Niccolaio Andretti: A Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 2)

by Parker S. Huntington

  Me: I’m just at the Paper Pelican. Are you on your way?

  Matt: Got busy. Sorry. You’re on your own.

  I felt the pinch of a headache at the base of my neck. This was the second time that Matt had stood me up at the Paper Pelican. He didn’t seem to realize that I was half paralyzed with indecision about everything that involved our wedding. I needed guidance and input from him. I couldn’t seem to get organized on a single detail and our wedding loomed a mere twelve weeks away. Maybe I could bring him some invitation samples to dinner.

  Me: Where do you want to meet for dinner?

  Another long pause before he responded.

  Matt: Stuck in a meeting. Will be home late.

  He always did this. Why didn’t he care about the wedding? We had so many things to cover and he was refusing to help. Didn’t he realize that I was over my head here? I needed his help.

  I felt slightly sick as I looked towards the counter. Why hadn’t I hired a wedding planner? Oh right, because Matt had convinced me that we would have a lot of fun planning this wedding together. I took a deep breath. I could do this. I just needed to be decisive. I squared my shoulders and walked up to the front counter. The clerk looked annoyed. We both knew that she probably wanted to start closing the store shortly.

  “I’d like to order some wedding invitations.”

  She grabbed an order sheet and then stood poised with a pen. “Do you have a wedding palette colour?”

  “Uh. Not yet.”

  “Do you know how many invitations you need?”

  I took a deep breath. Matt still hadn’t given me his guest list. “Perhaps between 50 and 200?”

  “Do you prefer a reply card and envelope or a reply postcard?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you know what kind of printing you like?”

  I felt a wave of heat wash over my body. “What are my options?”

  “Letterpress, engraving, embossing, thermography, and flat printing.”

  This was impossible. This is exactly why I needed Matt here. How could I possibly know what to pick? What did he like? What did he want? “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know what kind of paper you want?”

  My hands were curled so tight, my nails were digging into my palms. “Not yet.”

  “Do you have any idea what you want your invitations to look like?”

  This was a mistake. “I should go.”

  Indifference. “Okay. Would you like any samples?”

  “I’ll come back.”

  “Have a good night.”

  * * *

  I stood outside the store and scrubbed my face. Three freaking months until the wedding. I had no idea how we were going to get everything planned in time. I looked around the busy street. Why did everyone around me seem to have such purpose in their life and I was incapable of making even the simplest of decisions. Someone from behind almost walked over me.

  “Watch where you’re going,” the woman snarled.

  “Sorry,” I called after her.

  Matt was working late, but he needed to eat, right? I would go to his office, wait until his meeting was finished and then see if maybe he wanted to order take out. He worked far too many hours. He could afford to spend half an hour with me. With renewed determination, I walked towards his office building. I stood across the street, waiting for the light to change when I saw him walk with purpose down the steps.

  I raised my hand and waved. “Matt!”

  My voice was drowned out beneath the roar of the street.

  He walked towards a cab that was waiting. I watched as a woman got out of the cab. I couldn’t see her face, but she had long beautiful brown hair. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek before they both climbed back into the cab.

  I stood there in complete shock. The light turned green and people streamed around me. Had that really been Matt? Who was the woman?

  I swallowed hard and crossed the street, feeling my rapid heart beat in my chest. It was probably just a client. Matt was probably working a business dinner. That was all. My granny used to warn me not to borrow trouble with my imagination. She always said that it would lead to nothing good. She used to tell me that I needed to take life as it was and stop worrying about things I had no control over. It took me 15 minutes before I managed to find a cab.

  “Where to lady?”

  I gave him my address and sank back into the worn seat and stared unseeing out the dirty window. How likely was it that he would kiss a female client on the cheek? If I confronted Matt about this, he would tell me that I was being both stupid and insecure. I sighed.

  “That’s quite the sigh,” the driver said, “Tough day?”

  Our eyes met in the review mirror.

  “I just saw my fiancé get into a cab with another woman.”

  He gave me another glance. “What spooked you?”

  “Pardon me?”

  “What’s making you nervous?”

  I toed a dirty Kleenex on the floor with my sneaker. “He kissed her on the cheek. He stood me up and said he was busy working and then I saw him smiling at her and he kissed her on the cheek.”

  “What kind of kiss?”

  “Uh.”

  “Was it a sexy kiss or more that french thing on both cheeks? Maybe he was trying to be sophisticated.”

  My mind replayed what I saw. Matt had put his hand on her upper arm. He had been smiling at her face. And when he leaned in and kissed her, he had lingered. It had felt intimate.

  “He lingered.”

  The cab driver shook his head. “You know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it all. Trust your gut. If you saw something you didn’t like, it is probably ten times worse than you’re imagining.”

  “Matt would never cheat on me.”

  “That’s what they all say.” He eyeballed me in the mirror. “You look too young to get married. Are you even out of high school?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m 24.”

  “Well, you look too young to be getting married. You should be out there, having fun,” he advised. “Trust me. After you get married, the kids come. And after they arrive, your whole world changes.”

  “I guess.” Not wanting to admit that I couldn’t wait to have a baby. All my friends had important careers. I felt slightly ashamed that my only goal was to get married and start a family.

  When Matt had asked me on our first date, I felt like I had won the lottery. As my friend Julie loved to tease me, I was punching above my weight when it came to Matt. I was cute, but Matt was very good-looking and he was a junior lawyer. Why he wanted to marry me was beyond me, but he did and I wasn’t going to ask why. We would be happy together. We would have the most perfect wedding and then we could start our life together.

  The cab driver was speaking to me. I looked up and realized that he had pulled up in front of my loft. I dug through my bag to find some cash.

  “You sure this is the right place?” he peered through the windshield around the area. It was the most up and coming neighbourhood. Still mostly industrial, there were a handful of condos and lofts in the area.

  “Yeah, I own a loft here.”

  Matt had convinced me to buy a loft here. He had promised me that he would help me with the renovations. He had been too busy and the vast majority had fallen on my shoulders. I had been hopeless dealing with the decisions and the contractors, and without telling Matt, I had simply hired a decorator to take over the project and see it to completion. To this day, Matt still believed that I had managed to convert the old building into the loft that it was today.

  “You should be careful out here. They haven’t caught the throat slayer yet.”

  I shuddered. “Who is the throat slayer?”

  “Some serial killer creep who has been killing women. They say he chokes them to death.”

  My heart tripped. “I’m sure he isn’t out here.”

  The cabbie look
ed over his shoulder at me. “Just be careful kid.”

  Chapter 2

  I jerked awake. My entire body was tense with fear, but I had no idea why. I lifted my head, my ears straining. Something had woken me, I just didn’t know what. Another noise from downstairs sent my heart racing in my chest. I sat up looking for my phone. It wasn’t on the nightstand. With shaking limbs, I stood at my closed door and listened. Someone was definitely downstairs. Matt had already left for the day. I know because I had gotten up in an attempt to talk to him about the wedding invitations, but he had already been half out the door. I had returned to bed for another hour of sleep and now I was a sitting duck in my bedroom while some intruder rooted around downstairs.

  My need to hide was almost overwhelming. Instead, I looked around for a weapon. My golf clubs. I gingerly pulled out my 7 iron. In bare feet, I eased my bedroom door open. I peered over the glass balcony that overlooked the main living area of the loft. I couldn’t see anyone. Had I imagined those noises? I could see my cell phone charging on the counter. Never again. I would never again leave my cell phone downstairs.

  I slowly made my way towards the stairs, keeping my back pressed up against the wall. Everything was silent below. I crept down the open curved stairs. Nothing. My imagination was playing tricks on me. I let out a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. My therapist used to tell me that my fear was simply my false expectations appearing real. A catchy acronym to remind me that my fear of an intruder was irrational.

  Heart still pounding in my throat, I walked towards the huge industrial sliding door wanting to make sure that Matt had set the alarm when he left. My foot connected with something solid and I barely caught my balance as I tripped over it.

  Recovering, I turned around. A huge black canvas duffle bag. The toilet flushed behind me from the half bath on the main floor. I stood there frozen, while my mind raced. I needed to hide.

  I don’t even remember moving. Suddenly, I was flattened against the wall in the front walk-in closet. I could barely control my harsh breathing. My heart raced to the point that I feared I would pass out. My vision blurred with tears.

  I heard the sound of the taps running. The bathroom door opened. Footsteps. Then nothing. Holding my breath, I peered around the corner. An absolutely massive man was crouched on his haunches in front of his duffle bag. He had unzipped it and was rifling through it. Was that his kill kit?

  My body was shaking uncontrollably. My stomach clenched rock hard. White knuckles gripped the club over my shoulder. I just needed to get one clean shot to his head. Then I could run. I crept up behind him. He was still bent over his bag. I saw a gun. With a mangled cry, I swung my club as hard as I could. My club connected with air.

  Now I was flat on my back. My club was pressed to my neck. The monster was on top of me. Pinning me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of green eyes that were looking at me in surprise and then everything faded to black.

  ***

  I opened my eyes. I was lying on the couch staring at my living room ceiling. The couch throw was pulled over my body. Images crashed through me. The intruder. A gun. Being flipped onto the floor.

  With a cry, I half sat up. The intruder was sitting in the wingback chair across from me. He stared at me without expression. The pain that compressed my chest was so intense, so all consuming, I had to look to see if I had a knife sticking out of my chest. No blood. No knife. Just fear that was so real I could taste it.

  The man who had broken into my loft looked like some sort of intense terminator robo-cop. All muscles and scariness. Would he torture me like my parents had been tortured or would he kill me quick? I didn’t care about the money. I already decided I would give him whatever he wanted, I just didn’t want to die.

  “You passed out,” his voice was deep and rough. “Drink some tea.”

  My eyes flicked to a steaming mug on the coffee table. None of this was making sense.

  “You made tea?”

  He didn’t answer. He just sat there dwarfing my favourite chair. Black army boots. Legs like tree trunks clad in army fatigues. Herculean arms crossed over a powerful chest. A thick neck. Stubble that was almost a full beard. A strong jaw and brow. Eyes wide and green. Messy dark blond hair.

  I worked to remember what I was taught in self-defence. Keep them talking. Humanize yourself. Refer to your friends and family. Talk about yourself as a person. And whatever you do, never ask them what they’re going to do to you.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I blurted out.

  A slightly shocked expression flitted across his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Matt didn’t tell you.”

  “What does Matt have to do with this?” I was trembling so hard, my voice was shaking. How did he know Matt? Had Matt hired him?

  “Matt invited me to stay here.”

  I just looked back at him, while my mind raced, trying to connect some dots. He wasn’t here to kill me. He knew Matt. Matt invited him to stay with us.

  “What?”

  “You obviously didn’t know about this. I should go.”

  He stood up. He was so big he was a man tree.

  “Who are you?” I threw the blanket off my body and struggled to a sitting position. I still felt a bit woozy.

  “My name is Jackson.” He was moving at an alarming rate towards his bag.

  Jackson? This was Jackson, Matt’s childhood friend? I tried to remember what Matt had told me about Jackson. The stories were few and far between.

  I stood up on wobbling legs, “You were friends with Matt when you were kids, right?”

  “Is that what he told you?”

  I had no idea what that meant. I stood there looking at him. His massive frame was crouched over his duffle bag while he rearranged something. My shock was fading and now I realized that I had just tried to kill Matt’s friend.

  “Matt invited you to stay here?”

  He didn’t look up at me. “Yes ma’am, sorry to have scared you.”

  I shut my eyes, trying to think rationally. Matt had invited this behemoth man to come and stay with us. I had no idea why he would do that but Matt must have had his reasons. I tried to imagine telling Matt that I had almost beaned his old friend in the head with a club and then he left. That was not a conversation that I thought would go over well. “You can’t leave.”

  He didn’t look up or respond. He just zipped up the bag, stood up, and swung the huge bag over his shoulder. Matt was always accusing me of not being nice to his friends. The truth of the matter was Matt’s friends weren’t all that nice, but that was moot the point. Matt had read me the riot act the last time we went for an extremely awkward dinner with two of his friends, telling me that I really needed to be a better partner, starting by being better to his friends. He never acknowledge that his friends were kind of mean to me, but I had promised him that I would do everything possible to make things better with him and his buddies. There was no way that I wanted to tell Matt that I had tried to kill the man standing before me.

  “You can call me Emily and this was just a big misunderstanding,” I started, desperate to figure out how to fix this. “Just because I almost killed you doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”

  “You didn’t even come close to killing me.” His voice was matter of fact. He glanced at the door. I could tell he was about to walk.

  “I almost smashed your skull.”

  “I was aware of you the moment I came out of the washroom. I just wanted to disarm you without you getting hurt.”

  Our eyes met. That part was true. Somehow he had managed to flip me to the ground and cushion my landing at the same time. I hadn’t even been winded.

  He added. “I didn’t think you would pass out.”

  I felt heat creep up my chest, my neck and then my entire face went red hot. I lifted my chin a fraction, unable to meet his eyes. “I was scared.”

  “You acted pretty brave for being scared,” his voice wa
s rough.

  My eyes collided with his gaze for a millisecond. I swallowed. This was a monumental cluster. How the hell would I explain to Matt that Jackson was here but then he left. I needed him to stay. “I would appreciate it if you would let me make you breakfast.”

  He held himself completely still for a long moment. “Unnecessary.”

  He was so unyielding. He reminded me of a mountain. Solid. Powerful. Unbending.

  Pent up air wheezed out of my chest. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was wearing only a tank top and a pair of sleeping shorts. “I don’t want to tell Matt that I scared you off.”

  His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. “You aren’t scaring me off.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I shot back.

  Jesus. What had come over me? I never talked to anyone like this. I was quiet and unassuming. Why I had chosen the most intimidating man to exert my cheekiness with was completely beyond me.

  His eyes flickered over me. And then in an answer, he dropped the duffle bag on the floor with a heavy thud.

  “Just let me get dressed,” I breathed before racing back up the stairs to my room. I caught sight of my reflection. My long copper red hair stuck up in every direction. I had a big pillow crease on the side of my face. My tank top was so thin the material was practically see through. Without makeup I looked like I was about 15 years old.

  Crap. Nothing like making the worst first impression ever. I started to get dressed, while my mind tried to remember what Matt had told me about his friend. Something about a tree fort and another story about a school yard fight. Matt said that they had grown up to be different people. That was an understatement. Matt was a young liberal, urban lawyer. He dressed his lanky frame in expensive suits, he could talk about wine for hours and he had a constant, impatient vibe to him. The fierce man downstairs with a body like a solid fortress didn’t even seem human. His intensity made him unapproachable. He intimidated me. I could not imagine him and Matt having anything in common.