare better with my father than his other wives. Who am I kidding? This vibrant young woman is about to have her spirit crushed. And I'm the one delivering her to that fate.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The guilt gnaws at me. I too have always been able to compartmentalize, to separate business from emotion. Even before meeting her, I struggled at the idea of bringing her to my father, but now, after seeing her, meeting her, something about her is making this task extraordinarily painful.

I walk her to the car, searching my brain for a way out, a loophole that could save her from my father's clutches. But every scenario I run through my head ends in disaster.

I assist Bella into the back seat of the car, my hand barely grazing hers as I help her in. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through me, and I quickly pull away, uncomfortable with my own reaction.

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes smile at me, bright and hopeful. Guilt flares in my gut like a fucking inferno. Now I’m pissed. Why did my father have to put me in this position? Why is this woman getting under my skin? She’s just a kid. I’m practically old enough to be her father, but these feelings aren’t at all paternal. Protective, yes, but not in a fatherly way.

The driver takes her bag and puts it in the trunk. I get into the passenger seat in front, hoping that by not sitting next to her, I can gain the distance I need to fulfill my duty.

As the driver heads up the driveway, I catch a glimpse of Bella in the rearview mirror. She's looking out the window, a small smile playing on her lips as she watches her family home disappear from view. There's an eagerness in her expression that makes my stomach churn. She has no idea what she's getting into.

I turn my gaze to the front, my eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to ignore the presence of the young woman in the back seat.

Suddenly, her voice cuts through the quiet. "Mr. Nardone, I just realized something."

I glance at her in the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. "What's that, Miss Rinella?"

"Well," she says, a hint of amusement in her tone, "Once I marry your father, I'll be your stepmother."

I can’t explain why those words impact me the way they do. Anger and resentment boil over. “You’re not the first stepmother I’ve had. You’ll probably not be the last.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

In the mirror, I see Bella's face fall, the light in her eyes dimming. She looks away, out the window. I’m a fucking asshole. She's just a young girl, excited about her new life, however misguided that excitement might be. And here I am, crushing her spirit before she even reaches New York. Then again, maybe I’m doing her a service. She needs to know that however difficult her life was with her father, it will be a million times worse with my father.

I sniff and turn my gaze forward again, deciding I’ve done her a favor. Nardones are sick bastards. The sooner she understands that, the sooner she’ll be prepared for living in hell.