The Italian’s Doorstep Surprise by Jennie Lucas
CHAPTER TWELVE
AGAINSTALLODDS, she’d succeeded.
As Honora watched her husband and his elderly stepmother embrace, tears filled her eyes.
She’d taken a terrifying gamble, inviting the woman here, praying that he could finally forgive her and let go of the resentment and anger poisoning his soul. She’d been so scared that Nico would refuse, that he’d make a scene and toss Egidia from the house, and that he would hate Honora for what she’d done. But she’d been brave enough to risk it anyway.
And this was her reward.
“I’ll tell my lawyers the Villa Caracciola should be yours,” Egidia Caracciola said tearfully.
“Thank you,” Nico said. Looking around at his guests, he added, “I will, of course, pay you the estate’s full value.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I insist.” All the guests smiled approvingly at this obvious generosity, of each side making a concession, the picture of family compromise and unity.
Coming forward, Honora embraced her stepmother-in-law. “I’m so happy,” she whispered. “For both of you.”
“Me too.” The white-haired woman smiled at her through her tears. “All this time I was fighting him, I thought I was protecting my husband’s memory. But I was wrong. Nicolo is actually his son. He is the one I must protect now.”
Honora glanced at Nico to see if he’d heard. He was watching them, his handsome face impassive. He abruptly gave his stepmother a smile.
“May I get you some champagne?”
For the rest of the evening, Honora felt a warm glow of happiness. After the awful last twenty-four hours, she felt like everything would be all right. Their family was healing. The future was bright—for all of them.
The reception had been a greater success than she’d dared to hope, and she was grateful to all his friends who’d come to wish them well. By the time the last guest had finally left at around two in the morning, trailing off into the cool August night beneath a black sky swept with stars, Honora had spoken with every single person who’d attended. From the Milanese automobile heiress—she was actually very sweet—to the pompous duke with dyed black hair—he told such funny jokes—and thought they were all lovely, lovely people. Honora was happy to call them friends.
As the door finally closed on the last guests, collected by their chauffeurs to head back north to Rome, Honora felt like she’d never been so happy. She turned to face her husband, expecting gratitude, or maybe praise, but not needing either. All she wanted was to share their joy, maybe by him taking her in his arms for a kiss.
But once they were alone, Nico’s whole demeanor changed.
“How could you.”
His voice was a low growl, his powerful body in the tuxedo standing silhouetted in front of the wide windows facing the sea, bathing him in a pool of silvery moonlight.
Honora didn’t understand. She came forward in the pale pink beaded dress, the emerald necklace sparkling coldly against her collarbone. “What do you mean? Everything’s better now, isn’t it?”
He turned on her, his face coldly furious. “Better?” He let out a low, sharp laugh. “I suppose. At least now I know I can’t trust you. Ever. Again.”
She felt an icy chill down her spine.
“But the two of you made up,” she whispered. “You forgave her. You said—”
“What was I supposed to say, surrounded by guests? Did you expect me to knock the woman down? You knew I could not make a scene. I could not show weakness, or even anger that might reveal how much that woman hurt me.”
“But you made peace.” Honora felt dizzy. “Egidia accepted you’re her husband’s son. Even though it clearly hurts her, because it proves that her husband was unfaithful, and also it must make her feel heartbroken about her own babies that died. But she still claimed you. In front of everyone.”
He snorted. “Because she knew my lawyers were at her throat, and she’d soon lose the villa anyway. She thought she could manipulate me, with this tender family reunion.” He said the words as a sneer. “And it worked. I had no choice but reciprocity. Now I’ll be paying her a tidy little bundle, whereas before she would have been left with nothing.”
Honora stared at him in horror. “How can you be so cynical?”
“How can you be so gullible? Can’t you see how the world really is?”
“Just your own awful world you’ve created for yourself, where you believe the worst of everyone!”
“And they so rarely disappoint me.” Nico’s eyes were as cold as a wintry midnight sea. “I should have known you would be the same.”
Honora felt a sharp ache in her throat.
“I was trying to help you,” she whispered. “I wanted you to forgive your stepmother, and your father too, so you wouldn’t be so angry all the time.” She abruptly looked away. “I thought if I could heal your heart, then maybe you could love us. The baby and me.”
Love us. The longing in her voice as she quietly spoke those words seemed to echo in the ballroom. Wishing. Begging.
Nico glared at her, then lifted his chin.
“Why shouldn’t I be angry?” His voice was dangerously low. “My wife stabbed me in the back.”
Standing in the ballroom, shadowy and dark but for the silvery moonlight flooding the six tall windows, Honora felt forlorn, suddenly shivering in her fancy beaded dress. She saw confetti at her feet, which had been tossed earlier by their friends, saw some cake that had been smashed by someone’s shoe into the marble floor. The remnants and trash of the party, like the bitter aftertaste of earlier joy, were all around.
The ballroom was starting to spin. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to breathe. “I never meant to... But you seemed glad!”
His cruel, sensual lips curled. “I lied.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I’ll never trust you again. Never.”
Honora stared at him in the harsh, cold silvery-green moonlight.
She felt shaken to the core. He saw her as his enemy now, she realized—all because she’d tried to heal him.
Did Nico really have no love inside his soul? No ability to care for anyone but himself?
What kind of husband would that make him? What kind of father?
Nico Ferraro is a selfish bastard.Benny’s words came back to haunt her. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. And sooner or later he’s going to hurt you. A man like that can do nothing else.
Shivering, Honora wrapped her arms around her baby bump in the sparkly, pretty cocktail dress. “So I’m your enemy now?”
“You ambushed me. Betrayed me.”
She lifted her gaze. “And how do you intend to punish me?”
Setting his jaw, Nico turned to a nearby table. He poured himself a drink of Scotch from a nearly empty bottle. He drank a long sip and didn’t answer.
She watched him in despair. “I thought you weren’t going to drink as long as I was pregnant.”
“And I thought you were on my side.” He took another sip. “Seems we’re both a disappointment.”
She had the sudden memory of her parents’ arguments when she was a child, as her mother had raged at her father over his drinking, the two of them clashing and blaming each other. Honora had always felt so small, hiding in a corner or outside the doorway.
After one very loud fight when she was nine years old, her mother had taken Honora back to her childhood home. I never should have married him, she’d overheard her mother sob late that night in the kitchen. And Granddad, putting his hand on her shoulder, had replied sadly, You never should have gotten pregnant before you knew what he was.
He hadn’t known Honora was in earshot. But as she’d crept away to her sleeping bag down the hall, she’d known her parents’ unhappiness was her fault, because she had been born. Later that night, her mother had found her crying.
She blinked. “I would give anything to see my mother again,” she said quietly. “And my father. I understand better now. I wish I could tell them that. And that I’ll always love them.” She lifted her gaze. “I wonder if that’s what you were wanting this whole time, Nico. Not revenge. Connection. For your father to acknowledge you. And your stepmother. It was never about the villa. I think you were just trying to get their attention. I think you wanted...to be a family.”
He stared at her, aghast. “Are you out of your mind? I hated them. I vowed to destroy them. And I have.”
Honora’s shoulders slumped.
Feeling like a burden as a child, she’d done everything she could to be loving and kind and giving, even to the point of eating things she didn’t like, and doing things she didn’t want to do.
But Nico, feeling unloved, had gone the other way. He wanted to punish anyone and everyone. And he would never stop. Never forgive.
“Now I know I can’t trust you, I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed.” He drank another gulp of Scotch as he looked out toward the dark moon-swept sea. He looked back at her, his face in shadow. “And it must. For the baby.”
Honora’s hands froze over her belly. She felt the delicate sparkling beadwork, rough beneath her fingertips.
I’m not sure how our marriage can succeed. And it must. For the baby.
She looked down at her baby bump.
Did she want her daughter to spend her whole life feeling as Honora had—that her parents were trapped in a cycle of misery and blame, all for the apparent benefit of their miserable, blamed child?
She had the sudden memory of her mother’s beautiful, sad face when she’d found Honora crying that night in her sleeping bag.
Oh, my darling, don’t cry. It’s my fault, all my fault. We’ll go back home tomorrow. Her young, heartbroken mother had started crying too, and hugged her tight. Just be happy, Honora. Please. Her voice had caught. You have to be happy. For all of us.
Honora suddenly looked up.
“It was never my fault,” she whispered.
Nico’s head turned, and she saw his sudden scowl, edged with silver light. “What do you mean? Of course it was. You’re the one who invited her here.”
Honora shook her head, lost in her own realization. “My parents made mistakes. They did the best they could. But I was never to blame. I was just a baby.” She looked down, her hand resting protectively on her own unborn child. “I’ll never do that to you,” she whispered. “Never.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She looked at him in wonder. “My whole life, I’ve felt like I didn’t deserve to be happy, or speak out for the things I wanted.” She shook her head. “You helped me learn to stand up for myself.”
“And you turned against me.”
“I was never against you, Nico,” she said quietly. “I’m always on your side, even now, though you can’t see it. I love you.” She looked down. “But you’ll never love me back.”
Nico’s posture changed. His dark eyes looked haunted.
“Love was never part of our arrangement,” he said in a low voice. “But I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought if I romanced you, with passion and gifts—”
She gave him a sad smile. “I know.”
He set his jaw. “But trust, watching each other’s back—that’s what I expected in our marriage. And you couldn’t even uphold your end of the bargain. That’s what your so-called love is good for.”
Standing in the ballroom of this elegant Italian villa, pregnant with a much-desired child, married to a handsome billionaire and draped in jewels, Honora had never felt so sad and alone.
She thought of how her mother had loved her, so much that Bridget had given up her own chance for happiness, for her child’s sake.
What would have happened if her mother had left her father that night for good, and never gone back? Could Bridget have learned to be happy? Could her father have cleaned up his act? Would they both still be alive today—blessed to live long enough to learn to do better?
Honora suddenly saw her choice clearly.
Would she stay with a man who considered her an enemy if she said he’d made a mistake? Would she teach her daughter to feel like a burden? Teach her that families should be filled with anger and blame, rather than forgiveness and love? Teach her that wives stayed and put up with misery, no matter what?
No, she thought. No.
“You have no love in your heart,” she whispered. “Not for me. Not for anyone. No love. No forgiveness. Nothing.”
“It’s who I am,” he said coldly. “You knew that when you married me.”
“But I thought—” She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t live like this anymore.”
His mouth fell open. He quickly recovered. “You can’t leave. Under the terms of the prenup, you’ll get almost nothing.”
“You think I care about that?” she choked out.
“Everyone cares about money, no matter what they say.” His dark eyes glittered. “Money is power, and power is everything.”
She gave a laugh that was more like a sob. “Money? Power? It’s love that matters, Nico. Loving your family, but also loving yourself. It’s about being kind and helping each other. Because living can be hard, and everyone has secret bruises and broken hearts they try to hide.”
Nico looked at her coldly. “I don’t.”
Honora stared at him. The pain in her throat felt radioactive. “I realize that now. Nothing I can do will help you or heal you. Because you don’t want to be helped. You don’t want to be healed.”
His dark eyebrows lowered. He walked toward her, and his handsome face came fully into the moonlight. He looked younger than he was. His expression seemed strangely lost.
“You can’t leave.” His voice was uncertain.
“I have to,” she whispered, “or you’ll drag me into your darkness. Drag all of us.”
Stiffening, he glared at her. “Just because I protect myself and don’t forgive my enemies. Just because I seek justice. Just because I’m angry you went behind my back and—”
She held up her hand, stopping him midtirade. She felt tired and so, so sad. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. But I can’t let you ruin my life—and our daughter’s.”
“Our daughter!” He drew back, his expression shocked. “I would never do anything to hurt her!”
Honora took a deep breath, fighting to be reasonable and kind when she felt so hurt. “If that’s true, you can still be her father.”
“Big of you,” he said, sneering.
“I’ll make sure she knows you never abandoned her. You can visit her anytime you like. I’ll wait until after she’s born before I start divorce proceedings.”
Nico’s voice caught. “Divorce?”
She looked at him quickly. His darkly handsome face was as inscrutable as ever. She must have imagined emotion in his voice. He would never feel anything, certainly not hurt, let alone despair.
“I won’t ask for alimony. I’ll take all the blame,” she said. “She’ll live with me, but legally, we’ll share custody. As long as you’re good to her. And don’t turn her into your enemy, and try to punish her, or push her utterly out of your life any time she disappoints you.”
“You really think I would do that?” he whispered.
Honora took a deep breath, blinking back tears.
“It’s what you do,” she said.
Turning, she left the ballroom. She was proud of herself that she didn’t fall apart, but walked away steadily, without looking back. Pride was all she had to hold on to, and a quiet, desperate hope that someday, somehow, she might climb out of this misery.
I have to stand up for what is right, she repeated to herself desperately, her hands clenched. To truly love my daughter, I also have to love myself.
But it was hard for her to even imagine ever being happy, as she left the only man she’d ever loved behind, in the dark, forlorn ballroom where, just hours before, she’d thought they had a future ahead of them of limitless joy.
Nico had never imagined she’d just leave.
The villa was dark as he stood in the ballroom. A few minutes later, he heard her final footsteps and the slam of the front door. It crossed his mind to worry about how she would travel, whether she’d be safe. He paced, then called his security chief, who was staying in the carriage house. “My wife is heading for the garage. Take her anywhere she wants to go. Wake the pilot if necessary. Just go with her, Frank. Keep her safe.”
But as Nico hung up, his lips twisted bitterly. Why was he worried about her? In the short month that they’d lived here, Honora had made friends everywhere, both inside this house and in the surrounding villages. She would be safe. Everyone loved Honora, because she loved everyone first.
And she’d said she loved him. He’d thought he could trust her, that their marriage would last through anger and arguments and pain. He’d never imagined she’d just...disappear.
Or maybe he had. Nico took a deep breath. Some part of him, deep inside, had always been afraid to fully trust her. He’d known he’d always be on the outside, even of his own family.
Nico carefully set down the glass of Scotch. He’d drunk very little—it had been mostly for show, to prove to her that he could defy her, too. Perhaps to prove it to them both, after the way she’d humiliated him in front of their guests.
I was trying to help you. I wanted you to forgive your stepmother, and your father too, so you wouldn’t be so angry all the time. I thought if I could heal your heart, then maybe you could love us. The baby and me.
Feeling numb, he pushed the thought away. He slowly walked through the wreckage of the ballroom, with the mess of food, dropped napkins, used plates, colorful confetti and the pile of brightly wrapped wedding gifts. Gifts. How he hated gifts! As if an emerald necklace could ever make a difference, could make her stay!
Grabbing one wedding present wrapped in silvery sparkly paper with a big bow, he turned and smashed it against the wall. Whatever was inside broke into a thousand chiming shards, like crystal.
It didn’t make him feel better. Neither did the early phone call he got a few hours later, as he was trying and failing to sleep in the big bed alone.
“I just got a phone call from Egidia Caracciola’s lawyer,” his head lawyer told him happily. “I don’t know what you did, but she apparently left him a message late last night, as she was leaving your party. She’ll be coming into his office this afternoon to sign the papers, transferring the Villa Caracciola to you, free and clear. She’s not even asking for payment.”
“Pay her the full market value,” Nico said tightly.
“But it’s not necessary—”
“Do it,” he said, and hung up.
Dawn was rising over the eastern horizon, soft and pink. Nico felt restless, trapped in the villa, especially as the villa’s staff began arriving to tidy up from the night before.
He longed to go for a run, but the Amalfi Coast was rocky and steep, not like the flat shoreline of the Hamptons. Hiking the cliffs and mountains, with their gorgeous view of the sea for miles, would have to do.
Pulling on a T-shirt and shorts and running shoes, he pushed himself as fast as he could, climbing and descending the rocky path, watching the ground so he did not stumble and fall off the edge to his death. His mind was carefully blank of everything but survival.
He went five miles, brutally pushing himself into the mountains as the sun climbed the wide Italian sky. When he reached the top, he looked back at the vast blue sea. The world was fresh and new and he’d never felt so worn-out and old.
Had she ever been his to lose?
I love you, Nico.
He could still remember how her eyes had glowed so dreamily when she’d first spoken the words. And the way her light had faded in his weeks of silence, as he’d never said the words back to her. How could he, when he didn’t know what love was? When his heart was stone?
Honora deserved better. Both she and their baby deserved more than a man who had nothing to offer except cold, hard cash.
A noise came from the back of his throat, and he suddenly stumbled over the steep rocky path. Looking down the rocky slope toward Trevello, he saw his father’s ancestral villa, the one he’d wanted for so long, and fought so hard to possess.
I wonder if that’s what you were wanting this whole time, Nico. Not revenge. Connection. For your father to acknowledge you. And your stepmother. It was never about the villa. I think you were just trying to get their attention. I think you wanted to be a family.
No. Ridiculous. He clawed through his hair. What kind of feeble thing would that be, for Nico to still be trying to get the attention of the people who’d hurt and abandoned him as a child? No. He wasn’t that weak or spineless. He’d done it purely for vengeance.
And now he had it. His stepmother was giving the villa to him, as a gift. Last night, she’d publicly acknowledged him as her deceased husband’s son.
But looking at the Villa Caracciola clinging to the cliff, Nico didn’t feel the happiness and pride he’d craved. Setting his jaw, he descended to the villa’s gate.
The door was dangling open. Apparently Egidia Caracciola had already left. It was empty.
As empty as he felt.
His shoulders hurt. He felt bone-weary. And something more. Something he’d spent his whole life trying not to feel.
He felt sad.
But as he started to turn away, he heard a noise. Peeking past the gate, he saw the elderly widow collapsed across the steep, crooked stone steps. She was still wearing her ball gown from last night.
Was she dead?
With an intake of breath, Nico rushed forward. He only exhaled again when he discovered she was, in fact, still alive.
Seeing him, Egidia whimpered, “My leg... I think it’s broken.”
He reached for his phone, only to remember he hadn’t brought it on his hike. “I’ll go get help.”
“No, please, don’t leave me.” Her voice was a quiet sob. “I’ve been out here all night. I thought I would die alone...”
“Where’s your phone?”
She gestured wildly to a dense thicket of trees farther down the treacherous hill. “Somewhere—over there—I think,” she gasped. “After I tripped, I couldn’t find it. I...tried.”
Her breathing was uneven, her voice weak with her cheek pressed down against the stone. Nico felt a surge of worry. He kept his voice calm. “I’ll find it. What does it look like?”
“It’s silver, a clutch bag.”
He strode to the copse of trees, looking around with a swiftly pointed gaze, and soon found the 1990s-style bag and the barely more modern phone tucked inside it. Turning it on, he immediately phoned for medical assistance. Then he returned to kneel beside her.
“The ambulance is on the way. Everything’s going to be fine,” he said gently. “Can I help you get more comfortable?”
Egidia’s face was filled with pain and panic, but she nodded. He slowly helped her turn over, so her face wasn’t pressed into the stone steps. He flinched when he saw her fractured leg bone, stretching her skin. Following his gaze, she tried to laugh.
“Serves me right. I should have sold you this villa last year, after Arnaldo died. The truth is, the stairs are too much for me.”
She said the words lightly, but he saw the beads of sweat on her forehead.
“I’m sorry I made you fight so hard,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t nice.”
She looked at him quickly. “Neither was I.” Her breathing came quick and shallow. “It was hard for me to admit that my husband had a baby with the maid while I was still mourning all the sons we’d lost.”
“Honora—” Nico’s throat closed around her name “—told me how you’ve suffered.”
Her rheumy eyes filled with tears. “Three little boys. Two lost before birth. The other died before he was a month old. All had the same genetic disorder. After that, we made sure to have no more children. And then...” She looked down. “Then your mother ambushed us on the street in Rome. She pushed you forward, a sweet, dark-haired boy, and said Arnaldo was your father. He told me it was a lie, that your mother was just trying to get money. I wanted so desperately to believe him.” She grasped his hand. “And you are the one who suffered for it. I’m sorry.”
Nico felt a strange tightness in his chest. “So it wasn’t because I seemed unworthy? Useless?”
“Unworthy?” she gasped. “I looked at you on the street, this proud, black-eyed boy, and I wanted so badly for you to be mine. I would have done anything. All I could think of was how my own body had betrayed me, and would not give me what I wanted so badly.” She swallowed. “I couldn’t see past my own pain. And Arnaldo...he must have been ashamed.”
Nico stared at her.
“It was never about me, was it?” he said slowly. She shook her head.
“You were an innocent child, caught up in the lies of adults. When I saw you last night, I was finally forced to admit you were his. And I hated myself for letting my own insecurities and grief keep me from loving you long ago. As every child should be loved.” She tried to smile. “You are the brother of the sons I lost.”
In the distance, he could hear the siren of the coming ambulance. In the rhythm of the sound, he heard Honora’s voice: My parents made mistakes. They did the best they could. But I was never to blame. I was just a baby.
“Please, forgive me,” Egidia gasped as the paramedics hurried past the gate toward them. Looking down at her, his injured, elderly stepmother, who’d spent the entire night stretched out on cold stone steps, alone and scared, he put his hand gently on her shoulder.
“Only if you’ll forgive me, too.”
With a sob, she whispered, “Bless you.” The paramedics stabilized her leg and loaded her carefully on the stretcher. “And your sweet wife...”
“I’ll call the hospital later to make sure you’re all right,” was the best he could manage. But as he watched the ambulance depart, his heart felt strange.
It felt...lighter.
After all these years of being numb, of priding himself on his hard heart, he watched the ambulance disappear up the narrow cobblestoned street and felt like a burden had suddenly been lifted. Not completely, but just enough for him to be made aware of how heavy it had been all along.
He’d thought his father and stepmother had made some judgment about him when he was a child, that they had found him lacking. But their reasons for rejecting him had had nothing to do with him. They’d been dealing with struggles of their own.
Was it possible that all the times he’d felt ignored, unwanted, an outsider in his own home, it hadn’t been about him at all, but about other people’s insecurities and pain? His father’s shame? His stepmother’s anguish? His mother’s poverty and heartbreak?
Had Honora been right? All this time he’d thought he wanted revenge, had he really just been hungering for connection, to know his place in the world, to be recognized and seen?
He’d always believed that emotions were a sign of weakness. Anger was all he’d allowed himself. Was it possible that being courageous enough to feel joy, sadness and everything in between was the biggest strength of all?
It’s love that matters, Nico. Loving your family, but also loving yourself.
Honora’s sweetness, her kindness, her passion...all the times she’d sacrificed so much, and risked even more, in her amazing determination to make Nico happy, to make him whole—
His heart was pounding. He felt overwhelmed with emotion. All around him, soft golden sunlight seemed to glow over the village of Trevello with a kind of magic as he thought of her. He could almost imagine her on this street, helping Egidia with her groceries, walking the housekeeper’s little white dog, talking to everyone, smiling and kind...
Nico sucked in his breath.
He loved her, he realized. He was totally and completely in love.
This was what love meant. Honora was his family. His other half, his better half. He needed her. He would die without her.
With a sharp intake of breath, Nico turned and ran up the hillside. He had to talk to her. Now.
Reaching his villa, he threw himself into a cold shower to wash off the sweat. Pulling on a shirt and trousers, he remembered his private plane was still in New York. Grabbing his phone, he saw he’d gotten a text from Frank Bauer to say that Honora had arrived safely, and he’d dropped her off at her grandfather’s apartment at her request.
Dialing a number, Nico told his assistant to charter a jet to New York immediately. After he hung up, he stared at the phone, trying to work up the nerve to call Honora. He yearned to tell her everything. To throw himself on her mercy and beg for another chance.
But what if she said no? What if she said he’d hurt her so badly that she couldn’t love him again? His hand shook as he hesitated. Being in love was terrifying. She held his life in her hands.
I hope you fall in love with her, Nico. Wildly and desperately. Lana Lee’s vindictive words floated back to him. And I hope you’ll suffer for the rest of your life when she never, ever loves you back.
His phone suddenly rang in his palm, making him jump. The number on screen belonged to Honora’s grandfather, Patrick. He snatched it to his ear.
His former gardener’s voice was terse. “Honora’s in labor. We’re at the hospital. She wanted me to let you know. And to tell you that everything is fine.”
Even now, Honora was worried about his feelings? His heart was pounding. “Is everything fine?”
Silence fell at the other end, then the old man said, “Look, I don’t know what you did to her... She says she doesn’t want you here.” He paused. “But you should come.”
“Why are you telling me that? Going against her wishes?”
“Because, well, damn it, you’re family.”
And he hung up.
Nico stared at the dead phone in his hand.
You’re family.
Those simple words cleared out the cobwebs of his mind, exploding the stone walls around his heart, making everything very clear.
Honora was in labor with his baby. Possibly too early. Possibly dangerously so. Terror looped through him.
Grabbing his passport and wallet, Nico ran to the garage. Jumping into the closest car, he started it with a roar, pressing on the gas, heading to the airport where the charter waited, praying he wasn’t too late.
Whatever happened, he had to be there. To take care of them. To show them he lived for them. That he’d die for them.
He loved them.