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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

NICO

N ico stared at the letter in her lap. She had yet to open it, but she couldn’t hold off any longer. She’d made a promise to herself she would read it before she set foot on Italian soil. She looked out the window of the plane. Soon they would begin their descent into Milan Malpensa Airport.

That understanding she and Rocco had come to in Barcelona had been real.

Something had changed. They were doing much better.

Rocco had earned the team points on every race.

He had yet to mount the podium, but he’d come close in the last two races, finishing fourth.

Nico had yet to earn any points, but with each race, she got one step closer to finishing in the top ten.

The last race she’d finished eleventh. She felt full of hope.

She stared back at the letter.

She’d be damned if she’d let Mickey get in the way. Charles was right. She gave him too much power.

That’s about to end. Here. And. Now.

With trembling fingers, she ripped open the envelope.

Ciao My Sweet Angelini,

How long has it been? Were you thinking the last letter I sent so many years ago would be my final one? You didn’t think I would let you get away that easily, did you? Especially after that dirty turn you did me, which forced me to leave the country.

I’ve never stopped thinking of my topolina, my little mouse. I have yet to find another woman so willing, so yielding, so compliant.

Are you still the same?

I hear congratulations are in order. My topolina has finally made it. Formula 1! That is quite an accomplishment. One I am quite proud of, given I helped fund you early on.

I expect a return on my investment. I needn’t ask if you remember our agreement. Of course you do.

You were quite adept at keeping me at arm’s length, avoiding playing the roper and frustrating me in any attempt to fix on a mark while you were working your way up in the racing world. Now, I see you are to be commended for it.

I’m glad we waited. Enough time has passed since I left, and it is now safe to resume our relationship.

I’ve seen the schedule. I am in Rome as I write this. Soon I will be traveling up the coast to La Spezia. I’m not sure that I will make it as far north as Monza but perhaps the race in Monaco afterward? No matter, in either case we will meet in the very near future.

Don’t worry about finding me; I will find you. You can be sure of it. Just as you can be sure that when you are in my arms once more, I will not make the mistake of ever letting you go again.

Yours Always,

Mickey

Nico shoved the letter back in the crumpled envelope and threw it in her purse.

I have more to hold over him than he does me.

He was the one who’d had to leave the country to escape the authorities. It was obvious he was still grifting. How else could he have survived all these years? All it would take is one call to the police to send him packing. If necessary.

But could she do it? She’d like to prove him wrong—show him she was no longer that compliant topolina.

Topolina. I am not his little mouse.

She wanted so badly to believe that Charles was right. That the man had no power over her anymore. But as she ran her finger along that scar on the back of her head, she couldn’t believe it—not in her bones.

Exposing him meant exposing her.

She knew it. And he knew it too.

The fasten seat belt sign turned on. She glanced out the window. They’d be arriving soon.

Mickey was right about one thing. When it came to the racing world she had made a concerted effort not to play the roper for him.

She had been determined not to lure anyone connected to that world into some con or scam concocted by Mickey.

Any time he’d fixed his attention on someone, claiming they’d be the perfect sucker, the perfect mark, she’d found a way to convince him otherwise.

Everything she ever did in the world of racing had been on the square.

She swallowed. A sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Except once.

That night.

That night at Drink and Dive when she’d performed the short con.

And her mark had been none other than Rocco Vittori.