Page 19 of Mafia Men Need Love Too
Nico had been asking himself that since he first saw River. What did she have on him? “She…fascinates me,” he admitted.
Ren sucked in air through his teeth. “That’s dangerous.”
“Coming from the man who married the woman he stalked and kidnapped, I’ll take your word for it,” he said dryly.
“All I’m saying is, be careful. Play it cool.”
Cool. Right. The one thing he hadn’t done at all since River showed up in that strip club. “I will.”
“And I will do some research into her background, because it’s my job to be a paranoid bastard,” Ren went on. “But I won’t give you any of it unless you ask me to. How’s that?”
He wanted to tell him not to bother. To not waste his time. But he didn’t. There was a reason he trusted Ren with this kind of thing. He needed to let him do his job. “Fair enough,” he said quietly.
Nico ended the call, but in the silence that followed, he started to doubt himself for the first time in, well, maybe ever. Because while he didn’t think Ren would uncover anything disturbing in River’s background, that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.
Especially to his heart, which was the one thing he didn’t have the luxury of losing to anyone.
Chapter 11
River slept like the dead after a night of subterfuge, kidnapping, reverse kidnapping, near sex trafficking, and forced engagement.
The mattress in Nico’s guest room was just that good, she supposed. Or maybe it was the bazillion-thread-count sheets. Who knew? Point was, she slept so hard she woke up momentarily confused about where she was, drooling into a pillow that probably cost a month’s rent.
Last time that happened had been after an unfortunate episode in college when someone had dared her to drink Everclear. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that early childhood education majors aren’t a rowdy bunch.
Note to whom it may concern: Do NOT drink Everclear. It’s basically lighter fluid with better PR. The burn is the same, though.
But as the events of the previous day and night started filtering their way back into her groggy brain, she became aware that something was off. It was quiet.
Too quiet.
There was light filtering through the gauzy curtains in her lavishly appointed guest room, but she hadn’t been alerted to the hour by the world’s most annoying alarm clock, which was a parrot rattling her food cup against the bars of her cage like a disgruntled inmate in an old prison movie.
Bolting upright, her gaze shot to Feather’s cage.
The door was open.
The cage was empty.
“Feather?” she called, voice tight. “Come to Momma, baby.”
No response.
With her heart in her throat, River shot out of bed to check the window. Seeing that it was closed and locked offered a small amount of comfort. Very, very small. Because while Feather escaping into the wild was the worst-case scenario she could conjure, having her baby escape into the mansion and attack random mafia men who might be milling around, armed, was a close second.
That was the visual in her head as she threw her door open and raced down the steps two at a time. She’d start her search in the foyer and work backward from there. The living room had the most windows, so maybe Feather had gone there to soak up the morning sun. No, not there. Maybe?—
River skidded to a halt in the kitchen and froze.
Nico sat at the breakfast bar, dressed for the day in a white dress shirt, black slacks, black jacket, and a pair of black leather shoes that probably cost more than her first car, casually scrolling on his phone. And on his shoulder, cooing and rubbing her head against his stubbly jaw, was Feather, still wearing her pink bedtime sweater.
She’d assumed Feather’s fascination with Nico the previous night had been a fluke. After all, Feather didn’t even like seeing men on television. She screamed when Anderson Cooper was on. She had to be sedated for wellness checkups because the only exotic pet veterinarian within a fifty-mile radius of her apartment was male, and Feather had tried to peck his eyes out on more than one occasion.
But apparently, hot mafia men were her jam, because there she sat, looking like his muscle-y shoulder had been made for her and her alone.
Great. She’d been engaged for less than 24 hours, and she was already in danger of losing her man to a more beautiful woman.
“Good morning,” Nico said, still looking at his phone. “She was yelling for bacon. I didn’t want her to wake you, so I let her out.” He glanced up. “She…”
