Her Dad’s Best Friend

Chapter 47

My stomach threatens to revolt, but I put a foot on his back. Iacopo reaches for the guy’s throat.

“No pulse.” Iacopo leans in and puts his ear next to the guy’s mouth. “No breath. He’s done.”

I really think I’m going to throw up right now. Sure, I knew that my dad and Uncle Iacopo didn’t have

lily-white hands, but nobody had ever been killed in front of me before.

“I’m going to turn on the lights now.” Iacopo is walking over to the door.

And then the room

is full of eye-searing light.

“Ugh!” It’s like dawn but worse.

“Sorry.” Even though Iacopo doesn’t seem particularly repentant, I let it slide.

There’s a guy with light brown skin under me. His head is twisted at an unnatural angle.

“I snapped his neck,” Iacopo says when he sees me staring. “It was the best I could do on short notice.

If I’d had a few seconds, I would have grabbed my gun. Thank you for warning me.”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve apparently just saved Iacopo’s life, even though all I wanted to do was

talk. And I’ve just watched a man killed in front of me.

“Hey,” Iacopo says very softly. His eyes are on my face. “We’re going to walk down to the kitchen.

You’re going to drink something.”

He puts his arm around me, his hand resting on my waist. And then we’re going downstairs to the

kitchen. Once we’re there, he pulls open the refrigerator door and brings out a big jug of orange juice.

“You need some sugar for the shock,” he says. He pours us two glasses of juice. I drink mine even

though it tastes too sour. The unpleasant tartness of the juice tells me that I really am awake. I pinch

my wrist.

“You’re awake,” Iacopo says.

I stare at the small mark on my skin that’s rapidly fading. I really just watched Iacopo murder someone.

Yes, that someone was an assassin, but holy shit.

Chapter Eleven

Late Night

Iacopo

“Who was that?” Kelly’s hands are still shaking, even after I’ve given her orange juice. Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

I sigh. “Did you know that I’m going through a custody dispute?”

She nods. “My dad hated your ex-wife. He said that even though she was a mafia princess, she only

married you for the alliance and didn’t love you.”

“Succinct,” I say.

“I remember when your daughter was born,” Kelly says, her voice wistful. “She was so small. How old

is she now?”

“A year. She’s walking, not very steadily, and she babbles.” Talking about my daughter hurts. She’s a

reminder of the failure of my first marriage, but I wouldn’t trade Lucia for anything.

“What does your baby have to do with an assassin in your bedroom?”

“I have a lot of enemies,” I say.

“And?”

“Ariana is still a part of my life.”

“You think that your ex-wife sent someone to kill you? That’s crazy. No way.”

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