4. Bella

4

BELLA

M y first thought at seeing Niccolo Nardone was a wish that I were betrothed to him because, wow, he’s amazingly handsome. He’s got a strong, chiseled chin and a full mouth. There's something cold about him. Calculated. He’s foreboding looking, making me wonder if he ever smiles and what he’d look like if he did.

His dark hair is worn short, but still long enough to form thick waves. His eyes seem to be a mix of green and brown… hazel? When my father introduced us, I thought I saw a flicker of interest in those eyes, but maybe I was imagining it.

He’s also not a senior citizen, like his father, although he's still much older than me. I thought it was funny that when I marry his father, Niccolo will be my stepson. He clearly doesn’t think it’s funny.

His words from a moment ago still sting. “You’re not the first stepmother I’ve had. You’ll probably not be the last.” What does he mean by that? A chill runs through me knowing the rumors about Don Nardone’s past wives. Is it possible it’s not exaggerated gossip? Or is he just being a jerk?

“Did you scare them off too?” I ask before thinking about the wisdom of being snarky to him.

He doesn't respond for a long moment. When he does, his voice is flat. "Let's not pretend this is anything other than what it is, Miss Rinella. A business arrangement."

I sink back into my seat, chastened. Fear and confusion swirl in my stomach. What has my father gotten me into?

Deciding Niccolo isn’t the chatty type, I turn my attention out the window, watching as Chicago's familiar streets roll by. The city I've called home for nineteen years is slipping away, and with it, everything I've ever known. My heart races, a mix of terror and exhilaration coursing through my veins. For the longest time, the excitement of going to New York and being out from under my father’s thumb outweighed the fear. But now, my anxiety is bigger as the reality of what’s going on truly hits me. It’s no longer an obscure plan. It’s real. I’m going to New York to marry Don Gino Nardone, a man older than my father with a scary reputation.

Ava's warnings echo in my mind, along with Nic's cold demeanor. There's so much I don't know about the Nardone family, about the world I'm entering. My mother’s explanation of sex comes back to me, and now I feel nauseous. I have to share a bed with this man. Surely, he’s too old for sex. Images of what it might be like with him touching me start to fill my head, but I quickly shake them away.

Focus on the positives , I tell myself. New York City awaits, a world of possibilities and adventures I've only dreamed about. Broadway shows, Central Park, The Met. My new life could be filled with glamor and excitement.

I clutch my purse wishing I put Ava’s burner phone there instead of in my suitcase. I wonder if I can get it out before we get on the plane.

“What the fuck!” Niccolo’s voice shatters the silence, followed by a deafening crack.

My gaze whips toward the front and I can’t process what I’m seeing. Niccolo and the driver are wrestling, their arms a tangle of limbs and fury. The car swerves one way, then the other, my body slamming into the door.

I scream, terrified of what’s going on. I’m well aware of the world I was born into, but I’ve never been thrust in the middle of it.

The car careens off the road, jolting over uneven terrain. My head smacks against the window, stars exploding behind my eyes. I taste blood, realizing I've bitten my tongue.

"Get down!" Niccolo yells. I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or the driver. Just in case, I curl into a ball on the floor, squeezing my eyes shut. This can't be happening.

Another gunshot.

Moments later, the car lurches to a stop.

“Fucking hell.” Niccolo lets out a stream of vulgarities. He peers between the front seats. “You okay?”

I nod, although I’m not entirely sure I am okay.

He exits the car and I wonder what he’s doing. What’s up with the driver? Is he dead? Is Niccolo now going to kill me too? A new wave of panic fills me as my door is yanked open.

“Do you know how to drive?” Niccolo barks at me, his face filled with fury. There's blood trickling from a cut on his forehead.

The question catches me off guard. "What?"

"Can you fucking drive?" he repeats, his voice sharp with impatience.

My mind must be short-circuiting because I find the question offensive. What does he think? I was raised without learning the basics of life, like driving? “Of course, I know how to drive. I'm not some helpless child."

“Good. Get out.”

I stumble out onto the street, nearly falling to my knees. As I try to wrap my brain around what’s happening, Niccolo opens the driver’s door and yanks him out of the car.

I nearly puke at the sight of the bloody and lifeless body. This world has always been a distant idea. I’d never seen it up close like this before. Why would anyone want to live like this?

Niccolo grunts and swears as he drags our driver toward the back of the car. For a moment I consider my options. I can run. I can get in the car and drive off without both of them. I look around, wondering why no one is stopping to help us. We're on some deserted road I don't recognize. Abandoned buildings loom on either side, their windows dark and empty. In the distance, I see the airport, but in this area there’s not another soul in sight.

“I’m your only hope for survival, Bambina. Don’t think of running if you want to live.”

I want to tell him that I’m not a baby, but right now, it seems more prudent to keep my mouth shut.

Niccolo opens the trunk, and after more grunting and swearing, he reappears, tossing my suitcase into the back seat. “Get in. We need to move.”

I move to the driver’s seat, noting the blood. I don’t want to sit where a man was just killed.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s blood?—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He takes off his coat and hands it to me. “Wipe it with this.” That’s when I notice blood on him. Not just his temple, but oozing from the left side of his chest. “Now!” he barks again, snapping me back to the moment.

I take his coat and cover the seat then climb in. I turn the key to restart the engine. "Where are we going?"

"Away from here," he growls as he climbs back into the passenger side. "Just drive. Take the brake off."

I guess he used the gear shift and parking brake to stop the car. I put the car in gear and release the parking brake. We bounce over the uneven field we stopped in and head back to the road.

“Which way?” Do we go back the way we came or keep heading west?”

“Fastest way out of here.”

I grip the steering wheel as I navigate the unfamiliar streets. Adrenaline continues to course through my veins as the events of the past minutes replay in my mind like a horrific movie I can't shut off.

"We need to find somewhere safe," Nic says, his voice tight with what I realize must be pain.

“What about my dad?—”

“No.”

I look over at him. “But?—”

“For all I know, your dad is a part of this.”

That makes no sense. My dad is an A-one jerk, but he wouldn’t try to kill me. Would he? “He wanted this deal. Why would he?—”

“He was pissed my father didn’t come. He sees it as disrespect.”

“So he’d kill us?” I’m clearly missing something here.

“He’d kill me to let my father know he’s not happy. You…” He glances at me. “If you ended up dead too, you’d just be collateral damage.”

His words send a chill so deep I’m not sure it will ever thaw. I realize the truth of his words. Me and my sisters are nothing but assets in my father’s eyes.

“I can call my sister. The D’Amatos will?—”

“Not them either.”

“Why? They’ll help?—”

“They work with your father,” he snaps. “Just fucking drive, Bella.”

I look over and see he doesn’t have his seat belt on. I have a fantasy of slamming on the brakes and sending him through the windshield.

“Fuck… I’m sorry,” he says a moment later. “I don’t know what’s going on here, and until I do, it’s just the two of us.”

I nod, trying not to let my panic or tears show.

“Do you know of any abandoned places not used by The Outfit?” he asks.

I shake my head. “You know we innocent women aren’t privy to such things.” I wince at the snark in my tone.

“Any other place you might know?”

I think, and all I can come up with is a friend from high school whose family has a cabin near a ski resort in Michigan. “I know a place in Michigan. My friend’s family owns it?—”

“Are they there now?”

“I don’t think so. I can call?—”

“No calling anyone, do you understand?”

I blink back tears. I don’t want this man to be my only hope for survival.

“How far is it?”

“Two hours or so.”

“Let’s go there. If it’s not available, maybe another place will be.”

I find my way back to Interstate 90 and head east. As I drive, I feel the walls closing in around me, my options disappearing one by one. Go home? Death. Seek help from friends or authorities? Death. Stay with this man I barely know, who's just killed someone in front of me? It seems like my only choice, but it terrifies me just as much as the alternatives.

He opens the glove box and then slams it. “Do you have napkins or tissues or something?”

That’s when I take note again of the dark stain spreading across his shirt. It's much larger now, the fabric glistening wetly.

“You're bleeding. A lot."

He grunts, pressing a hand over his chest like he’s saying the Pledge of Allegiance. "I'm fine. Keep driving."

But he's not fine. His breathing is shallow, his skin taking on a sickly gray tinge. This man, dangerous and terrifying as he is, might be dying right next to me.

"We need to get you to a hospital," I say, panic rising in my voice.

"No hospitals," he growls. "Too dangerous. Just keep driving."

This time, I’m unable to stop the tears, overwhelmed by the impossible situation. I'm trapped in a car with a wounded, possibly dying man who just killed someone. A man I’m terrified of and at the same time feel could be my only protection as it’s clear someone is out to kill us.