Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
REGINA
Time stands still, and I kind of switch to auto as I regard Desiree coolly and shrug. “Are you under the impression I am unaware of that?”
I roll my eyes, dragging every memory I possess of films like The Godfather and The Sopranos into my performance.
“Good try, Desiree, and thanks for the tip, but Nico told me everything. Of course, he did. I love him and he loves me and even in your world that counts for more than any of the wealth inside this mansion, so, if you’ll excuse me right now, it’s Christmas Eve and I have some last minute, um, gift wrapping to do.
Enjoy your eggnog and the realization that life sucks sometimes, so get over yourself. ”
I don’t wait for her to fly at me with those finger knives and make for the door, wrenching it open, my heart beating like a freaking drum, the word mafia a steady death sentence in my mind as I stumble away from the music room and the woman who has brought my house of cards crashing down.
I don’t head to the library. There is only one place in my mind, and as I stumble into Nico’s room, I slam the door shut and lean against it.
Mafia. What the freaking hell. Christmas with the mafia—how did I not see this one coming?
It’s so obvious now I’m aware, and I’m guessing my rose-colored spectacles blinded me to that.
I shift off the door, my mind scrambled, and as I head to the bathroom, something catches my attention under the bed.
That looks like–
I kneel down, peering under the bed frame, and something pink and sparkly gleams at me from the dark shadows under it.
My heart stutters as I pull the object from underneath it and as my hand closes around my phone, pain spears me directly in my sanity.
He had this all the time.
I don’t hesitate for a second and head into the bathroom, locking it behind me, and as I sit on the chair by the vanity unit, I waste no time in turning it on.
The phone must have been in Nico’s pocket and fell out when he dropped the jacket on the floor when we–
My face burns as I remember how quickly I dropped everything for him. For a criminal. For a killer.
As my phone powers up, several messages blind me, and my heart stills as Quincy’s text voice gets more furious with every one.
Reggie, please, I’m going out of my mind with worry here. Should I call the Feds, Interpol perhaps?
Reggie, call me; this is suffocating me. Are you dead? You must be if you haven’t called me already.
My heart hammers as I press her number, and she answers almost immediately.
“Is that you, Reggie?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Oh, I don’t know, possibly the freaking mafia don who I imagined had you tied up in his bed, gagged and bound.”
A prickle of apprehension mixes with lust, and I hate myself right now, Brittany’s song crashing through my mind.
Mama, I fell in love with a criminal is right because I’m sad to say, I really think I have.
I brush it aside and inject some steadiness into my tone.
“For your information, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. You and Aston of course.”
“Are you on drugs? Did he supply them? I mean, wake up, Reggie, this is an emergency.”
“Why do you think Nico is mafia, Quincy?”
I need confirmation because I am refusing to let my bubble burst before I have a chance to repair the damage.
“Aston. He was chatting at the depot about your good fortune, and the guys were horrified. Horrified, Reggie because they told Aston that everybody knew Nicholas Ravera was the son of Giovanni Ravera, the freaking head of the Ravera mafia.”
Her breathing is fast and her tone serious as she lowers her voice.
“Now, here is the plan. Aston will drive out to collect you. Tell Nico there is a family emergency and call a cab. If you can get away with it, don’t tell him at all and slip out when nobody is looking.
Aston will be waiting on the road outside.
Then we can change your name once you’re in the safe house, of course. ”
My mind buzzes with uncertainty.
“It’s not exactly around the corner; don’t be ridiculous.”
I take a deep breath and reply with certainty.
“It’s all good. It will be fine. Nico invited me and he’s a gentleman. It doesn’t matter what his family does; he has no part in that.”
Her reply causes me to wince.
“HE’S IN THE MAFIA FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!”
I feel bad because it’s obvious she is worried about me, but there is something driving away the danger.
I should have known the minute the men in black lined the red carpet and shielded him.
The way Trent approached me to clear his path and the gun nestling inside his jacket as he draped it around my shivering shoulders.
The reverence on the faces of the guests at the party and the guarded booth that kept everyone away.
My heart is heavy as I say with more bravery than I’m feeling inside. “It’s okay, honey, I’ve got this. It’s Christmas after all, the season of goodwill among men and mafia. Nothing will happen, and when the new year rings in, I’ll head back with a memory to keep me going for the rest of my life.”
“Hide your phone then, and if you are in any danger, call the Feds. In fact, program it in now so you can one-touch the call. I’m worried about you, Reggie.”
My eyes fill with tears because she is probably the only one who is, and my voice shakes as I whisper, “I love you too, Quincy. Merry Christmas, and I’ll, well, I’ll see you in the new year.”
I sign off and with a deep breath head to Google instead, putting in Nico’s name as I search for clarity.
Perhaps she’s wrong; it’s a different Ravera mafia.
How we will laugh about this but I don’t know who I am kidding because there he is.
Nicholas Ravera, on a yacht, in Saint Tropez, looking impossibly handsome in dark shades as he steps off a private jet and ever present is Trent and the rest of his security detail.
I am screwed in more ways than one, and as I power off the phone and head into the main bedroom, I do what I can to hide my newly discovered knowledge. I put the phone under the bed and turn a foolish blind eye.