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A Wife For Nico Vescari
img img A Wife For Nico Vescari img Chapter 1 Prologue
1 Chapters
Chapter 6 Five img
Chapter 7 Six img
Chapter 8 Seven img
Chapter 9 Eight img
Chapter 10 Nine img
Chapter 11 Ten img
Chapter 12 Eleven img
Chapter 13 Twelve img
Chapter 14 Thirteen img
Chapter 15 Fourteen img
Chapter 16 Fifteen img
Chapter 17 Sixteen img
Chapter 18 Seventeen img
Chapter 19 Eighteen img
Chapter 20 Nineteen img
Chapter 21 Twenty img
Chapter 22 Twenty-One img
Chapter 23 Twenty-Two img
Chapter 24 Twenty-Three img
Chapter 25 Twenty-Four img
Chapter 26 Twenty-Five img
Chapter 27 Twenty-Six img
Chapter 28 Twenty-Seven img
Chapter 29 Twenty-Eight img
Chapter 30 Twenty-Nine img
Chapter 31 Thirty img
Chapter 32 Thirty-One img
Chapter 33 Thirty-Two img
Chapter 34 Thirty-Three img
Chapter 35 Thirty-Four img
Chapter 36 Thirty-Five img
Chapter 37 Thirty-Six img
Chapter 38 Thirty-Seven img
Chapter 39 Thirty-Eight img
Chapter 40 Thirty-Nine img
Chapter 41 Forty img
Chapter 42 Forty-One img
Chapter 43 Forty-Two img
Chapter 44 Forty-Three img
Chapter 45 Forty-Four img
Chapter 46 Forty-Five img
Chapter 47 Forty-Six img
Chapter 48 Forty-Seven img
Chapter 49 Forty-Eight img
Chapter 50 Forty-Nine img
Chapter 51 Fifty img
Chapter 52 Fifty-One img
Chapter 53 Fifty-Two img
Chapter 54 Fifty-Three img
Chapter 55 Fifty-Four img
Chapter 56 Fifty-Five img
Chapter 57 Fifty-Six img
Chapter 58 Fifty-Seven img
Chapter 59 Fifty-Eight img
Chapter 60 Fifty-Nine img
Chapter 61 Sixty img
Chapter 62 Sixty-One img
Chapter 63 Sixty-Two img
Chapter 64 Sixty-Three img
Chapter 65 Sixty-Four img
Chapter 66 Sixty-Five img
Chapter 67 Sixty-Six img
Chapter 68 Sixty-Seven– Dinner Games img
Chapter 69 Sixty-Eight – Push and Pull img
Chapter 70 Sixty-Nine – Kill Them All img
Chapter 71 Seventy img
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A Wife For Nico Vescari

Author: Xahari_Aria
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Chapter 1 Prologue

It started with a punch.

Literally.

First time in the ring, and everyone thought I'd get flattened. Nobody bet on me except one random drunk guy and maybe a bored janitor. But when I landed that last blow and my opponent hit the mat, the whole place went quiet-then loud, then louder. Turns out, nobody expected the underdog to win.

I won big. Or at least, I was supposed to.

But when I went to collect my money, the fat bastard in the office told me they'd "lost track" of my share. I told him to find it. He told me to get lost. Then he and his crew shoved me out, locked the damn door, and left like they hadn't just robbed me.

So I waited. Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Long enough for them to think I was gone. Then I picked the lock and walked right back in.

I only took what was mine-no more, no less. Fair trade. The heavy wad of bills was snug and bulky inside my worn messenger bag that was a gift a long time ago.

I was just stepping out, zipping my bag, when another guy walked past me and straight into the same room. I shrugged, figured maybe he was there for what they owed him too.

Then the shooting started.

I had only one thought in my mind-to get out as soon and quietly as possible. I'd barely taken a few steps when I hit a wall of rock-hard abs that belonged to a tanned, masculine body. The bags we were both carrying dropped with a thud.

In a rush, we clawed at our possessions. My eyes snapped up to his face as I held my bag to my chest instinctively. His eyes were as shifty as mine, dark and sharp, assessing me in a heartbeat. The only thing keeping our lips apart was the stupid mask on our faces.

I could trust him. Maybe.

But there was no time to be sure.

We heard hushed voices coming down the narrow corridor, and he took the lead, gripping his bag too. Sincerely, I was quite content to follow; at least he seemed to know his way around this deadly den and didn't mind. After about twenty long and frustrating minutes of weaving in and out of shadows and utility tunnels, we finally emerged into an open space lit by a single bare bulb.

He moved fast to the opposite hard wire fence and began to climb. I joined too without hesitation, but stopped short when all I could see on the other side was a ten-meter drop onto asphalt. I swallowed hard-and then the bitches started shooting.

Yeah, at us.

As if it wasn't bad enough that my only options were to get carved by gunpowder or become roadkill, he was already at the top of the fence, looking down at me with eyes as flat and dark as the night sky behind him. And for a split second, I thought he would push me, leave me to fend for myself. It's not like he knows me.

I braced myself when he said the first words I ever heard from him:

"Trust me."

Words like that could mess you up in this line of work. Then he did something I didn't expect, he stretched out a hand. Even I knew when not to doubt a helping hand.

I sighed. Well, roadkill it is then.

I clasped his hand and his firm grip pulled me up out of the line of fire.

I hurriedly climbed, jumped off when he did, and landed on a dusty but soft gymnast bed someone had conveniently forgotten below. We could hear them on the other side-swearing, shooting, their dogs barking angrily. But we'd made it out, smiling like a couple of teenagers and gave them the finger.

I glanced at him, entertaining the idea of a formal introduction but realizing it was better we remained strangers. But weirdly, it felt like the start of a pretty, ugly friendship. His gaze stayed on my face and I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

I gave him a two finger salute, adjusted my bag and broke into a run. He didn't leave until I turned down the damp street, only then did I hear the stomping of boots in the opposite direction. I didn't look back. I just ran until the sound of the hounds and the gunshots faded into the general noise of the city night, taking my stolen winnings, and half of a friendship with me.

            
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