Page 88 of Nico

“You two don’t get along?”

Nico gave me a wry look. “Did it look to you like we got along?”

I gulped. “No, I suppose not. Did you ever get along?”

“No.” His tone was hard. “His idea of raising his children was to torment us. I couldn’t wait to become old enough and beat him at every single pathetic game of his.”

A sharp gasp escaped me. This was Nico Morrelli - the man that ruled the underworld with an iron fist.

“You seem shocked.” I wasn’t sure if he was trying to mock me or was just stating the facts.

“I’m sure he loves you,” I murmured low, though I wasn’t sure. If he was anything like Benito, that couldn’t have been good for Nico when he was growing up.

“My father only loves himself and would sacrifice anyone, including his children or wife, for his own benefit and greed.” It was hard to believe a father, or anyone for that matter, would be so selfish. I have been so fortunate with my family. Why was it that good women always got the shittiest men?

“That must have been hard for your mom,” I said with a heavy sigh. I knew it was hard for my mom.

“Yes, it was. Hence her drinking problem.”

“Was their marriage arranged or something along those lines? She seems fairly young.”

“No, she fell for him, much to my grandfather’s dismay. But at least he was smart enough to tie all her fortune so my father couldn’t get his hands on it. She is fifty-nine. My father is in his seventies.”

My new husband was giving me insight into his life, but I still felt blind as a bat.

“Hmmm, that’s quite a bit of age difference,” I murmured.

“What about your mom and Benito?” Maybe he was giving me crumbs of information so he could get information on my mom. “It’s not easy to live with someone like Benito King.”

That was an understatement.

“My mom is not an alcoholic,” I said though if I was being honest, I wouldn’t have known either way. I knew very little about my mother, only what my grandmother and Dad have told me over the years. “Truthfully, I didn’t see my mom a lot when growing up. Actually, I barely saw her. But I love her and she loves me. That’s all that matters.”

My mother had sacrificed a lot for me and the least I could do was to show her my respect and love. She had both, and I’d never give up on her. “That man… Benito King, he’s sucking the life out of her,” I whispered the admission.

Silence followed, my heart clenching in my chest. God, I wanted to scream and yell, beg for help. I’d crawl on my knees and plead with anyone to get that man eliminated and save my mother.

Nico’s deep voice pulled me back from my thoughts. “You don’t look like your mom,” he stated the obvious.

“No.” It was on the tip of my tongue to say I looked like my dad but I stopped myself. It had been my standard answer for years. Though with this man, I had a feeling he’d see right through it. He saw him on the video earlier, he’d be able to tell I looked nothing like him.

My dad, or the man that raised me, had dark hair and eyes but a completely different shade from mine, and our features were different.

We remained quiet for the rest of the drive until we arrived at the gate, a property surrounded by tall fences and trees, making it appear like we were entering the dark forest.

The guard must have recognized the vehicle because the gate immediately slid to the right, giving us an entryway. We drove for a while until we came to the clearing and my mouth just about dropped.

At the end of the large property stood a manicured lawn with elaborate manor estate, lit from the inside and out, glowing in the distance. The marble grand staircase cascaded in front of the house, giving it a regal look. The house was massive, probably ten mansions combined on Gibson Island would be smaller than this place.

“You live here?” I asked in shock.

“Welcome home, Bianca.”

There was no way he lived here alone. The freaking place was massive. Not huge, but massive.

“Please tell me you don’t live with your parents,” I muttered.

“No, just me. Now it will be just us.”