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My palm rests on my chest, as I try to take in a breath, only my lungs don’t feel like they’re expanding enough. Nerves take over as I start to sweat, feeling hot all over.
“What is it, bambolina?” I hear Nico ask, standing immediately and walking toward me. I can hear a woman on the other end of the phone yelling, “Bambolina? Who is Bambolina?” but I ignore it. As does he when he immediately hangs up on the call, then throws his phone on the sofa and kneels next to me.
“It’s okay, Emilia, just breathe,” he says, as his hands cup my jaw, and I struggle to take a full breath. I look at him, my eyes wide as fear grips my body. I try to say his name, but nothing comes out. My hand pulls at my collar, feeling like I’m suffocating, my eyes watering and running down my face. I feel helpless, like I can’t do anything. I can’t stop this feeling. I have no control over my own body.
“Breathe with me, bambolina. You can do it. Come on, we will do it together.” His thumbs glide along my jaw, caressing my skin, his soft voice doing wonders to calm me. I watch him take a big breath, and I try to copy him.
“That’s it, nice, big breaths. I’ve got you.” He pulls me toward him, his arm coming around my shoulder, his hand rubbing my body softly. His eyes pin mine as we breathe together, his touch relaxing my coiled-tight muscles and my body melting against his. I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, my hand resting on his chest so I can feel his deep breaths and heartbeat.
“Nico.” I manage to say his name, hating how pathetic I sound, embarrassed that Nico witnessed yet another moment of vulnerability from me.
“Are you feeling better now?” He searches my eyes as I nod subtly. “What happened?” he asks me, and I show him the newspaper clipping of my father and his friend.
“What about it? What upset you?” he asks, removing his hands from my face, and sitting next to me on the floor.
“This is Doctor Wakeford...” I say quietly to him as he watches me intently.
“Yes, I know.” He nods, waiting for more.
“His wife died years ago too...” I say, my heart rate is starting to elevate again. “In a car accident… just like my mom...” I barely get the words out past the lump in my throat. Could it be a horrible coincidence? Possibly. Is it likely to be a coincidence? No.
I watch Nico as his jaw clenches, taking in this information.
“Yeah, well, his daughter Catherine is with my brother Carter now. Apparently, her mother didn’t die in a car accident, but it was made to look that way.”
“So perhaps my mother didn’t die in a car accident either, Nico.” I don’t want the words out in the universe, but I can’t help but believe it’s the truth.
“Perhaps she didn’t.” Nico says as he takes the newspaper clipping from my hand, looking at it again before looking back at me and studying my face.
“Come on. Let’s go and take a break. I will make you some lunch,” he says, standing before grabbing my hands and lifting me up so I am standing next to him on shaky legs. I am lost in thought as I let him take me by the hand and walk me out of the room, and down the hallway into the kitchen. I pause at the bench while Nico gets busy with ingredients. It seems he likes to cook.
“Nico, why would my father kill my mother?” I’m so confused, trying to reconcile everything in my jumbled brain. “Why would he do that?” I ask again, looking at Nico like he has all the answers. I’m not sure why I’m even asking him. How would he know? Why would he even care? But I still feel raw, not like my usual self, and he is the only person in the world I can talk to about this.
He walks back to me then, his hand coming up to my face, the backs of his fingers draping across my cheekbone. My skin prickles with heat under his touch. What is it about this man that makes me feel things I have never felt before? How does he break my barriers and pick me up whenever I feel out of control, yet do so in a way that makes me crave it instead wanting to shield myself or run way?
He looks at me, drinking me in, a sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know, bambolina, but I have a feeling you are going to find the answer in those boxes.”
15
NICO
Iplate our pasta and sit with Emilia, letting her eat quietly with her thoughts. This is the second time she has become a little overwhelmed with the personal belongings she finds, and even though it is understandable, it is not something I considered when I decided she was the right fit for this job.
She was perfect for this job without her connection to Brian Cole. The fact he is her father is an added bonus. But the emotional roller-coaster she is on has taken us both by surprise. While I knew their relationship wasn’t a close one, I had no idea how detached they really are from each other. It is like she didn’t even have any parents, essentially growing up entirely on her own.
I clench and unclench my hand under the table, still feeling the buzz from when I brushed her cheek. I need to stop fucking touching her. I need to remain professional, not cross the lines of boss and employee for the time being. Sebastian’s voice repeats in my head about business first, about staying focused until our job is done.
I always do as he says. I always follow his directions, but there is something about her that gets under my skin to the point where I don’t know if I can hold myself back much longer. She is festering in my chest, making my mind and body weak for her.
She moves the spaghetti around on her plate, obviously not hungry, but we still have the whole afternoon ahead of us, so she needs to eat.
“Eat, you need the energy,” I say to her. Her eyes flick to mine suddenly, like she has only just become aware I am sitting here.
“Yes. Sure,” she says quietly, almost absentmindedly, and I watch her put a few spoonfuls in her mouth.
I don’t have it on me, but I know my cell phone is blowing up right now. I didn’t hesitate to hang up on my sister, and I am already stressed about the twenty questions she will ask me later.
“My father has a lot to answer for. If I ever find him, I am going to make him tell me everything,” she grits out, and I see the flames now in her eyes as her body becomes rigid. The more she eats, it seems her sadness turns to anger.
