The Good Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

heart stung with a mixture of anger and emptiness.
    He turned to stare out the window at the houses they passed as Marisa, a skillful driver, pressed the stolen black BMW as fast as she could, expertly navigating the crowded, early-morning streets. He knew the New York suburban commuter traffic was no challenge compared to her native Napoli where the roads were as wide as a sidewalk, and all Italian drivers imagined they were a Formula One race car driver.
    She’d almost gotten them to the city.
    After minutes of sullen silence, he drew a deep breath, stiffened his spine, and turned back to Marisa. “I will kill your father, you know.”
    “ Si. ” Her lips pinched together, her eyes narrowed. “It is for the best.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
    Hugging herself against the chill in the air, feeling an even deeper chill seeping through her veins, Nia Crocetti watched the black BMW drive away. When she could no longer see it, she still stared, the image of her husband with another woman seared into her brain.
    He’d left her. Sandro, the love of her life. With another woman. The picture replayed itself in her mind. A woman sitting behind the steering wheel, with dark hair and sunglasses, showing no more than her profile. But then Sandro had gotten into the car and the woman had leaned over to kiss him. . . .
    Nia’s stomach spun, threatening to make her sick; her chest squeezed and contracted so hard it hurt to breathe. She hadn’t seen it coming. There had been no hint, no warning. She reached into her memory for signs she might have missed. Barely noticing the cold wind stinging her face, she staggered back inside, shut the door, and collapsed.
    Her marriage was over. Just like that. Nia fought to retain control over her emotions, part of her refusing to believe what she’d seen. Her throat clogged with choked back tears, her eyes ached. She pressed the heel of her hands against her eyes, wiped an escaping tear. She wouldn’t cry. She was a trained athlete. She knew how to control pain. But it was damned hard.
    What about their son, what would she tell him? And the pregnancy test she’d taken earlier this morning . . . Sandro hadn’t known. She hadn’t been able to tell him before he left.
    Her gaze darted about the room. Her home. Their home. She loved every inch.
    Drawn as if by a magnet, she moved to their wedding picture. She and Sandro looked so happy, so in love. Her white dress contrasted with her tanned skin and dark hair. Having done many commercials and photo shoots for the national team’s various soccer sponsors, she knew she was an attractive woman. But on her wedding day, she had felt truly beautiful, like a princess. And her husband was the gorgeous prince with his formal black tuxedo, olive skin dark from the sun, curly brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. Nia lovingly traced the frame, the metal cool under her fingers.
    She smashed it to the marble floor. The shattering glass echoed in the room, the scattered pieces resembling her broken heart.
    Shaking, she sank to her knees. Hiding her face in her hands, needing to escape reality, if just for a moment, she remembered. How crazy in love she had been, what a wonderful life she and Sandro had planned together, what a wonderful life they had . But he’d found someone else, and had no more use for her. How had it happened?
    “ Momma?” The little voice came from the top of the stairs.
    Wiping stray tears and unanswered questions aside, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to her feet. She had decisions to make. But they would have to wait.
    “ Momma?”
    “ Coming, amore mio . Momma’s coming.”
    She walked up the staircase. Daniele, a little miniature of his father with soft curly hair, stood behind the gate. At two years old, he was still too small to manage all the steps. She opened the gate, picked him up, snuggled against his fuzzy pajamas. He was still warm from sleep.
    “ My sweet bambino .”
    The