20. Nico
20
NICO
FRIDAY DINNER OR HOW TO GET AN INKLING OF A brEEDING KINK
A s we walk the country lane that links my house to Andrea and Giulia’s, I keep my hand on Marie’s lower back, guiding her gently along the way, the other holding freshly cut bluebells for Giulia’s table. After our hug, I’ve been craving more touch and letting myself try, small steps after small steps. My fingers are warm from her body heat but mostly, it’s my heart I feel beating a drum in my chest. I’m touching her, and she’s letting me. The anchor of that touch feels like a privilege and something more than I have a right to, especially since my fingers itch to create pain. After her arrival, nightmares still plague my nights, but less regularly than they have been since the night of my dad’s passing.
Ever since I opened the door to our enemy that fateful night ten years ago, I’ve relived my father’s death, flames licking my skin just like I remember the heat of the fire that destroyed our home and put my mother in a wheelchair. The last thing the man I thought was a friend did before he left was giving me a friendly clap on my cheek, his bare fingers on my face.
I thought I’d never be able to sleep without nightmares, or touch anyone without my brain conjuring fire in my blood until I burnt alive in my mind.
Then, Marie touched me. And now I’m touching her. It’s through clothes but I’m comfortable like this. I enjoy it, even. Her warmth is soothing and I almost wish my fingers would trace the bare skin of her back.
One day , I think as we approach my brother’s humble abode.
Where my home is all straight lines and raw wood, his is refined to look like a cottage, but one you would find in a magazine of most luxurious houses in the country. The lawn is made of grass and rose bushes that I know none of them take care of, preferring to hire an external hand rather than tend to their own garden. Giulia is as good at gardening as she is with cooking. And since she can burn pasta—and did, twice—that says a lot. The inside is all understated luxury, too. It fits them perfectly.
“I prefer your house,” Marie whispers to me as Giulia ushers us in, kissing Ember, wrapped on Marie’s front like the cutest bundle.
Giulia doesn’t kiss me, simply winking, before moving through the house. I love that I don’t have to pretend that I like contact with her. Intimately, from the very first time we met, she understood what I couldn’t vocalise and has never made me feel bad about it. That’s her strength. My sister-in-law knows everything about the people she interacts with, from the first look, which makes her incredibly good at being my brother’s spy.
“There they are. I’ve heard so much about you two,” my mother exclaims then wheels herself closer. I dip down to kiss her cheek briefly.
Marie’s eyes dip quickly to my mother’s wheelchair and I’m glad to see that her expression doesn’t change. She bends at the waist to kiss my mother’s cheeks, then turns a wide-eyed Ember.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Capaldi,” she says softly, so far removed from the woman who commands me at will.
“Call me Catalina, carina . Mrs Capaldi was my late husband’s mother,” my mum jokes with a fake shiver. “That woman was not pleasant to be around.” She then turns back her attention to Ember. “And this must be Ember, your sister’s daughter?”
“She’s my daughter,” Marie interjects defensively, silence following the small outburst.
“Of course, carina . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Andrea clears his throat, but as always, it’s Giulia who jumps in and saves us from the awkward silence. “Let’s eat. Andrea’s stew is gonna get cold and no one wants to eat coagulated meat stock,” she says with a shiver and a shake of her head.
“Aren’t you vegan?” Marie asks her cousin with a frown.
“Andrea made a portion without meat for me,” Giulia answers with a soft look to my brother, who preens under her attention. He’d do anything for her. He did, while I was in the hospital down for the count and unable to save her when I should have.
The shame of those events still haunts me. Knowing she suffered because I couldn’t protect her reminds me that I haven’t nearly paid the price of my mistakes. As it always does, slowly throughout dinner, ants start to crawl up my limbs. Focusing on the conversations around me gets more difficult but I try. For her.
“Can I hold Ember?” my mother asks Marie when it’s time for her nightly bottle. There’s apprehension in Marie’s green eyes but she swiftly looks my way and I give her an imperceptible nod. She places a fussy Ember in my mum’s arms and the picture does something to the organ in my chest. I don’t understand why it squeezes almost painfully but I take a mental picture, burning it inside my brain. My mother looks so happy with a tiny baby in her arms, like she’s found a new purpose. She’s the most resilient woman I know, but both Andrea and I left her house years ago and despite her position at the West Hill Hospital Board, she’s mentioned to me that days can get lonely.
Andrea and Giulia are adamant about not wanting children. I turn to watch Marie, her features soften as she idly talks to my mum about Ember and her first week in my house. Her shoulders are relaxed and the grey under her eyes is almost gone. She looks more at peace than she did when she landed. She isn’t smiling yet, but that’s okay. I can own all her smiles.
We move to the living room, Andrea and Giulia staying behind to clean up the kitchen.
“She’s such an easy babe,” my mother says conversationally. “Both Andrea and Nico were so fussy when they were her age. Do you think you’ll give her brothers or sisters?”
With the way Marie chokes on her diet coke, I understand it’s not something you should ask. Since Marie is a twenty—soon-to-be-twenty-one—year-old mother who met mine an hour ago, with pain, grief and trauma that could fill the entire city of West Hill, I get it.
“Mum,” I admonish, and she apologises before moving on to planning a shopping trip she can take Giulia, Marie and Ember on.
Now that she spoke the idea into existence, I picture Marie, round with child, and a little Ember playing on the patio of my house. The sun is setting as I approach Marie from behind, settling my hands on her belly and my chin on the crook of her neck. She smells like her usual lavender scent, but underneath is the distinct smell of my hypoallergenic detergent and my favourite lemon soap. She smells like mine. My fingers flex on her stomach, carrying my child.
“So?” Marie asks and my eyes fly open.
Fuck, that vision felt so real. What did I miss? I’m never this reckless, my attention always on my surroundings. But the moment my mother talked about other children, my subconscious took over, showing me what I could have.
“So, what?” I ask, schooling my features to nonchalance.
“Do you think you can drive me to West Hill on Thursday? To meet with Giulia and your mother?” Marie asks, then places a gentle hand on mine that’s resting on the arm of the leather chair. “It will do me good to get out of the house.”
For the second time this evening, thoughts leave my mind as all my attention is stolen and drops to where the pad of her fingers touch the back of my hand. I drop my eyes to her hand and swallow hard, unknown emotions clogging my throat as I bask into her touch and attention.
In the corner of my eyes, I don’t miss the exchanged looks between my mother, Andrea and Giulia who are two seconds away from giggling like teenagers.
I look up and her dark green eyes ensnare mine. We could be alone in the room for how the world around us disappears, creating a safe bubble around her and I.
Marie moves to remove her hand, “sorry” leaving her lips and I want to banish that word from her vocabulary. So fast she doesn’t see me coming, I keep her hand on top of mine, pressing my second hand on top of hers and squeezing my fingers once.
Her lips part and her pupils widen, something dark and possessive swirling within the dark depths. It’s breathtaking.
“It’s settled, then,” Giulia breaks the silence and our bubble pops, but she doesn’t remove her hand and I keep mine exactly where it is, conscious not to move an inch. “Nico, before you go, Andrea and I would like to talk to you.” Her voice drops as though there’s a secret to share. They want to talk about the next step in the war against Misha Petrov. My brother is allied with Aleksei Dobrev, the Pakhan of the London Bratva, who’s decided to go rogue and take our side instead of supporting Misha’s endeavour and dark trade. He must have intel on the whereabouts of our enemies.
In the corner of my eyes, Marie deflates and seems to curl up in the corner of the couch, used to being dismissed when her family wants to talk shop.
“That’s my cue to leave,” my mother says before embracing everyone and calling her chauffeur to take her home.
When it’s just the four of us, Ember sleeping in a small basket Giulia made for her in front of the fire, Giulia motions for me and Andrea to follow into Andrea’s study at the end of a dark corridor. Marie’s downcast eyes break my heart, the way she nibbles on her nails and eye the whiskey bottle on the vintage cart making me want to kill her entire family for making her feel this way.
I walk to her and take her hand in mine. Like every time I’ve touched her, energy sparks between us, my body a live-wire of electricity that only she can turn into power. “Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s hear what they know.”
“I’m not wanted there, trust me.”
“Do you want to be there?”
She rolls her lips into her mouth and nods, no hesitation whatsoever. “Then, take your rightful place, Miss Marie,” I say with a lift of my lips.
Her eyes brighten, shining with what I can only interpret as excitement. I caress her wrist with my thumb and her blood thrums under the digit.
We walk the short distance between the living room and the study hand in hand, leaving the door open in case Ember wakes up. Andrea sits like a king on his throne behind his mahogany desk, Giulia standing tall and proud at his back. Keeping my fingers on Marie’s hand, I move to stand behind her. Ready to have her back. Guarding her like a dog.
“Are you sure you want to be here, ciuciarella ?” Giulia asks Marie who flinches before righting her shoulders back.
“I have a right to know what will impact my future and the future of my daughter.” Her voice rings like steel in the lavish space and I suppress a groan. I give her a light squeeze, showing her my support in whatever way I can. People in her family needs to stop telling her what the fuck to do. Can’t they see they’re snuffing her light every time they push her away?
“Lana’s gonna kill me,” Giulia mumbles, raising her eyes to the ceiling like it will give her strength to deal with this family drama.
“Lana isn’t my keeper. We talked about this, Gigi.”
Attagirl.
My cock jerks to attention as Marie establishes her demands. She’s soft in her immovability, her lush curves almost resting against my front, taking strength from me.
Giulia shakes her head lightly but concedes. “You’re right. You’re an adult, you do what you think is best for you, exactly like I will when this blows up in your face, Marie. I won’t take sides between you two.” Marie nods and I can’t see her face but her energy shifts to one of glee and empowerment. I can almost see her tap her feet in a little dance even though she isn’t moving at all.
“ Fratellino , Dobrev called last night,” Andrea starts. “He and Ventura are on the trails of one of Misha’s handlers in the country. They think they can find him and bring him to your workshop soon.”
“How soon?” I ask as I take in the information that Aleksei Dobrev has been working closely with Dante Ventura, his enemy for decades. I don’t necessarily care for their feud. They both hire me for side projects, and as long as no one in London or West Hill asks me to kill a rival, I take these easy contracts gladly. They scratch the itch and help me stay in touch with the underbelly of the country, collecting favours and information as effectively as Giulia does with her club.
“This week,” Giulia answers for him. They always end each other’s sentences. You wouldn’t believe they started off as a marriage of convenience when you look at them eating each other up with their eyes. These two are the horniest people I’ve ever met and I know I need to end this meeting soon because with or without us present, they’re about to go at it until the sun comes up.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
“What does it mean?” Marie asks, turning to look at me over her shoulders. The light catches in her dark locks, giving her hair a midnight-blue hue. She knows what I do. Everyone knows. But I look into her eyes as I lay down the ugly truth of who I am.
“Dobrev and Ventura will catch the man who finds the women Misha’s organisation abducts and sells into his traffic ring. They will bring him to my workshop, a barn a few hundred meters off my property. I will torture the information we need out of him, over hours or days depending on my mood and needs, and then I’ll end his life.”
Our eyes stay locked but there’s no grimace on her precious face. “Good,” she states before turning back her attention to her cousin and my brother, who both raise their brow at her. “What? Did you think that because I’m younger than you and have been kept in the dark all my life, I’d be disgusted by violence? That man deserves what’s coming for him.”
A large smile spreads across Giulia’s red lips. “Maybe we were wrong to keep you apart all this time, Marie.” She plops herself on Andrea’s lap, dismissing us.
My blood pumps fast in my veins, echoing in my ears as Marie’s words sink in. Her acceptance tastes like salvation on my tongue and the need to touch her, to show her how grateful I am for what she just gave me, threatens to unravel me.