Chapter 13
Aubergine.
Nicola opened the passenger door and lightly pressed his palm into the small of my back, urging me inside. He climbed in after I scooted all the way down the car seat.
The black privacy partition slid up, hiding the driver and passenger from our view.
When the car began to move, Nicola crossed one leg over the other. Immediately, he started fidgeting with the silver gum wrapper in his hands.
“So.” He glanced at me. “You took the call.”
“I needed the cash.”
“And what happened to ‘I’m done, Nicky?’ ‘I’m not cleaning again, Nicky?’"
“Oh, do you think I do this because I love the sport of it all?” I shot back. “Keeping the ancient art of cleaning up crime scenes alive? Thomas called and asked me for a favor. And I needed the money.”
“Then just tell me how much money you need.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “Jesus Christ, Abby. Stop making this harder than it has to be.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.” His voice softened. “You won’t let anyone help.”
“I don’t want handouts.” I turned toward the window and glared at the passing cars. “I’m not that kind of person.”
“Fine.” He exhaled sharply. “Then let my lawyers look over the alimony agreement. We can cut that asshole out of your life like the tumor he is.”
I faltered. Pierce was a tumor. But… right now, he was a benign one.
The alimony kept him sober. Kept him housed. Kept him afloat.
Maybe that wasn’t my responsibility anymore. Maybe it never had been. But I couldn’t be the person who pushed him under.
“Abs?” Nicola gently poked my arm. "Are you ignoring me?"
“No, I heard you.” I forced a small smile. “Let me think about it, okay?”
I refocused on him. There were a hundred questions I wanted to ask him while he was gone.
Where had he disappeared to?
Had he thought about me?
Was he going to leave again?
What exactly were we doing?
I glanced at the space between us.
Every answer carried the risk of ruining tonight.
So instead I asked, “How did the meeting with the Ferraro family go?”
“We made some progress. Mild progress.” He leaned back against the seat. “Lorenzo Ferraro is a stubborn asshole.”
“I’m sure he thinks the same thing about you.” I smiled. “Or maybe he’s just jealous because you’re so pretty.”
“It is one of the many burdens I carry.”
I laughed and he gave me a faint smile.
“We have a tentative agreement for a ceasefire,” he continued. "Which will undoubtedly unravel if he finds out Thomas murdered one of his grandchildren.”
“It wasn’t Thomas,” I corrected. “He said his friend did it.”
“Same difference. They were both there. He let it happen.”
“Will they retaliate against Thomas?”
“If they learn the truth, undoubtedly.” Nicola rubbed at his jaw. “It was smart of him to come to you. Getting rid of the evidence buys us time.”
I frowned. “You think this will turn into a war?”
His shoulders rose and fell.
“Who knows.” His gaze settled on me. “You should have stayed the fuck away from all of us.”
“I tried that,” I reminded him and gently threaded my fingers into his. “You kept showing up at my apartment.”
His hand squeezed mine.
“And my work.”
He shifted closer until my back pressed against the door. His large hands slid up my thighs, slow and sensual.
“I couldn’t help it,” he murmured. His mouth brushed mine.
“I saw you in that hazmat suit–” Another kiss. “...and I knew I had to have you.”
I laughed against his lips and brought my arms around his neck. In the middle of his kiss, I caught a whiff of myself and winced.
“I’m not sure you want to get handsy with me right now,” I whispered. “I’m sweaty. I feel grimy. I need a shower.”
“I’ve been sitting with the Ferraros all day.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, looking unconcerned. “Trust me, I’m grimy, too.”
I laughed, and he rewarded me by catching my bottom lip between his teeth. I sighed out a soft, pleased moan and slid my fingers into his hair.
“Abs.” His forehead rested against mine. “Fuck, I missed you.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest and belly. He nuzzled into my hair, breathing me in, and every part of my body wanted to melt into him.
“All I’ve wanted all day was to get back to your tiny little apartment and drag you back to bed.” His lips found my neck.
A quiet gasp escaped me when he found the sensitive spot beneath my ear.
My other hand clutched into his suit lapel. “Then stay with me tonight.”
He pulled back just enough to smile at me. “Good girl.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“It only took you...” He glanced dramatically at his watch. “...five minutes to ask me. I was starting to get nervous.”
He pointed behind us to the trunk space and my head swiveled. Only then did I notice the large suitcase sitting there.
“Wait a minute. You packed?”
“Just the essentials. Some clothes. My hair products. My special toothpaste. My silk pillowcase. I brought one for you, too, I’m not heartless." He frowned thoughtfully. “I really hope you own an ironing board.”
I glanced back at the suitcase. It wasn’t an overnight bag. It wasn’t even a weekend bag. My stomach fluttered with both excitement and unease.
“Nicky, are you moving in?”
He looked at me as though I’d asked if the sky was blue. “Well, I’m not carrying my things up three fucking flights of stairs every night.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the only reason, huh?”
“It’s practical.”
“Well, I hope I have enough closet space for everything in there.”
“You’re just going to have to put some of your things in storage.” He flapped a hand dismissively.
I stared at him.
God, what was this?
We hadn’t talked about yesterday. We hadn’t talked about... us.
He simply showed up with a damned suitcase like it was the next obvious step.
And the coward I was, I let him.
Maybe because I had wanted this for so fucking long. Or maybe because if I really asked where this was headed… it would give him the chance to leave.
And that thought devastated me more than anything.
“You’ll make space, right?” he asked. “I'll help you decide what can stay and what can go. The orange shirt is the first on the chopping block.”
I gave his luggage another wary glance. "Just how many suits did you pack?"
“We’ll make it work,” he repeated, looking entirely satisfied with himself. I didn’t have the heart to disagree.
I looked out the window, blinking to myself several times before I turned my head again. “I’m guessing you know what a broom and a vacuum are, right?”
The confidence bled a bit from his voice. “...I could identify both in a lineup.”
“And would you be able to use them?”
“That's not really my department. I think you’ll find I’m an excellent supervisor.” He smiled sweetly at me.
"Wow. That's what my life has been missing. An asshole I can pick up after and who can tell me what to do."
He laughed and I leaned into him as I let the warm sound roll through me. My head rested upon his shoulder.
“Hey, Nicky?”
“Yeah?”
“I really missed you today. I even dressed up cute.” I smiled sheepishly. “I thought you were going to show up with another sandwich.”
His eyes traveled slowly over my oversized T-shirt, the little holes scattered near the hem, and the old yellowing bleach stain splashed across one side of my leggings.
“I mean...” he began carefully. "This isn’t exactly what I would’ve picked for work attire. But it is an improvement over the frog shirt travesty.”
I scowled. “It was a pretty dress. Red. I changed because Thomas showed up.”
His smile faded almost instantly at the mention of his brother. “Did he come inside?”
“He waited outside. Why?”
“No reason.”
The answer came too quickly. I studied him for a second before deciding not to push. “I couldn’t believe how much he’s grown. We had a really nice talk in the car.”
His jaw shifted.“...About?”
“Everything.” I smiled to myself. “God... he was just like you at that age.”
Nicola looked offended. “I don’t think so.”
“I do. He looks at you the same way you used to look at your dad. He thinks you’re invincible. Perfect.”
“He's not wrong."
I laughed. “I was there when you and Mike got drunk and tried fighting with fireworks.”
His eyes narrowed. “That never happened.”
“It absolutely did. Oh!" I patted his chest excitedly. "What about the time you accidentally took chewable laxatives instead of multivitamins?”
He looked toward the ceiling of the SUV. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.
Finally, he turned away from me with exaggerated indignation. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m not staying with you. I can't live like this.”
Fifteen minutes later, the SUV rolled to a stop outside my apartment building.
Before I could reach for the door handle, Nicola was already out, yanking the suitcase from the trunk with more force than necessary.
He extended the luggage handle with a sharp click and marched toward the entrance without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
“Wait—hold on!” I hurried after him. “I didn’t even get to the best part!”
He kept walking and I went on: “Remember you spent that entire summer convinced you’d become pen pals with a Nigerian prince? His name was Adebayo—”
Nicola stopped so abruptly I walked straight into his back.
He turned. “Are you done yet, you little shit?”
I grinned and reached up to cup his face before he could escape again. His expression softened almost immediately.
“The point I’m trying to make, Nicky...” My thumb brushed over the stubble along his jaw. “I know Thomas screwed up. I’m not excusing what happened. But he does all that stuff because he wants you to notice him. He wants you to be proud of him.”
For the briefest moment, something flickered across Nicola’s face that I couldn’t place. It didn’t look like annoyance. Perhaps guilt.
“I don’t know how to deal with all that stuff,” he admitted quietly, and looked out into the night around us.
“You already are.”
His brows were knit together when he looked down again.
“You came after him. You made sure he cleaned up his mess. You’ve already spent your entire life protecting him.”
“Well, one day he’s going to make a mistake I can’t fix. I can feel the impending explosion.”
“He’s got you and Mike. It’ll be okay.”
“Well, I’m done thinking about Thomas for one night.” His free arm slung around my shoulders and we entered through the small lobby.
He looked toward the stairwell, then down at me. “...Is there really no elevator?”
“Nope.”
“God. You people live like savages.”
I laughed as he bent, grabbed the suitcase by the side handle, and effortlessly slung it over one shoulder.
The laughter died out.
An elevator would be nice.
But watching Nicky carry an absurdly oversized suitcase up three flights of stairs like it was nothing...
...
That was pretty hot.