24. Nico
CHAPTER 24
NICO
The plate before me is a messy canvas of untouched eggs and bacon, a still life of my unraveling world. My fork hovers, poised to pierce the second yolk, but my hand freezes in the air as my mind latches on to some other crazy idea of how to fix this mess I'm in. Vlad said to sit tight. Yes, this was his exact expression. Sit tight and wait while he's working out the details and talking to people.
Around me, the kitchen bustles. It's a racket of clanging pots and sizzling pans, yet I'm drowning in silence.
Last night's discovery is death itself perched on my chest. It pulses in my mind like a toxic heartbeat.
" Signore Nicola, is everything alright with your breakfast?" Maria, one of our longtime cooks, peers at me with concern.
I force a smile. " Sì, grazie . Just lost in thought."
She nods, unconvinced, and returns to her task of peeling vegetables for Chef Trombetta, who's apparently preparing dinner for the family tonight again. The women chat in both English and Italian, discussing Trombetta's explosive temper. Kitchen staff here at the house don't like him, but Uncle does. So, that's that.
After hearing enough gossip, I push the plate aside. My appetite is as absent as my peace of mind.
The risks of this alliance with Vlad dance through my head like smoke rings, beautiful and ephemeral, yet choking. Each possibility branches into a labyrinth of consequences. If we succeed stealing back the shipment from Salvatore, we gain power, leverage.
But at what cost?
And is Vlad really helping me or is he helping himself?
My inner voice, usually a whisper, now screams.
What if Uncle Tony finds out before I talk to him?
The thought sends ice through my veins. His disappointment would be a knife in my gut. Worse still, his anger–a volcano of retribution that could bury me, Vlad, and everything we've built.
And what exactly did you build, Nicola?
A few heated nights with the enemy and a dead body in the Nevada desert?
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the tile. No, I tell myself. No, I won't think about him that way, as if whatever we have doesn't mean anything. It does. In a strange sick way, but it does.
With a thank you nod to the staff, I exit the kitchen and walk outside onto the back terrace where the Nevada sun greets me with warmth that seems so uncharacteristic right now, so not in line with my mood.
I text Costa as I step into our meticulously manicured backyard. I watch the long shadows stretch across the drought-resistant plants until I hear a familiar voice behind me.
" Padrino ?" he murmurs, his voice hardly discernible above the cascading water of the massive stone fountain. He's well-aware if anyone in the house hears him say that, we're both in trouble. He's careful when he utters the word, but he utters it anyway as if manifesting the future for me. And now I wonder if he was the one who put the idea in my head. The idea that I'm the best choice to lead the family when Uncle retires.
"How did you sleep?" I ask him, stalling.
"Not so good." He looks me right in the eyes. "You were gone all night. Again."
I don't offer an explanation. I already told him what happened when he caught me sneaking into the house at dawn.
"I must caution you about the Russians, Padrino . This alliance you're planning with him—"
Costa falls into step beside me as I round the fountain. His presence is an odd comfort. He's been with me half my life and having him do what I want is hard. Especially now, with Salvatore being more unpredictable than ever. I need Costa by my side, but I also feel like I need to do something for Vlad, so his quest for revenge doesn't end up killing him.
I lean against the fountain's edge, letting my fingers trail through the cool water. "Speak freely, Costa."
Costa's dark eyes scan the perimeter before he continues in a low voice. "Russians are unpredictable, violent. This Vlad... he could turn on you in an instant. He is a Solovey. His reputation precedes him."
"You mean his father's?"
"I don't want anything to happen to you, Padrino ."
"Don't call me that… Not yet, anyway."
"Think about what I said."
"I appreciate your concern, Costa. But the alliance is necessary. We need to resolve this shipment issue before it spirals out of control, before Salvatore finds out. We were lucky no one saw us but if he decides to move the drugs sooner than later, we're screwed."
"And if it does spiral?" Costa presses. "The fallout could be catastrophic."
I meet his gaze, unflinching. "I need you to do something for me." I pause. In the privacy of my mind I wonder if this pause is too dramatic. "Find out everything you can about Shtyk and then track him for me. He was last seen in Sinaloa, Mexico. I want him back in Vegas."
Costa's brow furrows. He thinks for a moment. "Solovey's enforcer Shtyk?"
"That's the one."
"Is it wise for me to leave now?"
"I'm handling it, Costa. I promise. Getting Shtyk back to the States is no less important, and I need your help."
Costa hesitates, his loyalty warring with his instinct to protect. "And if something happens while I'm gone?"
"Then I'll deal with it," I assure him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But the task I gave you is crucial, Costa. I trust no one else with it. Bring him back and keep it under the radar."
He nods slowly, resignation settling over his features. "As you wish. I'll leave on the next flight."
As Costa turns to go, I call after him. "And Costa? Be careful. This Shtyk... he's not to be underestimated."
"Right back at you, Nicola."
The fountain's spray catches the sunlight, creating a momentary rainbow. But as I watch Costa's retreating form, I can't shake the feeling that this colorful display is merely a brief respite before the storm that's surely coming. Real storm.
* * *
The phone in my pocket vibrates as I'm slowly making my way back into the house. My first thought is it's Vlad, but Claudio's name flashes on the screen, and my heart lurches into my throat. When Morelli's consigliere calls, it's usually serious.
"Nicola. Tony wants to see you in his office. Now."
The line goes dead, leaving me with a growing pit of dread in my stomach. I stand, rooted to my spot for a second, breathing, before moving toward Uncle's office. My footsteps echo through the empty hallways, each one bringing me closer to a potential reckoning. Does he know about Vlad?
Did Sal or Vartan rat me out?
I pause outside the door, preparing myself before knocking. The wood feels cool against my knuckles, unlike my feverish skin.
"Enter," Uncle's voice calls, muffled but unmistakable.
I push the door open and step inside, and the air seems to thicken around me. Tony sits behind his massive desk, his posture rigid despite the obvious strain in his features. His skin has a sickly yellow tinge, and dark circles rim his eyes. Uncle isn't doing so well. No wonder Salvatore is baring his teeth way too much as of late. He knows his father has to announce the heir soon, has to choose who will carry the Morelli name into the future.
Behind Tony, Claudio stands, with his hands behind his back.
"Uncle, you wanted to see me," I manage. "How are you feeling? I heard the doctor was here last night." The kitchen staff gossip proved to be useful after all.
Tony waves a dismissive hand. "I'm fine, Nico. Just a touch of indigestion." His eyes, sharp despite his pallor, fix on me. "We have more pressing matters to discuss."
"Take a seat, Nicola." Claudio gestures at the chair across Tony's.
I do as I'm told. With Claudio here, I better be careful.
"The Armenians," Toby begins, but a rough cough interrupts him immediately. His entire body shakes as he tries to fight his way through the mucus. I reach out for the tissue in the holder on the desk, but Claudio is quicker than me. A white handkerchief makes an appearance out of his pocket and he hands it to Uncle, who accepts it without an argument.
I just sit there, wait for him to take care of his cough first. When he recovers, he goes on like nothing happened. "Have you made any progress on stemming the financial bleeding, Nicola?"
I weigh my response carefully. "I'm working on a solution, Uncle. It's... delicate."
"Delicate?" Tony's eyebrow arches. "Our family's future is at stake, Nico. We can't afford delicacy. I already allowed you to tap into our emergency fund to pay off the first half. We can't touch the rest of that money. If you do, people are going to say we're weak."
I'm torn between revealing Salvatore's betrayal and protecting my own secrets. "I understand, Uncle. I promise you, I'm close to resolving this. Just give me a little more time."
Tony leans forward, both fists on the desk, his gaze boring into me. "Time is a luxury we're running out of, nephew. I need results, not promises."
"Two days, Uncle. That's all I ask."
He stares at me with those eyes, the eyes that can still stop hearts. "It would be a shame, Nicola, if you turned into Roberto." His gaze never leaves me, and in this moment, caught between allegiance to my family and self-preservation, I feel completely alone. If I don't put myself in a position of power now, it might be too late altogether.
He needs to know about Salvatore.
Decision made, I shift in my chair slightly, resting both elbows on my knees and clasping my hands tightly. "Uncle, there's something you should know—"
A sharp knock interrupts me, the door swinging open before I can finish or before whoever is there is allowed to enter. Salvatore strides in, his presence electric and suffocating all at once.
"Dad," he greets Tony first, voice dripping with false warmth. "Claudio. How are you? I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Tony's face brightens slightly, but the frown doesn't go away completely. "Sal, come in. Your cousin was just updating me on our Armenian situation."
Salvatore's eyes shift over to me. "Oh? I'm sure Nico has some... fascinating insights to share."
My cousin settles into the chair beside me, his cologne a cloying mix of citrus and something darker. He returns his attention to Tony, his smile sharp as a blade. "Speaking of insights, Dad, I've been meaning to discuss some interesting developments in our connections. It seems Nicola might have some unexpected... entanglements with the Russians."
My blood runs cold. Salvatore's words are innocuous, but the threat beneath them is clear as day. Unless it benefits him, he has no intention of keeping my secret.
"We've discussed this," Tony replies curtly. "Nicola's arrangement with the Russian is a one-off deal."
Salvatore's gaze flicks to me, triumphant. "Oh, I think it's best if we let these things unfold naturally, Dad. Don't you agree?"
"Your father made his decision, Salvatore," Claudio comes to my rescue. "After we close this matter, we will sever the ties."
"Right, Nico?" Tony glares at me.
I force a smile. "Of course. That's what you want, Uncle." I feel like I'm trapped here, cornered by Salvatore's veiled threats and Tony's expectant gaze.
One wrong move, and everything I've worked for could come crashing down.
And I can't afford it, not now. My father died for this family. I do have a right to fight for the seat behind that desk after Tony retires.
"Uncle," I say, rising to my feet, "I may need to look into a few more details to make sure the matter with the Armenians is handled quickly."
Tony frowns but tips his chin. "Very well. Keep me informed."
"Of course. If you'll excuse me..."
At the door, Salvatore's voice catches up with me like a knife thrown into my back. "Oh, Nico. Do be careful out there. You never know who might be... watching."
Asshole.
The door shuts behind me, and I allow myself a moment of weakness and lean against the wall. My breath comes in short gasps. I try to calm down, to force my brain to think. Does my snake of a cousin know Vlad and I visited his warehouse? We were careful to avoid any tails, careful not to leave any traces inside. Anyone could have used sparklers to prank the guards.
I push off the wall, my legs carrying me down the hallway on autopilot.
I need to think.
Need to figure out how to make sure Sal doesn't tell Tony about my secret.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out, my heart skipping a beat when I see Vlad's name on the screen.
Hot Shot.
It's like he read my mind.
" Pronto ," I answer in Italian.
"We need to move." Vlad's urgent tone crackles through the line. "Tonight. We're taking back the shipment."
I glance around, ensuring I'm alone. "Tonight? Isn't it too soon? We barely have a plan—"
"We have a plan. It has to be now," he cuts me off. "Our window is closing. Are you with me or do you want to sit this one out?"
I hesitate for a second. Not because I don't want to but because he made us into a we . He made it a thing. An item that's one.
"Nico?" he says my name. "It's fine if you can't. Just tell me where you want the package delivered and my guys will get it there for you."
"No, I'm coming with. My problem. I should be there to help solve it."
"Good," Vlad says, a hint of relief in his tone. "I'll text you the details. Be ready."
The line goes dead, leaving me alone in the silent hallway. My heart pounds against my ribs, a war drum heralding the night to come. I resume walking, my mind already strategizing even though I don't know Vlad's play yet.
Tonight, we dance with the devil himself. And God help us if we miss a step.