Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I squeeze my eyes shut and suck in a deep breath to steady my nerves. I grip the edge of the vanity, knowing what a mammoth task I have ahead.
Today, the world will be watching. Media teams with their TV cameras and long lenses will capture every morbid detail of the king being buried.
I travel with Massimo and Imogen to the funeral. I falter as I walk along the white path cutting through the immaculate lawns of the cemetery and take my seat across from Nico’s gleaming coffin draped in flowers. People crowd the lawns. Politicians and criminals standing shoulder to shoulder in the cool November sunlight. Cameras flash. People sob. A somber cloud hangs in the air.
The presence of security is heavy. De Kysa enemies would see today as ripe for a massacre. But it won’t happen. There are so many bodyguards and security mercenaries in place, no threat will pass undetected.
Nico’s father isn’t here. Too distraught to bury his son, he was taken to the hospital with chest pain and exhaustion.
My father sits behind me, a calm tower of strength. He’s been to so many of these, I wonder if it ever gets any easier for him.
I remember the funerals of my mother and brothers. Of the three coffins lined up in a row. Three bodies but five lives destroyed by a car bomb meant for my father.
Death is so final. But sometimes it can be a rebirth. Their deaths paved the way to our new life in the US.
I don’t even hear the priest. All I can do is keep focused on my tears and not let my nerves get the better of me. I feel sick and desperate for this to be over.
As Nico’s coffin is lowered into the ground, Imogen reaches for my hand and squeezes. Across the lawn, paparazzi cameras hum and click and flash as they capture new fodder for their online magazines and blogs, and televised news reports.
One day, this will all be over—no paparazzi, no bodyguards, no suffocating fear of living in the world of the Mafia. I will sink into obscurity to live out my life in peace, and I feel a calmness settle into my soul at the thought.
When the fanfare is over, people line up to pay their respects, but it is all a blur. I shake hand after hand, and issue one thank-you after another until I don’t think I can speak anymore.
Nico is no longer just dead. Now he is buried.
Gone forever.
Beside me, Massimo cuts a strong, supportive figure. His life has changed just as much as mine in the past five days.
Brotherless, he’s now the new don of the De Kysa.
The cemetery begins to empty, but I remain in my chair and stare at the coffin lowered into its grave.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to ride back with you to the apartment?” Imogen asks.
I shake my head. “I’ll call you later.”
She squeezes my hand. “You did really good today, Bella.”
She brushes a kiss on my cheek and leaves.
Across the lawn, a black Escalade pulls in behind Massimo’s parked car.
“It’s time to go,” he says.
Together, we walk away from Nico’s grave and along the path leading to the road, both of us fully aware of lurking cameras.
We stop at the edge of the path, and he hugs me. “My brother knew what he was doing when he picked you for a bride.”
I smile through my tears. “You know he kidnapped me, right?”
“Semantics.” He winks. “I’ll see you soon, Bella De Kysa.”
I walk toward the black Escalade with the black-out windows parked at the curb. I pause before I open the door and look over my shoulder in the direction of Nico’s coffin gleaming in the late morning sunlight.
“Goodbye, my king,” I whisper.
Sliding into the back seat, I close the door and let out the breath I was holding.
Beside me, my husband leans over and kisses me.
“Hello, my queen.”
49
Nico
Five days earlier
I’ve been fucking shot.
I look at Bella, and I know I’m about to leave her, and it breaks my heart. I’m not afraid to die. But I am afraid to leave her.
Fuck, not now.
But the darkness sweeps over me, and I fall against her, the blood from my bullet wounds seeping onto her dress as I slide down her body and sink to the sidewalk.
I awaken to the sound of a machine beeping. It takes me a while, but I open my eyes, and all I see are the bright glow of lights. I slowly come to realize that I’m in the back of an ambulance.
Bella. I try to say her name, but there seems to be a disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Finally, I’m able to rasp, “Bella?”
“Is that your girl?” the EMT asks me. He’s an older guy. His thick accent is pure New York City. There’s something comforting about him. “We couldn’t bring her with us, buddy. I need all the room back here so I can help you.”