2. A severed bloody hand

NINA

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ANTONIO Rossi’s hotel was nothing short of opulence—the kind of place where the elite came to drink expensive champagne and pretend their lives were perfect. I didn’t belong there, not in my secondhand clothes and scuffed shoes, but I kept my head down and did my job.

The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and cigars. It was early afternoon, and the crowd was light—just a handful of top-tier businessmen and tourists who wanted to experience the best of Italy. I maneuvered through the tables, balancing a tray of glasses, ignoring the lingering gazes of the patrons.

Antonio was the reason I was there.

He was the kind of man who didn’t do favors without expecting something in return, but he was also the reason I had a roof over my head and a steady paycheck. He found me when I was at my lowest, like some kind of godsend angel. And even though I knew he was anything but, I chose to trust him because I needed his money. Without it, I would’ve lost the one thing that kept me going—the only reason I hadn’t given up.

When he didn’t ask for anything in return, it unnerved me. I didn’t want his charity. So I promised I’d pay him back, even if it took years of relentless work. Strangely enough, he was the one who gave me the job to do so. Little did he know, he wasn’t the only one I had to pay back. For that, I owed him more than he’d ever understand. The paycheck from working at his hotel wasn’t just for him—it was for the people who were coming for my life.

But I still didn’t trust him. Not fully.

The afternoon dragged on, and even though it was less crowded than other days, I still felt drained, the strain in my muscles more pronounced than ever. I needed uninterrupted sleep without nightmares, and that could only happen if I took more of those sleeping pills. I hated how they left me for dead, unaware of what was happening around me, but I needed them to function properly.

As the evening rolled on and I ended my shift at 8 p.m., I caught a glimpse of Antonio with his wife. She had been in the news for capturing the heart of the most ruthless man in the country. Whenever I looked at them, I wondered what she could possibly see in that man to love him the way she did. He was rumored to be heartless and associated with the mafia, and she was half his size, looking like he could break her without much effort. But maybe there was more to the Italian mobster than just the cold, monstrous facade he showed to the world. After all, he had helped me, so maybe he wasn’t as bad as the rumors suggested.

Yet, I looked down and made my way to the exit, not wanting his attention on me. There was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way—from his generosity when he helped me with the money to the way he offered me a job without asking for anything in return.

I tried to get some sleep as I boarded the city bus, traveling from one corner to another. But I couldn’t. Restlessness clawed at me, and the feeling of being watched returned tenfold. I glanced around; the bus was full, and no one seemed to be paying me any attention. Even the man sitting beside me was half-asleep with his head resting against the window. I envied him—how could he fall asleep so easily when I couldn’t, even though I was bone-tired?

By the time the bus stopped at the last stop—my stop—there were only two of us left: the sleeping man and me. As I stood up and took a step down the aisle, I paused and tapped his shoulder, thinking to let him know it was the last stop. But as he straightened, I noticed two things at once, and cold fear gripped me. Besides the mask and the low cap pulled over his head, there was a gun peeking from the waistband of his jeans.

With my heart pounding and my breaths coming in shallow gasps, I bolted out of the bus and didn’t stop running until I reached the diner. It was a dingy little place just a block from my apartment. It smelled like grease and stale coffee, the kind of place that attracted night owls and the drunks.

And him.

The mysterious man with midnight black hair and piercing green eyes, who wore a new black suit every night he came in for his late-night coffee.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and always dressed in a black coat that made him look like he’d stepped out of a noir film. He always sat in the same booth, tucked into the far corner where the light barely reached, and ordered the same thing—a black coffee.

I didn’t even know his name, but I found myself waiting for him every night as midnight approached. Watching the door as the minutes ticked by, wondering if tonight would be the night he didn’t show.

“Hey, girl, the man at your booth is running out of patience,” Sheena, my co-worker who’s also working odd hours just to pay her student loans, nudged my side.

I followed her gaze and sighed. “He gives me creeps. He has been coming here since last four days and he always tries to touch me inappropriately.”

“I noticed. I told Mr Weasel about it, he said he’ll come tomorrow and warn the guy off.” She patted my shoulder as she said, “Just one more night that you have to deal with him.” And then with a teasing grin, she added, “Soon you’ll have your crush to fixate on.”

I felt my cheeks warming and I shook my head. “He is not my crush. He’s just good to look at.”

“Tell me about it.” She sighed dreamily. “If he hadn’t been too old for me I’d be all over him.”

A sudden spark of jealousy flared inside me but I pushed it away and said, “Get back to work, and let me do so too.”

After subtly ignoring the creepy man and his advances as I brought him his order of coke and a beef burger, I was wiping one of the tables when I heard the little bell over the door jingle and awareness settled over me. I looked up at the clock and noticed it was ten minutes after twelve. He was late.

When I finished wiping the table, I made my way to the counter to prepare his coffee. But as I passed by the creepy man, he slapped my arse loud enough that the sound echoed in the quiet diner.

“What the hell?” I heard Sheena mutter.

Slowly, I turned to face the man and he gave me a lopsided smile as he said, “For how long you’ll continue to serve me this burger, I want something more da questa cosa carina.”

I swallowed and said, “Sir, please, don’t touch me and I have told you I’m not interested.”

“But I am,” he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, trying to force me down on his lap.

I could feel the eyes burning on me but I didn’t have it in me to look up, and if I thought that he’ll come to rescue me, I was wrong. It was Sheena who came with a frying pan in her hand and struck the man’s arm with enough force that he screamed.

“Get out before the cops come, or I swear I’ll throw in every charge there is!”

The man cursed at us in all the colorful languages he knew as he made his way to the exit with hate in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Sheena asked, her hand squeezing my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah...” I took a step back from her. Even though I starved for the physical touch, I didn’t feel comfortable with anyone touching me. “Thanks.”

She nodded and then her gaze went to the only man in the diner, who was on his phone. She said, “Motherfucker could’ve helped, but chose to sit there and watch it unfold.” Turning back to me, she said, “I renounce what I said earlier, don’t find him attractive at all. And you should also forget about your crush.”

“I do not have a crush on him.” I repeated even as I knew she’d choose not to believe me.

“Let’s close up early tonight. Give him his coffee and tell him to fuck off.”

I risked a glance at the man who steals my attention every time he appears in the diner, and sometimes I even imagine him as my Mr Wrong when the faceless man I have been talking to texts dirty. He was busy typing on his phone, but then as if feeling my eyes on him he looked up. Unable to meet those bright green eyes, I stared down at the cup of coffee in my hand.

As I walked to him and sat the cup in front of him, I said, “Your coffee.”

He didn't look up from his phone and didn’t say a word. He never does.

I lingered longer than I should've, my curiosity gnawing at me, but I forced myself to move on. It’s not my business who he is or why he comes here, I told myself. And turned around, going to sit beside Sheena who was busy texting her boyfriend, and to wait for him to finish his coffee and leave, so we could close up.

But I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened when I sat down and looked up to find his greens on me.

His phone rang and he answered it. With his eyes on me, he listened to whoever was on the other side as he sipped on his coffee. I felt overwhelmed and was unable to maintain the eye contact, it felt invasive so I was the first one to look away.

As he ended the call, he finished the rest of his coffee and stood up. Like he had been doing for the last three weeks he put down two crisp notes of five hundred euros on the table and made his way to the exit. I didn’t understand it. He never talks to me. Doesn’t say a word except occasional nod and his eye contact that makes me feel things I shouldn’t for a complete stranger and then he leaves thousand euros for a ten euro coffee.

“At least he pays enough in tip to not boycott him completely, yeah?” Sheena was saying, but I just watched as he disappeared out into the cold night.

Ten minutes later, we both were walking away from the diner after closing it. And while Sheena was busy on the phone with her boyfriend, I texted Riley to tell her that I will meet her tomorrow for lunch.

“Hey, bye! Will see you again tonight...” Sheena gave me a quick hug before I could step back and then laughed. She said, “Take care. Walk safe and text me when you reach your apartment.”

I nodded and waved at her as she turned to go her separate way. My apartment building was only a five minute walk from where she goes her separate way, but because I wanted to save some money I chose to live in this less safe area rather than accept her offer of living with her. Even half of the rent for her apartment was double mine, so I didn’t accept it. I already have too many debts weighing on me to be spending like that.

The streets were quiet around me as I made my way back to my apartment, the cold air biting at my cheeks. But it was the feeling of being watched that I once again felt which made me quicken my steps.

As I was speed walking, my phone pinged with a new text. Thinking that Riley must’ve replied, I checked and found a text from him.

Mr Wrong: Do you believe in an eye for an eye?

Nina: Depends.

Mr Wrong: On what?

Nina: What if the other person only has one eye to begin with.

Mr Wrong: What if he has both?

Nina: Still. Maybe he doesn’t deserve it.

Mr Wrong: What if he does?

Nina: In your perspective, maybe. In his, he might not have any other choice.

Mr Wrong: Fine. Tell me, will you kill for love?”

I paused. My fingers hovering over the keypad. Will I kill for love? The only person I loved depended on me to protect him. So, yeah.

Nina: Yes.

I waited for him to reply back. He didn’t. And I was about to send him another text but I didn’t get the chance to as a scuffle sounded behind me. For a brief second I froze, and even as a part of me demanded to look back I couldn’t. And the feeling of being stalked grew stronger, like a shadow trailing just out of sight— waiting to pounce on me any second. I wasn’t brave enough to look back, so with my fingers tight around my phone, I ran and ran and ran.

I ran until I was at my apartment building and only took in a lungful of breath when I was behind my apartment door with the three locks in place.

My phone pinged and I saw another text from him.

Mr Wrong: I broke someone’s arm because he touched what wasn’t his.

I stared at the text. And read it again and again. From all the texts until now, I’ve gathered that the man behind these texts was probably violent and had some issues, but to actually break someone’s arm...

Another text came in, this time it was an image. And as the image downloaded, I almost dropped my phone when I saw what it was.

A severed bloody hand.

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To all my dear new readers....

This book can be read as a STANDALONE, and for better understanding of the characters you can read BRIDE TO BE, it's completed!!

For Antonio Rossi's book, check out: CAGED- A Dark Billionaire Captîve Romance, also completed.

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For my darlings, who have already read Bride To Be.... who do you think is Mr Wrong????

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Hope you all are ready for the journey ahead and will enjoy it!!

Thankyou

A. Gupta