"Gladly." He replied, standing and pulling Nico's mother off the sofa. "If you need anything, Emilia, don't hesitate to come get me." His eyes bore into mine, and I nodded.
Trixie yawned, and I looked over to her. "You don't have to babysit me. Go to bed."
"No, I need to keep you company," her mumbling words made me roll my eyes. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes again.
"You won't be much company when all you're going to do is snore. I'm serious, I'm fine. Go to bed." I pointed at the stairs, and she nodded.
Reaching for my phone, I checked the messages, but there was nothing. Sighing, I opened the reading app, but even a cowboy romance book couldn't keep my thoughts from drifting to the mafia boss I was in love with.
Tossing my phone down on the sofa, I wandered into the kitchen. This place was a baker’s dream come true. Rifling through the cupboards, I smiled as I looked at the pile of ingredients before me. Chocolate chip cookies would be the perfect way to keep my mind occupied.
As if on autopilot, I added ingredients, mixed the cookies, and placed them on the cookie sheet, making sure I had enough dough left over to drown my sorrows while I waited for them to bake in the oven. The scent of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen, comforting and warm.
I didn't have to bake one batch at a time; the four ovens in this place let me get it done quickly. So quickly, I realized that not much time had passed. Dipping my spoon into the mixing bowl, I grabbed a scoop of the raw cookie dough and set out to figure out what I could make next.
Preferably something that would take longer, maybe something that didn't taste just as good raw as cooked. And something I could make in my sleep.
Pulling the bag of flour out of the drawer, I set it on the counter with a thud and set to work on the one thing I could take my aggression out on. Bread. Kneading dough until my arms ached seemed like exactly what I needed.
"Oh my dear, I saw the light on, and I thought I forgot to turn it off." Camilla walked into the kitchen and looked around. Flour dusted every surface, mixing bowls stacked in the sink, the air heavy with the smell of baking.
"I promise I will clean up when I'm done." I looked at her, and I watched her eyes scan my body. The slight frown on her face let me know I must look like a walking snowman. Flour covered my borrowed sweater, streaked my face.
"I trust you will, dear. I will leave you to it. Goodnight." She said, reaching out to grab one of the cooling cookies. "These are wonderful," she exclaimed, and as quickly as she'd arrived, she was gone again.
Clapping my hands over the sink, I grabbed a bowl off the oven door and wiped the flour down the front of myself before reaching out and turning on the water to wash my dishes. Glancing at the clock, I worried that this was taking so long. These small families shouldn't have put up much of a fight for Nico and his army of men, but why wasn't he back yet? The kitchen smelled like Christmas, cinnamon and sugar and warmth, but all I felt was cold dread.
CHAPTER 26
NICO
Soft white lightglowed from almost every window of my home as I drove up the drive. It was a strange feeling to come home and have someone waiting for me.
My car pulled to a stop, and I got out before my driver could open the door. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night, Walter. Please apologize to Camilla for keeping you out so late.” Slapping the man on the back, he chuckled as I walked toward my front door.
A glow from the kitchen made me stop for a moment, but I was tired, covered in blood, and I needed to see my wife. I needed to make sure she was okay.
I could still hear the threats to her life echoing through my head as if someone was behind me whispering them in my ear. How the Cardones knew she was in danger was something that even my worst torture methods hadn’t been able to make them talk. So either they were just blowing smoke up my ass, or they’d been paid handsomely to keep it quiet. There was always the other alternative: they were being threatened, but that wasn’t exactly something I was overly concerned about.
My steps on the marble floor of the foyer echoed, and I wasn’t sure why tonight this place felt emptier than it had for a long time, even though it was filled with my family. Running my hand over the notch in the newel post, I thought back to the stories of how the two generations before me fought to save this family.
The bullet hole was never fixed and served as a reminder to me of what I had to do to keep the people in my life safe. It also reminded others who came to this house of the lengths we’d go to to protect this place.
Our room was empty, the bed turned back, but my beautiful wife wasn’t in it. The bathroom door was ajar, and that wasn’t like her, so I didn’t even have to look in there. Her closet was empty, well, other than the clothes she’d amassed over the last few weeks at a rapid pace, thanks to Letty.
Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I dialled her number and groaned when I heard it buzz from the dresser. I hated to send a mass text this late at night, but I needed to know where she was.
Me: Where’s my wife?
Nobody responded immediately, and my anger rose. She was supposed to be protected in this house, and not one person knew where she was?
Me: WHERE IS MY WIFE?
Suddenly, the bubbles popped up.
Camilla: She’s in the kitchen, sir.
