9. Nico
Nico
In the Trio, a girl’s eighteenth birthday is a major celebration, on par with a boy’s induction and far more publicized, so it’s no surprise my mother has gone overboard for Matilde’s party.
Streamers of silver and pink cover the mansion’s doorways and banisters while loud music plays, and everywhere I step I’m in danger of popping a fucking balloon.
Even the pink and white frosted birthday cake is four feet tall. “Like a goddamn wedding cake.”
“Well, marriage swiftly followed Cat’s eighteenth,” Dante sighs.
“Don’t remind me. As if one day older magically transforms a girl into a woman.”
“It does in the eyes of the men here.” He gestures toward Ritchie Barzetti, a lecherous pig who married eighteen-year-old Gia De Luca shortly before he turned fifty a couple of years ago.
“Woman," I scoff. "That woman who hid from us in a closet after she got detention for fighting at school a couple of weeks ago? That woman who stole one of my knives? That woman who can't follow the simplest directions?” Call me Nico. How many times have I told her now?
“Maybe I should take her to train with me,” my brother suggests. "See what she can do with that switchblade."
“She’ll train with me.” Dante’s eyebrows raise in question at my snappish reply. Unfortunately, business has kept me too busy to train with her yet. “If she ever trains, that is,” I prevaricate. “She doesn’t need your bad influence. She’s enough trouble as it is.”
Annoyance rings in my voice, but the truth is I enjoy Matilde’s spiritedness.
When Mother told me she’d punched a girl in the nose and her suspicions of bullying, I decided to handle the matter.
If they have any sense, my captains had words with their daughters that night.
Or their daughters will soon lack fathers.
As for trouble, Matilde promises plenty of that. True, she’s bonded with the twins and takes good care of them, but she’s disappeared a couple of times lately when she thought no one was paying attention. A little sneak. I need to keep a closer eye on her.
The party crowd swells, and I wish I could go, but duty is duty. Everyone who’s anyone has been invited to my parents’ house tonight, and I’m the acting Capo.
“You’re the Capo,” Dante argues. “You may as well accept it.”
I have accepted it. I was born for it. But the power shift is complicated by Father’s refusal to formally announce it.
He’s currently seated in an armchair by the fire, like a king awaiting his subjects.
His frailty and illness will become more apparent the longer he remains.
We preach loyalty in the Trio, but I wouldn’t put betrayal past many of the men here if they sense weakness in their leadership.
Sure enough, Antonio and Giacomo Barzetti are hovering beside him.
A gaggle of girls swarms toward us to get at the sweets tray. I glare at them until they skitter off empty-handed. “Just think, someday soon, you can host parties like this for Lulu. Maybe sleepovers, too.”
“My daughter’s name is Lucia, and I need you to go over there and be quiet," I warn my brother.
He laughs, sauntering away to get himself a drink as I check my wristwatch. I have to fly to New York this coming weekend for the belated wedding reception of Carlo Vicini and Alessio’s cousin, Francesca. Parties, parties, parties. Some of us have work to do.
Thinking of New York always reminds me of Margareta. Their Consigliere, Russo had held out for someone ‘high enough’ to marry his oldest daughter. He’d wanted Carlo for her, but the peace pact created to bind the three ruling cities together again meant I became that someone.
She was twenty-one when we married. I was twenty-four, an experienced killer, a cold-hearted businessman, and more na?ve than I would’ve thought possible when it came to women. A mistake I’ll never make again.
“Nico, you look dashing,” Cosima Barzetti coos. She’s a beautiful but vain woman, always up to some mischief, and I’m certain dashing is the very last word she thinks of when she looks at me. “I know you must still be mourning Margareta, poor man.”
An unwanted flicker of guilt hits me when her eyes drop to my bare left hand. Not over the absent ring, but for my failure. I’m not sure why I didn’t put my wedding band on this morning even if there wasn’t any reason behind continuing to wear it beyond habit.
Her husband and son join us after I’ve given her a chilly stare and returned her fake courtesies. “I’m eager to meet this nanny of yours,” Antonio says with a leer. “Arturo says she’s a real beauty. Any chance she might become the lady of your house before long?”
“She’s some nobody’s daughter, Dad. She can change diapers and even warm Nico’s bed if he wants without becoming our Capo’s wife.”
If looks could kill, Giacomo would already be dead, and Antonio would be on his way to joining him. It’s Matilde’s birthday party. It’s Matilde’s birthday party. It’s Matilde’s birthday party, I recite inside my head.
“I don’t intend to marry again so soon, certainly not a barely legal girl who’s my employee.”
Striding away from them before I lose my shit, I search the room. Where the hell is the birthday girl? I’ve spoken to whoever needed speaking to. I could congratulate her, fetch the twins from upstairs and go home. Maybe get more than three hours of sleep for a change.
“Hello, Nico.” Primo Gualtieri gives me a nervous smile, so I shake his hand.
The young guard took his punishment like a man, even if he’s laughably out of Dante’s league as a fighter.
I didn’t want to chop off one of his fingers for not refusing Caterina’s plea to drive her the night of the Tribunal.
It’s not like I ever could tell my little sister no.
“Hello, Primo. How are your mother and your sisters?”
“They’re good, thanks.”
His father taught me to fight many years ago.
Knives were his specialty, and they soon became mine.
Primo was his only son but seventh child.
The old man was killed during the civil war almost three years ago.
With his father’s blood still staining my clothes, the boy had stood before me as his mother and sisters wailed begging to take the oath that very night and become a Made Man.
I’d agreed, though I have questioned my decision a time or two.
He’s smart, patient and capable with a gun, but he lacks the brutal disposition necessary for this life.
“Your mother just told me Matilde will be down any moment. She was having some trouble with her dress.” I nod, my thoughts wandering until Primo gasps, “Mio Dio, che bellezza!”
Smirking, I turn to see what beauty has caught his eye… and spot Matilde gliding down the stairs.
My mother is a few steps behind her, but there’s no question who everyone is watching.
Antonio was joking when he asked if she might become the lady of my house. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem like the craziest notion. Even if many would be offended by me choosing an unknown soldier’s daughter over the daughters of one of my underbosses or captains.
Under the crystal chandeliers, her lustrous black hair shines like pure obsidian. For the first time, I wonder what it would feel like wrapped around my fist. Her smooth, bronzed skin glows in the glittering tangerine gown that hugs her voluptuous curves and makes my mouth water. Fuck.
Those big brown eyes nervously scour the room filled with strangers until they find mine. Melted dark honey with chestnut starbursts radiating out from the pupils. Alluring and hypnotic.
I knew she was beautiful. I’ve been keeping that acknowledgement strictly in the box of things that are mere facts – blood is red, ice is cold, Dante is crazy, Matilde is beautiful.
But this? This I’m not prepared for.
“Hell-fucking-no,” I curse under my breath, squashing these stirrings to dust.
I can’t claim her. And she’d never want me.
Nevertheless, I’m not sure if I’m more flabbergasted or furious when Dante joins her at the bottom of the stairs. He murmurs something that makes my children’s nanny blush and giggle. Fury, it is.
“I’m going to ask her to dance tonight. I’m going to ask her. I’m going to ask her.”
Primo is repeating the words under his breath, a litany meant to pluck up his courage.
The thought of this boy asking her to dance makes something inside of me snap. I don’t need repeated words to find my courage. I prowl toward the birthday girl, determined I will be the man who claims her first dance.