‘I knew it. I knew it. You did.’
I bet it wasn’t Nan’s inheritance, that half a mill Mum had in the bank. Nana never had any cash. It was all my dad’s. Now that’s a motive if ever I heard one.
‘Anyway, do you want their number? I have Riccardo’s details here.’
‘I don’t need Riccardo’s number.’ I’m not going to babysit.
‘I would have asked Domenico, but he seems to have disappeared. Actually, now I’ve got you, darling, have you got any money? I need ten thousand just for bail –’
The line goes dead. They’ve cut her off. I sit down on the bed in stunned silence. My head flops on the pillow by Nino’s. I let the phone fall from my hand. Oh my God, my mother’s a murderer. I don’t know why I’m so surprised. Where did I think I got it from? Ha. It’s clearly in my genes. Now there’s nothing special about me. That was my one USP. She’s a killer. I’m a killer. Everyone’s killing everybody. But the difference is I’m not going to get caught. I’m next generation. 2.0. New and improved. Advanced.
I look down at Nino’s body lying helpless on the bed. The smell of vomit wafts from the floor. There’s the drip, drip, drip of his blood. He was never going to marry me. How could I be so naive? He wore that ring for less than an hour. It’s what I wanted to believe. He said so himself; this whole week was a test. Well, you failed my test, asshole. I’m the one in the driver’s seat now. I am the one in control. I wanted him dead. Of course I did. That was the plan all along. It was never my sister’s voice in my head. What am I? Insane? Schizophrenic? That was my subconscious talking. It was just my fucked-up conscience. I knew what I had to do. I knew what was needed . . .
If anyone asks about that bomb, if anyone finds this corpse, I’ll tell them that Nino pulled the ring and then he took me hostage. It’s perfect. I killed him in self-defence. I had no other option. Who do you think they are going to believe? The girl or the dead fucking hitman?
If I can kill this ruthless mobster, if I can kill the love of my life, then I’m more hardcore than I thought. I can kill anyone dead.
Yes. Yes, I’m Alvina Knightly.
That Ed Forbes had better be scared.
So put on your big boy pants, Mr Forbes.
I’m coming for you next.
Acknowledgments
BAD was the difficult second novel, but writing this book was so much fun. My deepest thanks go to the following for their incredible support: Paolo Esposito, Lisa Taleb, Richard Skinner, Matilda McDonald, Jessica Leeke and the team at Michael Joseph, Maya Ziv and the team at Dutton, Simon Trewin, Anna Dixon and the team at WME, Tim Bonsor, Claudette Bonsor, Lydia Ruffles, Felicia Yap, Michael Dias, Ilana Lindsey, Helen Allen, Emma Vandor, Issy Mahmoud, Maria Ghibu, Yasmeen Westwood-Ali, David Westwood, Chris Elvidge, Johhny Pariseau and Mike Deluca and Michael De Luca Productions, Chloe Yellin at Universal Studios, Senja Andrejevic-Bullock, Matilda Munro, Victoria Leung, Charlotte Murray, Andrea Vasiliou, Vanya Mavrodieva . . . I am sure there are many, many more that I am forgetting and for that I apologise! But I couldn’t write this trilogy without you. You make everything possible. All my love, Chloé xxx
About the Author
Chloé Esposito grew up in Cheltenham and now lives in London with her husband and daughters. She has a BA and MA in English from the University of Oxford and has worked as a senior management consultant, an English teacher, and a fashion journalist. Esposito is a graduate of the Faber Academy, and this is her second novel.
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