Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 757(@200wpm)___ 606(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Halfway there, Flavio jogged my way, looking stressed. “Aurora!” he exclaimed. He picked up his phone. “I found her. She’s fine.” He stuffed the phone into his back pocket and grabbed my shoulders. “Why did you run off? Something could have happened to you.”
For a second, I wondered if Nevio already considered Flavio to be one of the guys I wasn’t supposed to be around, but considering he was my cousin, I doubted it. I hated that Nevio’s comment had the power to steer my actions. He had absolutely no right to tell me what to do.
“Aurora?”
I blinked, then gave Flavio a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. I’m sorry about running off, but the fire alarm and all the commotion gave me anxiety. It brought back bad memories from…you know…” I allowed Flavio to draw his own conclusions.
He nodded grimly. The night of the ambush probably haunted quite a few people in the Famiglia and the Camorra.
“Still, you shouldn’t risk anything. This was dangerous. You need to stay with a bodyguard at all times,” he said as he guided me back to the hospital. I’d never been in danger. From the moment I’d realized Nevio was in New York and on my trail, I’d been safe. He would protect me in his own twisted way.
Like every morning, Valerio drove me to work. Today, my spirits were particularly high as I hadn’t seen Nevio in the past two days. Maybe he’d really listened and returned to Las Vegas. Additionally, my internship with the Famiglia’s doctor was a lot of fun, even if I wasn’t allowed to be present during everything. Not so much because they worried that I couldn’t handle it, but because I could still feel weariness despite the fresh peace treaty between the Camorra and Famiglia.
And like every morning, we stopped at Valerio’s favorite coffee shop. I liked coffee, but Valerio was positively addicted to it. I doubted he needed it to wake up in the morning because he was one the most nauseatingly cheerful morning persons I’d ever encountered. His words about being grumpy in the mornings had never proven true. Or maybe he was just grumpy deep inside.
We got out of his red Porsche 911, which he’d parked at the curb right in front of the shop. The moment we entered the shop, I noticed that Marcos wasn’t behind the counter. This was the first time he didn’t take our orders. Valerio gave our usual orders to the girl behind the counter. Something in her face told me something was up. Her skin was blotchy, and eyes teary as if she’d recently cried.
“Where’s Marcos?” I asked casually, not wanting Valerio to draw the wrong conclusions. I wasn’t interested in the barista. I simply liked his flirting because it lifted my ego.
Valerio slanted a look at me, blue eyes narrowed in consideration. If I’d thought I would have more freedom away from home, I was thoroughly mistaken. The Famiglia had strict rules that even the easygoing Valerio paid attention to.
The girl blanched. She turned around to where her manager was talking to someone on the phone, looking upset. “He was found dead in an alley last night. That’s why he didn’t show up to work this morning. The police were here to question us before we even opened the store.”
I swallowed hard. Was this a coincidence? What if Nevio was still in New York? Maybe he’d decided Marcos had looked at me the wrong way, and suddenly, he was dead.
I felt sick. Even without any proof, my instincts told me Nevio had been involved in this. Because of me. I didn’t understand any of this. What was this for him? A sick game?
“Do they know what happened?” I asked, trying to sound sympathetic but not as freaked out as I was. Considering Valerio’s very intent expression, I probably wasn’t doing a very good job.
The girl glanced at her manager again, then whispered, “The police think it was a mugging. He was stabbed, and his wallet was on the ground beside him.”
“Stabbed? Just once, or did he have any other injuries?”
Knowing Nevio’s inability to control himself, a single stab wound seemed odd, but maybe that had been his intent. Maybe this controlled kill showed that he didn’t really care about me, wasn’t really deeply emotionally involved, but acted out of a sick sense of possessiveness.
The girl looked uncomfortable. It wasn’t normal to ask these kinds of questions as a bystander. Tomorrow, the police would probably want to question me because of my suspicious behavior, but I needed to find out more.
“I think he was stabbed once, but I didn’t ask for details.” The way she said it made it clear I shouldn’t have asked either.
“I should probably…uhhh…get your order before my manager notices the long line,” she said quickly, then turned on her heel and began to work on our beverages.