Chapter 9 - The Return of Gerald
Late that evening, Nico’s slate-grey Maybach sedan pulled up in front of a small, quiet brownstone building on a tree-lined street in Gold Coast.
It wasn't Vanessa’s old apartment building in Lincoln Park, nor was it the high-tech fortress of Bellandi Tower.
It was a beautiful, historic three-story limestone home built in 1895, featuring restored stained-glass windows, a private rear courtyard, and a magnificent dark oak front door.
Nico put the car in park, stepped out, and opened the passenger door for Vanessa.
She stepped onto the clean pavement, looking up at the illuminated windows of the limestone house.
"Whose house is this?" Vanessa asked, turning to look at him.
Nico pulled a heavy brass key from his suit pocket and pressed it gently into her palm.
"It’s yours," Nico said softly.
Vanessa looked down at the brass key resting in her hand, then back up at his handsome, scarred face. "Nico... this house is worth four million dollars."
"It’s registered in your name, Vanessa," Nico said, taking her hand and walking up the wide stone steps toward the front door. "Fully paid, no mortgages, no debt service, and no offshore shell vehicles attached."
He unlocked the heavy dark oak door and pushed it open.
The interior of the house was warm, beautifully furnished, and filled with the smell of fresh cedarwood, polished leather, and hot tea. A massive floor-to-ceiling fireplace glowed with soft amber flames in the grand living room.
Vanessa stepped onto the thick Persian rug, looking around the breathtaking space in complete wonder.
"Why?" she whispered, turning to face him.
Nico stepped into the foyer, closing the dark oak door behind them. He took off his suit coat, tossed it onto a velvet chair, and stepped close to her, wrapping his long arms around her waist.
"Because you spent years hiding your genius in small rooms, Vanessa," Nico whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "I wanted you to have a home that was big enough for your mind. A home where you never have to apologize for taking up space."
Vanessa let out a soft, breathless sound that was half a laugh and half a sob. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him deeply, pouring all her warmth, gratitude, and love into the touch.
Nico responded with fierce, protective devotion, lifting her off her feet and holding her close against his heart.
When they finally broke the kiss, a quiet, low sound echoed from the top of the grand oak staircase.
Meow.
Vanessa froze.
She slowly turned her head toward the stairs.
Sitting on the top step, glaring down at them under the warm light of the chandelier, was an enormously fat, thoroughly unimpressed orange tabby cat.
The cat had a slightly crooked left ear, a thick tail, and a face that looked as though it held a deep, personal grudge against the entire human race.
Vanessa’s mouth opened in total, unadulterated shock.
"Is that..." she gasped, pointing a trembling finger at the stairs.
"That," Nico said smoothly, his lips curving into a broad, magnificent smile, "is Gerald."
Vanessa turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Nico... Gerald was a fake photo I pulled off a shelter adoption page two years ago!"
"I know," Nico replied, holding her close against his side. "So I had Marcus track down the shelter in Joliet yesterday morning. It turns out he was still there. Nobody wanted to adopt him because he bites people who wear loafers."
On the top step, the fat orange cat let out another long, demanding meow, stretched his front paws, and began casually licking his right hip with absolute indifference to their presence.
Vanessa looked at the fat orange cat, then at the mafia boss who had bought a four-million-dollar house and tracked down a feral shelter cat just to make her smile.
She buried her face in Nico’s chest, laughing so hard tears filled her eyes.
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"You are completely insane, Nico Bellandi," Vanessa laughed, resting her hands against his broad chest.
"I'm a man who pays attention to details, sweetheart," Nico whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Now, tell me about his litter box schedule. Is it pink for the morning shift?"
