We stroll down the hallway.
“Not going back to the party?” She asks.
“No. Is Nico still here?”
She taps her earpiece. “Is the pretty boy boss still here?”
I snort out a laugh. She giggles, too.
Angel is one of my bodyguards who came highly recommended by my friend Baylor. She’s Cairo’s wife. Baylor and I met when I was twenty-two and she was seventeen. My father told me Baylor’s dad had asked if I could offer his daughter some college advice. She was so easy to talk to. For a couple of years, we’d talk briefly. After I moved to Florence, I asked my dad to get her phone number again. We’ve beensecretly chatting ever since. I asked Cairo not to mention my friendship with Baylor to Nico, his best friend, and Baylor promised to convince her husband to keep it quiet.
“He is still here,” Angel says.
“He wants to rub this stupid marriage arrangement in my face. Not happening. Tell Bets to escort Kobi to my office in five minutes.”
She relays the message. “And don’t let pretty boy upstairs.”
I chuckle as we stroll up the back staircase. Angel knows me so well.
Before I moved to Florence, I poured everything I had into managing investments for Cichello Investment Corporation. I built a reputation for making smart decisions and turning strong portfolios into even stronger profits. Moving to Italy never changed that. I continued overseeing investments from abroad with the same relentless work ethic. My father didn’t like me living abroad. He preferred to have me in his presence. He’s overprotective to this day.
“Angel, I’ll be out in just a moment,” I tell her.
She smiles as she kicks her heels off outside my bedroom.
I close the door and sink onto the bed. We lived in Jersey until I went away to college. Dad sold our Jersey home and moved the family to the home he had built in Claymont. Being back in Delaware still doesn’t give me comfort. Our bodyguards are on full alert at all times, especially since I returned.
I press the missed call on the screen. The phone rings once.
“Serenity?”
I smile. “Yes, Nana, is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure.”
My heart lurches in my chest. “What do you mean?”
“Someone said they don’t feel good.”
I laugh. “I see. Let me talk to a certain someone.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Mommy?”
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask.
“I miss you.”
Tears pool in my eyes, and I choke back the tears. “I miss you, too.”
I had planned to move my son, who’s almost four years old, to Jersey with his nanny Kisha, who’s Angel’s sister, in the next week. Now my situation has changed because of fucking Nico. I prefer to live in Jersey under Dillon’s protection. If it were up to me, I’d leave my son in Italy. However, he’s spoiled and doesn’t like being away from me. That’s my fault. I’d sometimes go away on business trips for a few days, and he’d give Kisha hell while I was away.
“Madden, you have to go back to sleep,” I whisper.
“No,” he cries.
I call on FaceTime. His handsome little face comes into view. That wide smile that lifts his cheeks makes it next to impossible to hold back the tears.
