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My necklace.
Lizzy jumped out first, practically skipping toward the house.
"Thanks for the birthday, Nico!" she called out, waving like she had just met a celebrity.
I nodded once. "Goodnight."
Daria didn't follow her. She lingered by the open door, looking at me with that soft expression she always had around me. The one that fucked with every logical part of my brain.
"Thank you for today," she said. "I mean it. You really made my birthday special. It was really nice seeing you."
Her voice was gentle.
She stepped closer.
Before I could stop her, she wrapped her arms around me.
I froze.
The same way I did years ago in the school hallway, but worse, because now she wasn't a little pink bow girl hugging me out of excitement.
She was a woman.
A beautiful woman pressing against me, warm and soft, her cheek resting lightly against my chest. I could feel her curves against my body.
My hands went to her waist automatically.
Small body. Everything about her felt right on me.
My fingers nearly wrapped around her.
She was still small compared to me. Still delicate. Still everything I shouldn't touch. Yet wanted.
She had no idea what she was doing to me.
"Daria..." I said quietly, but I didn't pull away.
I lowered my head a little. I could smell something sweet on her skin. Vanilla, maybe. She always smelled like that. It made my brain shut off.
Fuck.
She squeezed me once before pulling back, but I didn't loosen my grip fast enough and she bumped lightly into my chest again.
Her eyes lifted to mine. Big. Warm. Trusting.
"Sorry," she said, flustered.
It wasn't her fault, it was mine.
I was the one holding her too long.
I stepped back before I embarrassed myself. My jaw was tight. I knew my expression wasn't friendly. It never was. But around her, it was worse because I was fighting too much.
She blinked up at me, completely unaware she had just turned my brain into shit. I was a dangerous man, yet with Daria... none of that mattered.
"Goodnight, Nico," she whispered.
I swallowed. "Goodnight."
She smiled one last time, small and sweet and devastating, and walked backward toward the house.
I watched her go. The curve of her back in that dress.
I shouldn't have, but I did anyway.
The necklace glinted against her collarbone with every step. The heels on her feet.
She disappeared inside, and I forced myself into the car seat.
I exhaled once, slowly.
She smiled one last time, small and sweet and devastating, and walked backward toward the house.
"Let's go, Angelo," I said.
He saw my frustration. He didn't dare question it.
That hug was more than I was prepared for.
She had no idea what she did to me.
What she kept doing to me.
And she never would. Not if I wanted to keep her safe.
Not if I wanted to keep my damn sanity.
I knew seeing her again would mess me up.
I just didn't expect it to be this bad.
But I wasn't staying away.
She was consuming me.
And I was going to let her.
The city blurred past the windshield as I drove back toward Manhattan. The high of seeing Daria still lingered in my chest, sweet and annoying as hell, but reality came in fast the second my building came into view.
Upper East Side. One of the towers I owned.
The kind of place no one walked into without clearance.
Tommaso, main security, was already waiting outside.
The second he saw me, he straightened.
"Boss, we have an issue."
Of course we did.
"What," I said, stepping out of the car.
"We found one of the Russian fuckers."
My jaw tightened. "Where."
He nodded toward the SUV parked behind him.
"Garage. Enzo's with him."
Perfect.
I followed him down into the restricted basement where the surveillance cameras didn't record anything we didn't want recorded. The industrial doors slid open and the smell of oil, metal, and fear hit me instantly.
Enzo was standing beside a tied-up teenager, leaning against a tool bench, spinning a wrench in his hand like it was a toy.
He grinned when he saw me.
"Brother, how was your day."
"Not the time," I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't want to tell me about the date you waited five years for."
"Enzo. It wasn't a date."
"Bullshit." He smirked. "Yes, it was. That's why I didn't call you earlier. Didn't want to interrupt your little birthday outing with your girl. See, I care. I'm thoughtful like that."
I exhaled slowly. "Can we get back to business."
"Fine." Enzo pushed off the table and gestured at the boy tied to the chair. "We caught this motherfucker trying to follow Angelo. Sloppy. Very sloppy. He was dropping the wrong names. Barely knows english. Meaning he knows something... but not enough."
The boy trembled. Barely eighteen.
If Viktor Stepanov sent him, he was either disposable or stupid.
"Did he say who sent him," I asked.
"Nah. But I didn't need to ask. I have a charm for finding people." Enzo grinned. "Special talent. Although I guess you'd know that, considering I always manage to find information on your girl."
My jaw twitched. "Enzo. Drop it."
He laughed and stepped back.
The boy kept shaking, eyes wide, terrified. He was a kid. Not a threat. Yet.
"He doesn't know much," Enzo continued. "Pretty sure he's the youngest son sent here to spy. He's eighteen. They didn't get much out of Massimo before he died. This one is barely trained. I threatened him and he nearly pissed himself."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Name."
"Ivan Stepanov."
Fucking Stepanov.
Of course.
Viktor had been trying to get information on the Costa family for years. Coward never did the work himself, always sent others to do his dirty shit.
Now he was using his own fucking son.
"Keep him here," I said. "Unharmed unless I say otherwise. Viktor will be thrilled to know his son is alive. And I can use him to get back what belongs to the Costa family."
Enzo nodded. "I know what to do. We'll deal with it tomorrow."
He walked over to Tommaso, whispered something, and the man nodded immediately.
When he returned to my side, he crossed his arms.
"By the way, Isabella wants to speak with you."
I lifted my head slowly. "Why."
"Papa's birthday," he said. "You know how big he wants the event. Half the city will be there. He loves a crowd."
Yeah. He loved people worshipping him. Everyone except the ones who knew the real man under the shadows.
He wasn't a good man. But he was loved. Funny how that worked.
My chest tightened at the mention of Isabella.
Not good tight.
Annoyed tight.
Isabella Costa and I were never on good terms.
Papa's princess.
Three years older.
His favorite child.
Born from another woman while my mother was struggling to conceive me. My mother didn't find out about Isabella until she was already two. It destroyed her.
And Isabella always knew the power it gave her. She used it. Stepped on everyone on her way up. Kissed her way into Papa's inner circle so she wouldn't be married off. Became his right hand. And she loved reminding me she got there first.
She hated that I was king now.
She wanted the title even though she knew she couldn't have it.
"Tell her I'll call," I said.
Enzo nodded.
He looked at me for a second longer, that annoying little smirk returning.
"You know," he said quietly, "Your girl looked happy today."
I glared at him. He didn't budge. This little shit probably followed us.
"Relax, Nico. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."
Enzo waved his hand like I was overreacting.
"You were gone for five minutes and came back looking like someone punched you in the chest."
He pointed at me like he'd solved some medical mystery.
"She does that to you. Miss Pink Girl."
That fucking smirk.
"You're weak for her."
I glared. "Enzo."
He kept going. Of course he did.
"Unless..." he dragged out the word, eyes sparkling with trouble, "you just need to get laid. It's been, what? Two years?"
"Enzo."
"Yeah, definitely two. No wonder you walked in here looking spiritually injured. You need a girl to please you. This demeanour is not good for business."
"Lorenzo."
"I'm just saying—"
"Last warning."
"—it explains the face."
I stared at him.
He grinned like the devil's favorite child. He knew exactly how to get on my last nerve.
"I swear to God," I said slowly, "you're going to die laughing one day."
He shrugged.
"And you'll show up to my funeral holding hands with your little pink wife, big bro."
I didn't answer.
Because I couldn't.
Because he wasn't wrong.
And because if I opened my mouth, I might actually punch him.
Nico is such a yearning man