15. Jazz
15
JAZZ
I sip my morning coffee on the terrace, watching the sunrise paint streaks of gold across the city skyline. My plants rustle in the breeze — a small piece of peace I've clung to as Nerio gets more and more protective.
I'm not sure when I stopped minding it.
The security panel by the door chirps. Three short beeps — his code. He didn't come by last night, and though he spends most nights here now, I didn't think much of it. I don't press too much of where he is or what he's doing…
Not that I don't wonder. But I'm trying to keep my crumbling walls up.
"Already awake?" Nerio's footsteps echo across the marble floor. "Good morning, little dove."
I don't turn around. "You're checking up on me at 6 AM?"
"Business never sleeps." He moves beside me, his presence commanding even in the soft morning light. His suit is impeccable as always, not a wrinkle in sight.
"Right. Business." I gesture to my coffee. "Want some?"
"Already had three." He leans against the railing, gray eyes scanning the horizon before settling on me. "The club's numbers looked good last night."
"They always do when I'm running things." I meet his gaze, chin lifted. After weeks of living under his watchful eye, I've learned to push back against his intensity. Sometimes.
And sometimes I'm his good girl. But I try not to think about that right now even if I ache for him. This man has always pulled that out of me.
His lips curve into that dangerous smile. "That's why I picked you."
"You mean that's why you keep me close."
"Both." He reaches out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. His touch lingers, sending unwanted shivers down my spine. "I have a dinner meeting tonight. But I'll be by after."
"You know...." I step back, needing space from his magnetic pull. "Maybe I could come with you."
"No." His tone shifts, harder now. "You don't belong on the other side of the business."
"The side that requires bulletproof windows and triple-encrypted everything?"
"Exactly." He straightens his jacket. "You'll stay as far as I can get you from it with you running The Vault." He checks his watch. "I have to go, but I wanted to see you before I got too busy."
"Tonight then," I say, trying to shove away the whirlwind of emotions swirling in me. Maybe I could come with you? What was I thinking?
I watch him stride toward the door, every movement controlled and precise. This is my life now – luxury prison with a view, dancing between normalcy and the darkness that follows Nerio like a shadow. Part of me wants to run. The other part...
"Jazz." He pauses at the door. "I just want you safe."
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with my cooling coffee and the weight of words I don't want to read too much into.
Hours after Nerio comes home, I lay tangled in silk sheets, my head resting on Nerio's chest. His heartbeat drums steady beneath my ear, a contrast to the ruthless man I've helped patched up, that I've seen bark orders at his men.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks as his hand works up and down my back.
I can't tell him the truth. Not how I worry that I'm getting too attached to a man that I never should. That I've let him lock me away in the name of my safety, control taking me to work at a place he owns, let him fuck me each night and sleep beside me.
I can't tell him that despite all that, for the first time, I feel safe and protected and cherished. He would kill anyone for me. I've seen him break bones when men try to touch me. He's deadly. He's dangerous.
And he'd do anything for me.
Why is that sending my wall crashing to the ground and leaving my poor heart unguarded.
"Tell me something about you," I say instead. "Something that you think about a lot, that other people wouldn't expect."
He's silent for a minute, and then he says so softly I almost missed it. "I killed my first man at the age of ten." It's not what I expect in the slightest. "I was taught to hold and shoot a gun on my sixth birthday, but… It's different to hit a real person."
"Your first kill at ten?" My fingers trace the scar above his eyebrow. "That's young, even for a Bueti."
"Had to be done." His hand slides up my bare back. "Caught someone trying to hurt my cousin. Grabbed my father's gun, didn't think twice."
"Did it change you?"
"Made me understand power." His chest rises with a deep breath. "After that, they shipped me off to live with Lorenzo — my older cousin. The don. His family is a real piece of work. Taught me everything about survival."
I prop myself up on an elbow, studying his face in the dim light. "Everything?"
"How to break fingers without leaving marks. How to make someone talk without touching them." His gray eyes lock onto mine. "How to read people's weaknesses. Use them."
"Like you read mine?"
His fingers thread through my curls. "You don't have weaknesses, Jazz. You have armor. Different thing entirely."
"Smooth talker." But my heart skips at the observation.
"But family is family, and we were all raised together. It breeds a different kind of loyalty. No rules except survival." He shifts, pulling me closer. "By fifteen, I could run half the neighborhood's protection rackets. By twenty, I had my own crew."
"Sounds lonely."
"It was necessary." His voice carries no remorse, just fact. "In this life, you either control or get controlled. No middle ground."
I trace the muscle of his shoulder, feeling the tension there. "And now?"
"Now?" His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Now I have an empire. Territory. Respect." His eyes darken. "And a beautiful woman who thinks she can save my soul."
"I don't want to save you." The words come out barely above a whisper.
"No?"
"I just want to understand you."
His laugh rumbles through his chest. "Dangerous game, little dove."
I trace idle patterns on his chest, my mind wandering to dangerous places. The steady rise and fall of his breathing grounds me, even as anxiety claws at my throat.
"What's going on in that head?" Nerio's fingers trail down my spine.
"Just thinking about how I ended up here." I prop myself up, meeting his gaze. "With you."
"Having second thoughts?" His tone carries an edge.
"The opposite." I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. "That's what scares me. You're dangerous, Nerio, and I..." I shake my head, thinking about Leo. I barely escaped him and all he did was beat me. What could happen wrapped up in the crime families was so much worse. "You could do anything to me and no one would stop me."
His jaw tightens, and I can tell he's trying to piece together where it's coming from. But I'm not ready to talk about it. "I'd never-"
"I know. That's the thing — I trust you. After everything I've seen, everything I know about what you do..." I shake my head. "What does that say about me?"
Nerio is obviously deadly and I've never felt safer. I can't make sense of the conflicting feelings I have at that.
He rises, cupping my face in his hands. "It says you're smart enough to know who is really the one in power. And when it comes to us, I'd do anything to protect what's mine. You hold everything here, Jazz."
"Everything?"
"You know the answer." His thumb brushes my cheek. Everything within reason. He’s not letting me get hurt, but if I really didn’t want something, he’d do whatever it takes to remedy that. "But you're not trapped here, Jazz. You never were."
I lean into his touch. "Maybe that's what terrifies me most. I could walk away, but I don't want to." My voice catches. I'm falling in love with a man who orders hits over breakfast coffee. How messed up is that?
"I wouldn't let you anyway." He presses his forehead to mine with a smirk. "If that's any consolation."
I smile back at him, but it wobbles. I don't want to leave, but I don't want to end up in a trap like before. I wanted to strike out on my own and now I'm tied up with a very deadly man.
I don't know how to handle what I feel.
I've seen him negotiate deals that ended in blood, watched him command respect with just a look. Yet here, in these quiet moments, I feel safer than I ever did with Leo and his performative kindness that hid real cruelty.
His fingers slide beneath my chin, tilting my face up. "You're thinking too hard again."
"Can't help it." I try to look away, but he holds me there.
"I see those walls going up." Nerio's thumb traces my jawline. "Talk to me."
"It's just-" The words catch. "Sometimes the reality of who you are, what you do..."
He pulls me against his chest, one hand tangling in my curls while the other wraps around my waist. His lips brush my temple. "I didn't mean to shake you with all that. I don't have to tell you about what I do."
"But it's a part of you." And it didn't shake me, not really. Just the realization of how I ran from a monster that everyone thought was good to a man who everyone calls a monster…
And I don’t believe it.
"Look at me." When I do, his gray eyes hold mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "What I am, what I do — it protects us. Keeps you safe. Everything else..."
He closes the distance between us, his mouth capturing mine in a kiss that makes my toes curl. His tongue traces my bottom lip before deepening the kiss, stealing every coherent thought from my mind.
I melt into him, my hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tastes like expensive whiskey and danger, and I'm addicted to both.
He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. "I'm sorry for unsettling you. Let me make it up to you."
His hands drag the blankets away from my already naked body as he pushes me back on the bed. I gasp as he settles between my legs, looking perfect like he belongs there. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then another, trailing upward. My breath hitches, anticipation coiling in my belly.
"Nerio..." His name escapes my lips like a secret.
"Shh," he whispers against my skin. "Just feel."
His tongue flicks out, tasting me, and I jolt. He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he explores me with his mouth. He's not gentle, not tentative. He takes what he wants, his tongue delving deep, drawing out a moan from somewhere inside me.
"God, Nerio..." My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.
He growls, the sound primal and hungry. His fingers dig into my flesh, holding me still as he devours me. His tongue circles my clit, teasing, then flicks against it, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me. I'm panting now, writhing against him, chasing that elusive high.
"Come for me, Jazz," he commands, voice muffled against my flesh. His fingers slip inside me, crooking, hitting that spot that makes me see stars.
"I... I can't..." But my body betrays me, hips moving in sync with his mouth, his fingers.
"You can." His tongue flicks against my clit again, relentless. "And you will."
His words, his touch, his fucking mouth - it's too much. The pressure builds, a wave cresting, and then it crashes. I come undone, pleasure pulsing through me, my cries echoing in the cavernous penthouse. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, drawing out every last shudder until I'm limp and spent.
Only then does he pull back, lips glistening with my release. His eyes meet mine, intense and hungry. "Better?" he asks, voice rough.
I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "Yes," I whisper.
A satisfied smirk curves his lips. "Good." He presses a final kiss to my thigh, and all I can think is fuck my moral qualms.
I really do want him.