Crimson Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 7

My eyes snap open. The doorbell echoes a relentless chime that spikes my pulse. I lurch upright, the silk sheets slipping from my grasp.

“Shit!” I exclaim. Breathless, I plant my palms on the mattress, steadying myself. “Nico.”

Marco stirs, his brow furrowing as he sits upright next to me. “What’s going on?” he moans, still groggy.

“You have to go,” I gasp.

“What?”

“Dammit,” I whine as I scramble out of bed. “I have a date picking me up, and we fell asleep. You need to leave now. Out the back.”

“Date?” His concern shifts to confusion, then realization. “I don’t slip out the back. I told you that you can see other men, but you won’t hide me.”

Urgency fuels my movements. The floor is cold under my feet. I need to move, to think. My mind races, chasing down the seconds I’ve lost.

I dart to the closet, searching for something to wear. Marco watches me, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe you should cancel it,” he suggests. “Stay here in bed with me.”

“Marco.” I huff. “Not funny. We agreed you wouldn’t get in the way of me dating other men.”

“Come on, Gia.” He steps out of the bed and moves closer to me, that mischievous glint not fading. “We both know you’d rather be here.”

I shake my head, insistent. “He’s waiting for me. Can we not do this right now?” I snap, tugging on a summer dress with a floral print until it slips from the hanger.

“Fine.” Marco’s smirk disappears, replaced by a hard edge. “But remember our terms, amore mio.” His gaze pins me, unmovable. “I don’t slink around for anyone and won’t be made a fool of.”

“Understood,” I huff in frustration.

“So who is this mystery man?”

Before I can answer him, the doorbell rings again.

I sigh. “I told you last night, it’s Nico.”

Marco is quiet for a moment before he stands and slides his pants on. “You take your time getting ready, and I’ll entertain him.”

“Absolutely not!” I exclaim.

Marco chuckles, and it’s clear he has no intention of listening to me as he moves toward my bedroom door. “He’s my friend, Gia. What do you think I’m going to do? I’ll be on my best behavior,” he assures me.

“If you so much as glare at Nico...” I let the threat hang between us.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says before making his way down the stairs.

The last thing I want to do is leave these two men together waiting on me, but showing up for a date with Nico smelling like sex with Marco would be inconsiderate, to say the least. I race to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and drop my chosen outfit on the vanity. I step in, and water pelts my skin, hot and insistent. Steam clouds around me, a shroud over the chaos in my head. Emotions tangle—fear, excitement, defiance. My hands move mechanically, lathering and rinsing as if I can wash away the tension that knots my stomach.

The doorbell’s echo fades as Marco’s footsteps retreat downstairs. His presence is a constant hum in the back of my mind. I imagine him opening the door to Nico, all charm and danger wrapped in one devastatingly handsome package.

I shut off the water, the silence deafening. Droplets race across my skin as I reach for a towel, wrapping it around myself while condensation beads on the mirror, obscuring my reflection. It’s better this way—no need to see the worry etched into my face.

Clothes cling to damp skin, a reminder of the rush. My hair hangs heavy, strands sticking to my neck and shoulders, but there is no time to dry it. I apply a small amount of blush, mascara, and lipstick before turning toward the stairs.

“Marco?” My voice wavers, belying my attempt at composure.

“Down here, Gia.” His tone, casual, too casual, carries up to me.

Rounding the corner, I brace for friction, the spark that ignites when two forces like theirs meet. But there’s nothing—just two men, relaxed, a sight so unexpected it stops me in my tracks.

“Wow, Gia.” Nico’s voice is warm and genuine. He stands, his height and build filling the space. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Nico.” My words are a whisper, surprise, making them fragile. “But we both know I look like a drowned rat.”

Marco rises next, and his eyes rake over me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “Bellissima,” he murmurs, and I can’t tell if it’s admiration or something darker dancing in his gaze.

“Okay, seriously. Thanks, but you two are far too nice. I literally jumped out of the shower and rushed down here. I have to admit this wasn’t what I expected to find when I came downstairs,” I state, caught in the crossfire of their attention. The air shifts, charged with the unspoken, but for now, we’re just three people suspended in a moment of peace.

Marco’s stride closes the distance between us in seconds. His hand finds my waist, tugging me into him. The smell of his cologne, a mix of leather and spice, envelops me.

“And what exactly did you expect to find?” he breathes, voice a low rumble.

I stand, quietly observing the two men for a moment before I reply, “One of you bleeding.” My heart flutters, betraying my calm facade.

Marco laughs, and Nico eyes me for a moment before joining him.

“Come on, Gia. We’re all friends,” Nico chimes in with a reassuring smile, defusing the tension in the air.

I breathe out a nervous chuckle. “Exactly.”

Marco’s grip doesn’t falter as he leans down to press a lingering kiss on my temple before stepping back. “Well, you two enjoy your day,” he says softly. “I really have to get going.”

Their easy camaraderie baffles me, the absence of tension cutting through my own armor. Marco’s departure looms. I watch him leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

Nico’s presence beside me offers a lifeline; his warm smile is a comfort. “Shall we?” he prompts, his hand outstretched in a silent invitation. I’m thankful he doesn’t bring up the fact Marco clearly woke up here.

I nod, my throat tight with unspoken words and uncertainty. With a deep breath, I lace my fingers with his, intertwining our paths as we enter the world outside. The day beckons, filled with promises and whispered secrets yet to unfold, but I can’t help but think about how surreal the entire scene that unfolded feels.

As we walk down the sunlit street, a burning desire to ask what in the fuck Marco said to him begins to overwhelm me.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Nico, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t expect him to... We just fell asleep.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Nico reassures me.

“Thanks.” I offer a shaky smile, grateful for his understanding.

I shuffle my feet, the silence stretching between us.

“Look, Gia...” Nico begins, his jaw clenching as he searches for the right words. “If I had known about you and Marco, I wouldn’t have...”

“Asked me out?” My voice is a whisper, daring to cut through the tension.

“Yeah.” He runs a hand over his bald head in a gesture of discomfort. “That’s not how I operate. I wasn’t trying to be underhanded or anything.”

“Then I am glad you didn’t know about us when you called,” I assure him. I study him for a moment before I continue, “Marco... he didn’t say anything to make you think—?”

“No.” Nico interrupts, shaking his head. “I had no idea about you two, but after talking with Marco this morning, I assumed it must be a newer thing.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity.

Nico shrugs, his expression unreadable. “He didn’t give much away; he said you and he were getting to know each other.”

My gaze narrows at his cryptic response, a surge of protectiveness rising within me. “We’re not exclusive,” I offer tentatively.

Nico’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of understanding passing between us. “Got it,” he replies simply, veiling any deeper emotions beneath a composed exterior.

I exhale slowly, intrigued by the thought Marco didn’t threaten to harm Nico for dating me. Perhaps he meant it when he told me he would share me if that’s what I wanted.

Nico shifts, breaking our gaze as he glances at his watch. “I’m starving. I booked us brunch at a place near the park.”

“Brunch sounds amazing,” I say, my voice more even than I feel. “I’m starving too.” After the multiple rounds with Marco overnight, I had worked up quite an appetite.

I’m surprised when Nico guides me to the subway rather than picking me up in one of the King family cars. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t have access to them whenever he wants or because he prefers the method of travel, but something about it is refreshing.

We weave through the throngs of people, each step putting distance between us and the weight of the morning’s tension. I sense his gaze on me occasionally, quiet as we reach our destination.

“Central Park is beautiful this time of year,” I mention, trying to keep the conversation light and airy.

“Nothing beats New York in the spring,” he agrees, with an appreciation in his voice.

The early sun warms my skin. With each block we cross, I find myself unwinding, loosening the knot in my stomach.

We cross another intersection, the walk signal blinking its steady rhythm. My heart matches the tempo, buoyant with newfound freedom. I can’t remember the last time I felt this unburdened or alive. I can’t figure out if it stems from my night with Marco or the promise of today with Nico.

As we approach the restaurant, Nico comments, “Smells good.” The scent of coffee and cooked breakfast wafts toward us.

“Smells like heaven,” I agree, my stomach reminding me how much I’m looking forward to this meal.

The brunch place is a cozy corner establishment, its windows fogged with warmth. We enter, and the rich and promising aroma envelops us.

“Table for two?” The hostess smiles, her eyes darting back and forth between us.

Nico gives his name for the reservation as my eyes take in the colorful decor and beautiful ornate high ceilings.

Nico and I follow the hostess to a booth. The velvet seats embrace us as we slide across from each other. Menus are presented with a flourish, and the server promises to return shortly with coffee.

I lean back, surveying the array of choices. But it’s not the menu that hooked me—it’s the man sitting opposite me.

“This place looks amazing,” I say, my voice a murmur of contentment.

“I wish I could take credit, but my sister was the one who told me about it,” Nico admits.

Sister. I had no idea that Nico had a sister. She was not in the waiting room the night we almost lost him. I want to ask about her absence, but I worry it would come off as insensitive.

“Then she has excellent taste,” I state with a chuckle, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

Small talk commences after we place our orders, and I’m relieved I don’t have to ask questions to learn more about Nico’s family because he eagerly shares. He tells me about his sister, Maria, and how she moved to Florida last year when her husband got a new job. He relates stories about growing up with her and how she helped shape him into the man he is today. The more he talks, the more I’m drawn to his openness.

Our brunch arrives, a feast for our senses. I slice through the golden crust of French toast soaked in maple syrup. The sweetness bursts on my tongue as I chew, savoring the rich flavors. Across from me, Nico’s knife glides through a stack of pancakes, the steam rising in lazy swirls.

The conversation shifts, flowing effortlessly between us as we share bites of our meals. When we first left on our date, Marco consumed my thoughts, but much to my surprise, the more time I spent with Nico, the more distant Marco was. I find myself opening up to Nico, telling him about my own childhood and the challenges I faced growing up in the Mafia world.

Nico shares stories of his upbringing, his struggles of growing up poor and how Marco was the one who helped him find a place in the King organization. It’s obvious he has an unwavering loyalty to those he cares about. His words are laced with sincerity, baring a part of himself that adds depth to the man sitting across from me.

A commotion erupts from the entrance of the bustling restaurant. The clamor of raised voices mixed with hurried footsteps breaks our intimate bubble, drawing our attention to the unfolding scene.

A group of well-dressed men flood into the establishment, their presence commanding attention. My heart stutters as recognition dawns on me—they work for one of Vincent’s capos. What are they doing here? A tingling sense of foreboding settles in my stomach, the air charged with an underlying tension.

Nico’s jaw tightens, a mirror of my own unease, as he observes the newcomers with a guarded expression. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

The men scan the room until they land on us, their eyes narrowing until one of them starts walking toward our table. The click of his polished shoes against the tiled floor reverberates in the hushed atmosphere, each step a deliberate advance toward us. Nico shifts subtly, his muscles tense with a coiled energy. My mind races with questions, the air heavy with an unspoken tension threatening to unravel the fragile peace we had found during brunch.

“I’m sorry about this,” Nico whispers in my direction.

As the man reaches our table, his eyes flit between Nico and me, his voice low.

“Nico,” he says before greeting me with a sharp nod, his tone neutral yet tinged with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite decipher. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Suddenly, I detect a venom in his voice.

“Dante, what the fuck are you doing here?” Nico asks as he springs from his seat, gripping the man by his muscular arm and pulling him toward the back of the restaurant. I glance at the other men waiting for Dante near the entrance then back to the heated discussion between the two men who just left my presence.

I’ve seen but never met Dante, though I do know him by his reputation. He’s known to be a hothead and doesn’t mind getting into brawls with anyone who crosses him.

I watch as the confrontation unfolds in the restaurant’s corner. Nico and Dante’s hushed exchange escalates into a heated discussion. The tension in the air crackles, setting my nerves on edge.

They are too far for me to catch their exact words, but I can sense the gravity of their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has stirred something primal within them.

My fingers grip the napkin in my lap, my eyes darting between the two men as their voices rise. The other patrons steal furtive glances in my direction, a collective unease settling over the once-cozy establishment.

As the tension between Nico and Dante peaks, a surge of anxiety knots in my stomach. Their heated debate has escalated into something far more dangerous than I anticipated. Nico’s jaw muscles flex, a silent battle raging within him. At the same time, Dante’s demeanor remains as icy as ever.

Suddenly, Dante grabs the back of Nico’s head and draws him close, whispering something into his ear. The two men seem almost as if they are suspended in time as I watch them, and something about how they interact with each other is almost erotic. Suddenly, Nico shoves Dante back, causing a chair to topple over with a loud clang reverberating through the restaurant. The other men accompanying Dante move instinctively, positioning themselves strategically around the scene. Nico glares at the two men.

“Go!” Nico shouts. “Now!”

Dante looks over at me before he complies, his head hanging low before he skulks out the way he came, his friends following close. My eyes are fixed on Nico as he approaches the table. He pauses at the hostess stand, slipping a roll of money to the woman and whispering what I assume is an apology before joining me.

As he rejoins me at the table, I speak before he has a chance to do the same to me, “What the fuck was that?”

Nico shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. When he asked me what I was doing today, and I told him about the date I planned, I never imagined he’d show up here. I should have known better,” Nico says, his voice laced with regret. “Dante has a way of... complicating things.”

I glance around the restaurant, noting the lingering stares and hushed whispers that follow Dante’s departure. The patrons seem wary, as if the sudden tension had seeped into the very walls of the establishment.

“What did he want?” I ask, my gaze searching Nico’s face for answers.

Nico’s expression tightens as he considers his response, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features before he meets my gaze. His voice is measured as he replies, “Dante doesn’t like complications, especially when it concerns those he cares about.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words, the weight of Dante’s ominous visit settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. “Complications? Do you mean Marco? He doesn’t want you dating me because I’m dating Marco?”

Nico laughs, his eyes widening as he takes a swig from the water glass before him. “No, Dante being upset has nothing to do with Marco.”

“That’s funny?”

Nico leans in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he confesses, his eyes searching mine for any trace of understanding. “Please try to understand Dante is protective of the family, but sometimes his methods... well, he doesn’t always think things out.”

My mind whirls with a mix of confusion and unease at the revelation. Dante’s interference raises more questions.

Nico’s cryptic words linger in the air, leaving an unsettling echo in my mind. The puzzle pieces refuse to connect, my thoughts swirling with apprehension and curiosity. As Nico leans back in his chair, a contemplative expression crossing his features, I notice a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

I take a deep breath, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me. “Nico, what aren’t you telling me? What’s the real reason Dante came here today?” My words hang like a challenge, a silent plea for clarity amid chaos.

Nico meets my gaze head-on, unwavering yet tinged with a hint of discomfort.

“Please, if nothing else, I’m your friend,” I plead. “What’s going on?”

He exhales slowly. In a low voice, he leans close and says, “After I was in the hospital, Dante had trouble sorting through some feelings.”

“Feelings?”

Nico’s jaw clenches, a flicker of tension passing through his features as he continues, “Before the night on your father’s boat, Dante and I were in a physical relationship.” The words hang heavy in the air like a shroud of secrecy, enveloping us in a veil of unexpected emotion.

My mind reels at the revelation, a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief sweeping through me. If I understood what Nico was telling me, this was not something I had ever witnessed between two men in the Mafia world.

I search Nico’s eyes for any sign of deception, but all I find is sincerity and a hint of sympathy. His admission sends ripples through the carefully constructed boundaries I’ve kept around my heart, threatening to unravel the fragile threads that bind me to this dangerous world.

“Dante...” My voice falters, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressing down on me. “I had no idea.”

“It’s complicated,” Nico murmurs. “Dante and I go way back, and our relationship has always been... intricate.”

“Does Marco know?” The question slips past my lips, a sharp pang of uncertainty threading through my voice.

Nico’s eyes darken. “I think he might, but he’s never said one way or the other.”

“Dante...” I begin, the name feeling foreign on my tongue as I navigate this unfamiliar territory. “So he was here today because...”

Nico’s expression softens, a glimmer of vulnerability surfacing beneath his composed exterior. “Because he is still having a hard time accepting I can care for more than one person at a time,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret.

“What do you mean?” I press.

“Look, this isn’t usually something I like to cover on my first date with someone,” Nico begins. “But I’m polyamorous.”

I knew the meaning of the term and, in fact, had been involved with a man once that identified the same. “So, what, he came here looking to stop your date with me?” I inquire.

“When I told him about our date, he disclosed he still had feelings for me. I tried to explain I had feelings for him too, but that didn’t stop me from having feelings for other people in my life.”

I reach for Nico’s hand, a silent gesture of understanding and solidarity in the face of turmoil. “It must be hard,” I murmur, my voice laced with empathy.

“I told Dante if he can’t accept that part of who I am, it might be better if we don’t see each other in a romantic sense any longer,” Nico explains as his gaze softens, a mixture of gratitude and sadness reflecting in his eyes. “Honestly, after seeing Marco at your apartment this morning, I thought perhaps if someone understood, it would be you.”

As his words wash over me, a swell of conflicting emotions rises within my chest. “What do you mean?”

“All Marco said was that the two of you aren’t labeling anything, and right now, you’re open to pursuing other opportunities.”

I chuff at Marco’s explanation.

Nico frowns. “I told him up front how things worked with me, but I guess after I almost died, things became confusing for him. I’m his first relationship with a man, so I think a lot of feelings are tied up for him.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I reply. “Ya know, I really appreciate you trusting me enough to share this with me.”

Nico’s eyes meet mine with relief and gratitude, his gaze reflecting a depth of vulnerability that resonates within me. “Unfortunately, our world isn’t very accepting of men like me. I think Marco might have suspicions, but I doubt he would ever confirm them with me.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“Sometimes it’s easier not to know, I guess.”

Nico’s vulnerability tugs at my heart, a silent plea for acceptance and understanding. “That’s fucking stupid. Are you going to be okay?”

Biting momentarily at his bottom lip, he finally admits, “I’ll be fine, I’m worried about Dante. All of this is so new to him, and I’m not sure how to help.”

“I think it’s nice that you think about what it’s doing to him. That’s a lot more considerate than most men I’ve dated are to me.”

Nico smiles as he continues. “Sounds like you’ve been dating the wrong men.” He isn’t wrong. “Besides, Dante needs me. It’s not like he has any friends he could open up to about what’s going on with us. I think he’s feeling pretty alone right now.”

I sit upright. “Wait!” I exclaim. “I have an idea. Why don’t you bring Dante over to my place tonight? The three of us can cook dinner together, and then we can watch a movie or something.”

“Oh...” Nico begins, the apprehension heavy in his voice. “That’s really nice of you, but—”

“Stop right there. I insist,” I press with newfound determination. “It’s not just for you. It would be for me too. Ever since my dad... well, let’s just say I don’t get a ton of visitors these days. But it could be a nice gesture, a chance for all of us to spend time together and get to know each other better. Maybe I can help Dante feel more at ease.”

Nico’s gaze softens, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. “You’d do that?”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I gently squeeze Nico’s hand. “Consider it done. We’ll make tonight special for all of us.”

“What about Marco?”

“What about him?”

Nico furrows his brow. “Should we invite him too?”

I smile. “Baby steps.”

“Gotcha.” Nico nods.

“Awesome!” I squeal in excitement. “Then I’ll see you both around eight tonight?”

“It’s a date,” Nico confirms.