Once we reached the gate, he pushed it open and stood back for me to walk in front of him. By the time I reached the peeling paint on what should have been a bright red door, my hand was shaking as I attempted to put my key into the lock. Finally, I managed to drive it home and hoped he hadn’t noticed my mini breakdown due to nerves and the anxiety that seemed ever present.
I pushed open the door as quietly as I could, knowing that Pearl would sometimes hear me come home and would pop around to see if I was okay, and it was far too soon for me to face her. As the door closed behind the two of us, I dropped my keys onto the small, fake antique corner table that my aunty had loved so much and strode purposefully into the kitchen.
‘Coffee?’ I tried to casually push into the suddenly tense atmosphere.
‘Black please,’ I heard him say, as his voice disappeared into the living area.
‘That’s lucky,’ I said under my breath as I filled the kettle with water and placed it onto the stove in front of me. I knew there was no milk in the fridge and couldn’t have offered anything other than black anyway.
Silence engulfed my tiny condo.
I tried to imagine just what he was seeing as he looked around my sparse living area. Anything that had held any value, I had already pawned in the local shop in Sunrise, the cheap area of Vegas that I resided in. I knew all that would meet his probably disapproving eyes were an almost antiquated reclining chair, a couple of upright chairs against one wall and a low table. Even the walls had rectangular dirty marks on them, left behind from when I had taken down and sold a couple of prints that I’d treated myself to when things were a little better for me.
The kettle, starting to produce its low whistle to let me know it was nearly ready, made me jump. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with water. As soon I felt the cool glass on my lips my body went into overdrive, my mouth was suddenly more parched than it had ever felt before and I drank it all down, relishing the way the liquid quelled the burning in my throat. The whistle became high-pitched, bringing me to. I hastily refilled my glass and then grabbed an oven glove to lift the kettle off the stove.
‘Thank you, Pearl,’ I whispered as I placed a spoon full of coffee into an “I love Vegas” mug. I knew that behind the scenes she was making sure I had the bare minimum in my condo to get by and that she had recently topped up my coffee. ‘What would I do without you?’
Tears pricked the back of my eyes as I thought about leaving her behind here for a year. She had become like a mom to me over the years and I knew we relied on each other.
What will she do without me to look after?
Trying to lose my melancholy thoughts I concentrated on stirring the coffee, watching as the boiling water whooshed around in its confines. Then, letting out a soft sigh, I picked up the mug and my glass of water and tried hard to walk confidently into the living area.
‘Here you…’ I stopped speaking immediately as I took in the sight that met my eyes.
There resting asleep on the dilapidated recliner chair was the man I had only two hours ago agreed to marry. Even asleep his presence filled the whole of my living space.
His suit jacket had been discarded, his tie had been loosened and his gun, still in its shoulder holster, was laid out in his lap. I cast my eyes down to see that his shoes were in a heap on the floor beneath him. The man who had most of Vegas at his beck and call, the man who I was sure owned every luxury known to the rich, and who I doubt ever relaxed, looked totally at ease in my tiny, rundown home, in a comfortable but broken armchair. I couldn’t help the smile that stretched my mouth from cheek to cheek.
But the best of it was his face. I leant myself against my doorframe and studied him a little harder, not knowing when I’d ever get another chance. Still holding the hot drink in my hands, I started to sip at the coffee that I’d originally made for him.
Nico Morello was attractive in a way you normally only read about in romance books. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, with risk thrown in for good measure. He was over six foot, probably by about a couple of inches. His shoulders were broad, and it was fairly obvious that he took good care of himself by the way his shirt stretched across his firm chest. His face had lost the look of total indifference he normally showed to the world, it was instead peaceful and dare I say it relaxed? His short dark brown hair was messed up and a five o’clock shadow had covered his jaw, which suited him even though it concealed the cleft in his chin. There was no getting away from the danger that surrounded him, but I could also sense that there was a different man residing under the mantle he had created to exist in his world, and the two sides of him totally captivated me.
I closed my eyes momentarily as I recognised the long forgotten feeling of butterflies in my stomach and my heart was skipping happily, from just being able to look at him. My fingers longed to touch him, so I made myself stand stock still and hoped that the feeling would ebb away soon.
I took another sip of the strong coffee, knowing that it would most definitely keep me awake today.
I shook my head laughing silently at the excuse.
I had been lying to myself for years about my addiction to gambling, so I recognised another lie as soon as the thought swept through my head.
Be truthful.
I probably wasn’t going to be able to sleep this morning anyway, knowing he was in here, because I already knew that spending a year with this man would most definitely prove to be an even greater challenge than giving up gambling.
I knew without a doubt, even after only spending a few hours in his company, that if the man continued to surprise me with his kindness and concern for my well-being, Nico Morello could prove to be my greatest ever addiction.
Chapter Nine
Nico
I cracked open one eye and took in my surroundings.
The tiny room, which was badly in need of decorating, met my eye and feeling a crick in my neck I immediately remembered where I must have fallen asleep.
How the hell had I even slept?
I moved one hand from behind my head feeling the inflexibility that a night in the chair had given it and placed it over the top of the gun on my lap. Pausing to listen to anything I could make out in the small space around me, I pressed the hard comfort of my gun and the leather that housed it into my morning wood, just trying to get a moment of reprieve before I saw Barbara again.
I listened for a few seconds, to find to my relief that the condo was completely silent.
Time to make a couple of calls.
I knew I needed to put a few plans together before she woke up and panicked at our impending marriage. I moved to the side to reach for my jacket and cursed under my breath at the state of it as I picked it up to retrieve my cell. Hearing the chair underneath me groan and reverberate its protest into the silence of her small living space put me on edge, worried that I just might have disturbed her too. The screen flashed on and I saw it was a little before one in the afternoon, which surprised the hell out of me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept for over four hours straight and I’d never passed out in an old reclining chair.
Not wanting to disturb Barbara before I’d put some of the plans I knew we needed into place, I eased myself off the chair, not bothering to close it up in case it made even more noise. I wrapped my gun up inside my jacket and left them on top of my shoes and then made my way out to what I thought must be the kitchen.