~ Niamh ~
I was restless.
I've tried to guess what could be the reason Massimo was so worked up at breakfast that he didn't even bade his son goodbye before leaving.
He had moved from the smiling father curious about his son's education to the ready-to-kill mafia boss dishing out threats and leaving without a backward glance in the blink of an eye.
His father had called and from the look on his face the message wasn't a good one.
What was wrong? Were the Irish and Russians closing in on us?
So many soldiers patrolled the grounds of the estate and Dario made sure that we were always in his line of sight, but I still couldn't shake off the bad feeling of an impending attack.
And God help me, I was worried about Massimo too.
What if he was under attack now? Or maybe fighting a war?
Oh Niamh, stop! I scolded myself, combing my hand through my hair in frustration.
Why am I worried about Massimo? That's an abomination to myself.
