Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
NEVIO
I wake up, and Dalila is already up. I panic as my eyes open and I don’t feel her next to me. I promised to keep her safe.
Sitting up, the first place I check is the sofa. In case she crawled back there last night, but it’s empty.
I hear a loud sound from the kitchen downstairs. Ok. She’s still here.
Pushing the blankets off me, I stretch, grab a pair of sweatpants and pull them on before making my way downstairs.
I walk into the kitchen and it’s a sight I could look at all day.
She is on the kitchen counter, her hands resting in front of her, her naked ass pointed right at me, her bright pink pussy on display.
A sly grin touches my lips and I imagine myself grabbing her hips and fucking her exactly where she is. My cock throbs.
“What are you doing?”
I say, not too loud because I don’t want to give her a fright. She already looks like she might fall. I guess I should shift things in the kitchen around so that she can reach the daily things more easily.
She glances behind herself and I notice how pink her cheeks are.
“That’s a beautiful view, but can I help you down before you hurt yourself?”
I walk towards her, ready to lift her in my arms, but as soon as I reach out to help her she brushes my hands away with a sour expression.
She’s still angry.
Last night didn’t change that.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own.” Her eyes dance up and down my body, taking me in. She looks like she wants more of what I did to her in the dark hours of this morning. But she also looks like she wants to skin me alive.
“Ok, ok.” I wonder if I hurt her last night? Maybe I was too rough. I know it was her first time. I wanted to be more gentle, but I couldn’t. She was just so - prefect.
“Are you alright? Did you sleep ok? Does anything - uh - hurt - from last night.”
She gives me the brattiest little glare I’ve ever seen in my life and says, “Tell me when you’re done in the kitchen and I’ll come make my coffee then.” Then she pushes around me and leaves.
I stare after her in shock.
She really is going to be a challenge for me.
I don’t even know how to respond to that.
Should I be hurt? Should I be angry?
The only thing I know for sure is that I want to repair whatever has damaged the connection we seemed to have when she first arrived here.
I sigh as I pull another coffee cup from the cupboard and start making both of us a cappuccino.
She’s still angry that her brother didn’t take the time to talk to her at the wedding. And I think she thinks I’m hiding something from her.
She’s put up some pretty intense walls around herself now and I need to figure out how to break them down.
Carrying the coffee through the house, I finally find her outside on the patio. It’s cold out, but she’s wrapped in a thick blanket and has her legs pulled up against her chest. I put the coffee down on the table next to her and then pull the outdoor overhead heater nearer and flick it on. The red glow bakes down towards her.
She doesn’t even turn to look at me.
“Dalila?” I say.
“Please leave me alone. If you won’t tell me what’s going on, just leave me alone.”
“I don’t know what’s going on. I only know what your brother told me.”
“Whatever. I’m tired of being a pawn in this game and not understanding any of it.” She sighs, still keeping her eyes away from me.
My heart aches to pull her close and hold her in my arms.
I step closer, and she turns to glare at me. Fire in her bright green eyes, warning me not to test her. I know I could overpower her easily. I could pull her onto my lap and hold her and she wouldn’t stand a chance against me — but I don’t want to make her angrier — or push her further from me. I have to move with caution.
The only thing I can think of doing is contacting her brother to push him for information.
I turn away from her and leave her in peace on the patio, watching across the garden as small, soft snowflakes dance in the air. The morning light that was here only a few moments ago has faded behind a grey sky.
Her brother is going to have to tell me something. I won’t let him create tension between my wife and me.
I walk into my bedroom, feeling the chill of the air against my skin. I grab one of my turtleneck sweaters and pull it on, shivering.
I can’t believe how quickly the cold creeps in.
I pick up my phone and dial Masaccio.
“Mas, it’s Nevio.”
“Nevio. Is my sister ok?” he sounds worried.
“She’s fine, but pissed off and wants answers.” Hell has no fury like an Italian girl scorned.
“I don’t know what to tell you —”
“Not good enough. I want answers, too.”
I hear a heavy sigh drifting through the line.
“Meet me. In an hour. I’ll explain everything I know but not over the phone. It’s too risky. The Archers Bar on Bree Street in town. One hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
T own is busy despite the cold weather and thin layer of ice on the pavements. It’s the holiday season and people want to shop. There are smells of cinnamon latte and chai tea drifting in the air. And a Santa on every other corner.
I push the door of the bar open and a wall of hot air slams against my body, along with the assault of holiday music. I don’t know why they insist on playing this music in all public spaces. I get it. It’s Christmas, but can we listen to something else?
I close the door behind me and feel claustrophobic. I Don’t want to take off my black trench coat, but it’s so fucking hot in here. Why do they always pump the heating so high? It’s unnecessary. People are walking around the bar in tee-shirts, playing pool, drinking cold beers. The temperature contrast between indoors and outdoors is astounding.
I shrug the trench coat off and drape it over the back of my chair, sitting facing the door, still overheating in the turtleneck jersey, but not a fuck am I going to take that off and have everyone staring at me in a matter of minutes.
Self-consciously, I run my hand across my cheek, down my neck, then pull the turtleneck higher to cover my devil’s mark.
The barman walks over to where I’m sitting.
“What are you having?”
I look around the place. It’s not even lunch yet.
Whatever.
“Whisky, on the rocks.”
He nods and walks away.
The door chimes, a soft jingle of a bell as it opens, and I lift my eyes to see who’s coming inside.
It’s her brother.
I watch his face as he walks into the wall of heat. His nose scrunches up in annoyance and as he walks towards me, he’s already shrugging his coat off his shoulders.
“Nevio.” He says, hanging it over the back of the chair next to me and then pulling it out so he can sit down.
“Masaccio.” I reply.
“Quite festive out there, isn’t it?” He chuckles, dry and unenthusiastic.
I stay quiet.
The barman puts my whisky down in front of me and looks towards Mas without a word.
“Same.”
Once he’s settled and has his drink, I get straight to the point.
“You need to tell me what is going on, otherwise I can’t protect her.”
“I know, man.” He sighs. “The problem is that I don’t know the entire story. I only know what my dad bothered to tell me and that was enough to let me know I had to make a different plan to the one he had.” He’s gone against his father, which is a red flag.
“Tell me what you know.” I push. Getting annoyed and beginning to understand why Dalila is so angry at everyone.
“That night of the poker game. Well, earlier that day—” The barman arrives with his drink and he pauses, takes a sip, and waits for the guy to leave again. “Earlier that day, my father called me into a meeting alone. He told me that someone had information about him and the family. He had to make some kind of deal.”
He pulls his mouth tight and shakes his head. “That deal was exchanging my sister for the safety of the family.”
“Exchanging her by giving her to who?”
“One of our rivals. Lenny Malone.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Even I can’t believe that.
That man is a psychopath. He is doesn’t have a single bone of empathy or softness in his body. He would kill a man for blinking at him wrong and now Mas is telling me that her father was going to hand his own daughter over to that monster. And he isn’t even an alley. He’s a rival.
Now, you must understand something.
I am called a shadow, a monster, a villain - and I’ve earned it - but Lenny Malone - he would have skinned Dalila for fun. I don’t understand what her father was thinking.
“It doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head.
“I know. But that’s why I did what I did on poker night. If she was married off to someone else before Malone got his hands on her - well - fuck man. I had no choice.”
“I agree. You had no choice. Is this why our fathers were not there on poker night?”
“Yes, all of them were out — concluding this deal.” He nods, then picks up his whisky and drains the glass.
“And what happens now? Where is Malone?”
“I don’t know where he is, or my father at the moment, but I know one thing. Malone is pissed off and looking for revenge for the dishonored deal. That’s why you need to keep her locked up, out of the public eye. It’s just too risky.”
“And that’s all you know? There isn’t anything else you are keeping from me?”
“Nothing else, man. Please tell Lila I’m trying to find dad. I’m trying to fix this.”