Chapter Three
Nico
The Rossi estate stands before me, a behemoth of manicured lawns and sculpted hedges.
It’s hard to believe sometimes that this is a home and not a museum, but it sure does feel that way whenever I walk in.
I was struck by the place the first time Matteo brought me to his house, if one could even call it that.
My family was not poor by any measure, but even I had to admit the Rossis lived on a different scale.
More than twenty years have passed since I first saw this place, and it still gets to me.
My hands clench on the steering wheel as I try not to think of its occupants.
Or one specific occupant who makes my dick hard when I have no right to feel that way about her.
Fucking hell, what was I thinking, kissing Gabriella Rossi?
I let the thought of Gabriella meeting another man get under my skin so much that I crossed a hard line. A very clear and firm line.
Fuck.
It’s tempting to beat my head against the steering wheel, but the wrought-iron gates of the Rossi Estate glide open, pulling me from my thoughts. I ease the car forward, the gravel crunching softly beneath the tires.
I drive along the winding driveway, each turn revealing a new facet of the property’s grandeur—the pool, the fountains, the beautiful gardens. I roll down the window to let in air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint, sweet perfume of exotic flowers.
As I approach the house, the true scope of its opulence becomes clear. The stone facade gleams in the sunlight, and the towering windows reflect the cloudless sky. I can’t help the strange sense of displacement that sets in despite being considered an official member of the family.
I park the car and sit for a while, staring blankly at the massive structure as my mind turns to the girl inside it.
It’s been two weeks since I last set foot in the Rossis’ home, avoiding everywhere that I’d run into Gabriella.
Hell, I nearly talked myself out of taking her to Vegas for the sole reason of not wanting to watch her pursue a life that doesn’t include me.
I can’t fucking stand thinking about her meeting another man in Vegas—my mind threatens to go somewhere dark every time I do.
The fact that she never answered my question about the painting drives me up the fucking wall.
I could still turn around and drive away, make sure she never makes it to Vegas at all.
The doors open, and I watch as Silvia steps outside, dragging a suitcase behind her, a second before a mass of wavy chocolate brown hair follows her out, carrying a small case.
“Silvia, stop. I can carry my own damn bag!” The older woman doesn’t stop despite the girl trying to wrestle it away from her, and the two start laughing as they come down the steps, fighting over the suitcase. “Silvia!”
“It’s fine, I want to help.”
“But it’s too heavy,” Gabriella protests, clear affection on her face as she watches Silvia struggle to drag the suitcase down. “At least let me help.”
“I got it, cara,” Silvia says stubbornly, and I decide that’s my cue to get out.
With a sigh, I step out of the car and the smile on Gabriella’s face drops the second she spots me.
She stands frozen by the entrance of her magnificent home, her face carefully blank—and I imagine mine is the same.
I try not to drink her in—her outfit, how impossibly gorgeous she looks—but it’s a losing battle.
My eyes drop to her mouth, that full cupid bow that felt so right pressed against mine.
I remember her taste, the little breathy sounds she made, and her response to that forbidden kiss.
“Nico!” It’s Silvia’s voice that breaks the spell, making me turn. “Are you going to stand there or help me with this suitcase?”
“Sorry. Of course, Silvia,” I say, walking up to take the suitcase from her. I lift it in one hand and easily carry it down the steps. “So strong, the way you lifted it,” Silvia calls out behind me as I move to secure the bag in the back, drawing a smile from me.
When I’m done, I come back around to find that Gabriella has already settled in the front seat, earbuds in and eyes closed. I sigh and move to Silvia. “How are you, Silvia?”
“Feeling older by the day,” she says with a grin, leaning up and kissing my cheek before turning toward the car. “She fought with her father this morning. Doesn’t appreciate Leonardo’s sudden interest in her life.”
“Aaah,” I murmur.
“Can’t blame the girl. She’s been alone for too long.”
“She’s always had you.”
“It’s not the same,” Silvia says with a sigh. “A girl needs the love of her father, I can’t replace that.” Then she turns to me. “Take care of my little girl, Nico. She’s been hurt enough in this home.”
There is a steel warning underneath the motherly look Silvia wears like second skin, but I hear it.
It makes me wonder how much she knows—about that kiss, about my feelings for Gabriella.
Feelings I have tried to deny since her eighteenth birthday.
That afternoon in the butterfly atrium changed the way I saw Gabriella, and it turned my stomach that I could look at my best friend’s little sister—someone I had come to view as one of my own—and want her like that.
“She’s safe with me.”
“That’s not what I meant.” No, it’s not, but I’m not ready to touch that hot coal.
Whatever happened between Gabriella and me has been fresh in my mind, driving me crazy.
I need a little more time to think. And the thing is, I don’t even regret the kiss.
It’s been replaying constantly in my mind in the two weeks since I last saw Gabriella.
Jerked myself in the shower thinking about her on my lap, the soft press of her body against mine.
Goddamnit!
I want her.
Now, here. In front of her family home! It gnaws at me, claws at my fucking sanity when I think of another man touching her.
It doesn’t seem to matter that Matteo would have my body floating in the Hudson River if he ever found out I touched Gabriella.
No, that doesn’t seem to matter. I want her. Still.
“No one will hurt her,” I assure Silvia. Not even me. Not if I can help it.
Silvia must read some of the confusion on my face because she smiles. “You were always such a sweet boy. Don’t overthink it.”
I return her smile, afraid to ask for an elaboration on that statement.
Afraid I might not be able to hear the truth, I simply nod and kiss both her cheeks in farewell before turning to the car.
Gabriella doesn’t spare me a single look as I settle in, and I find that I prefer the silence, a silence that stretches the entirety of the ride to the airport and through check-in.
Her earbuds go back in when we board, and she sleeps the entire flight, barely surfacing for the beverage service.
It’s never been this way with us. Not until our parents married.
Something changed that day, disrupting the easy rhythm we’d always had, and I have no fucking idea how to get back to that.
Hell, I might have just made it worse when I kissed her two weeks ago.
Still, I don’t push it as we drive to the Bellagio in our rental.
The air between us is thick with tension, and no one moves to clear it.
The thought that she could be here to meet another man after she kissed me back like that…
Stop, goddamnit.
When we enter the casino, my attention sharpens when I notice several men with leather jackets and vests with a distinctive MC patch—clearly a motorcycle club.
And the first word that comes to mind is trouble.
When I recognize the insignia as belonging to the Steel Sinners, I feel it go up a level. This is the premium kind of trouble.
I know the Steel Sinners, their reputation, and how dangerous these men can be. The Rossis and the Steel Sinners have never done business with or against each other, so there is no bad blood but there could be if one of them takes an interest in Gabriella.
There are a handful of them scattered through the lobby, apparently brought in as security for another event happening this weekend. Still. Fucking hell.
I walk close to Gabriella, making sure everyone sees she’s with me as we head to reception. A hotel attendant takes the case holding Gabriella’s paintings before handing Gabriella the gallery manager’s business card for the exhibition and her room key, after which we are escorted to the elevators.
Gabriella chats with the attendant as we cross the lobby and pass a hallway with yet another cluster of Steel Sinners, when a familiar face crosses my peripheral, giving me a jolt and sending my heart lurching.
I turn to face the group of bikers and search for that face like a man possessed but find nothing.
Did I imagine him?
Fuck, I must be more tired than I thought. It’s been a taxing week, trying to catch up on work so I could take the weekend off. That, coupled with these conflicting feelings for Gabriella, is enough to have me seeing things. So I chalk it up to exhaustion and move on.
“Mr. Benito?”
I turn back and find two sets of confused eyes on me. There are questions on Gabriella’s lips, but she doesn’t voice them, quickly turning away when my brows arch in challenge. I guess we’re still not talking.
The ride up is spent in an awkward silence that even the attendant seems to notice, shifting her feet nervously, casting a discomfited glance between Gabriella and me.
When the elevator doors finally open, she can’t seem to get out fast enough.
I step out into a hallway that seems to stretch forever.
The air is thick with expensive perfume and the faint hum of low music.
We follow the attendant, footsteps echoing softly on the plush carpet as we make our way to our suite.