Todos os capítulos de A Wife For Nico Vescari: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 60

~NICO~By the time we reached Via Veneto, traffic had collapsed into disorder. Cars were angled across two lanes, and a small crowd had already begun forming at a distance. Enzo slowed as we approached the wreckage.Raffaele’s car was upside down in the middle of the street.Two other vehicles were damaged nearby, one with its front crushed inward from impact. Several bodies were on the pavement, some clearly dead, others moving weakly. The smell of burned rubber and leaking fuel carried through the open windows.Enzo parked at an angle that would allow for a fast exit. We stepped out immediately.I assessed the area before moving closer. There was no active gunfire, but this had happened less than a minute ago. Civilians were retreating in all directions, and someone nearby was shouting into a phone, likely calling the police.We approached the overturned car. Blood ran along the driver’s side door and pooled beneath the shattered glass. The interior was visible through the broken wi

~CAKE~The music in the club had gotten louder as the night went on. The lights kept shifting across the dance floor, reds and purples flashing over bodies moving too close together, people shouting over the music and laughing like they didn’t have responsibilities waiting for them tomorrow.Our table in the VVIP had turned into a small disaster zone. Empty glasses, a bottle of vodka that was already halfway gone, champagne sweating in its bucket, and a plate of things nobody had touched because apparently we came here to drink, not eat.Sienna was standing on the couch at this point, dancing with zero shame, one arm in the air while Elianna hyped her up like she was performing for a crowd of thousands instead of three slightly drunk women and a couple of security guards pretending not to look.I leaned back into the couch and took another drag from the joint, holding the smoke in my lungs for a second before letting it out slowly.My head felt warm in that comfortable way where every

~NICO~The VVIP section was darker than the rest of the club, designed that way on purpose, everything was built to make the place feel more like a secret than a room. Tonight it looked like a performance.A small crowd had gathered around the central platform where the girls usually entertained the high-paying guests, and that’s where I saw them.Three figures on the raised table in the center of the room.Elianna was the first I recognized, her long dark hair cascading down her back as she moved with the kind of effortless grace only someone born into power could manage. She wasn’t really dancing so much as gliding with the music, one hand lazily gripping a champagne glass.My sister stood a few feet away from her, dressed in a short black dress. She was laughing at something Elianna said, her movements playful, confident.But neither of them were what held the room.Cake was.She stood on the center table like she owned the damn thing.The lighting above her shifted as she moved,

~NICO~Rome at night had a particular rhythm to it. The city never really slept; it only slowed down slightly, like a man loosening his tie after a long day but refusing to leave the office.From the back seat of the car, I watched the streets glide past through the tinted window while Enzo sat beside me with one elbow resting against the door.Traffic crawled through the center of the city. Tourists still wandered along the sidewalks even at this hour with their phones out, cameras flashing at anything that looked remotely Roman enough to send back home.Normally I ignored it.Tonight my mind was elsewhere.“The Lisbon contact answered,” Enzo said, glancing down at the tablet in his hand. “But he’s cautious.”“Cautious is good,” I replied.“Not when we’re trying to break into a briefcase designed by a paranoid bastard.”I leaned back slightly in the seat. The briefcase Raffaele had gotten his hands on still sat locked in my office, mocking every technician who had tried to open it. T

~CAKE~Lunch had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.The restaurant was on a quiet street not far from the studio, all glass windows and soft music and the kind of menu that used words like artisan and seasonal next to everything. Normally Elianna and I were the annoying customers who interrogated the waiter about ingredients like detectives with a warrant. Today we were too busy scrolling through the ridiculous number of selfies we had taken after the shoot.Sienna leaned across the table, laughing as Elianna swiped through the pictures on her phone.“Oh my God, look at this one,” Elianna said, turning the screen toward us. “Cake, your face looks like you’re about to punch the photographer.”“That’s because he told me to ‘look natural’ while I was standing there half naked on a beach,” I said dryly.Sienna snorted. “You did look good though.”“I always look good,” I said automatically, stabbing a fork into the pasta in front of me.None of us had really paid much attention to t