Chapter 34
Aubergine.
EIGHT MONTHS LATER.
I was gently guided into the backseat of the SUV. Nicola loosened his tuxedo’s bow tie before climbing in after me.
The very second that the door shut, I let out a long groan and kicked off my heels.
“I hated every fucking second of that.” He shut his eyes and rested his head against the seat.
When the car pulled away from the curb, he cracked one eye open to look at me. “How much did you have to drink?”
“A few glasses.” I wiggled in my seat like I was dancing. “Feelin’ good. How about you?”
“Not nearly enough,” he muttered. He leaned forward and looked through the partition. “Gio, let’s go home before the missus starts hurling.”
“Wait—wait!” I sat upright. “You owe me real food!”
He looked at me, perplexed. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t like the frou-frou stuff. The chef kept talking about ’oxygen.’” I made air quotes. “Chemistry and food should never be used in the same sentence. You told me it was going to be a nice dinner. That was like eating crunchy pieces of air.”
A laugh escaped him. “Fine. We’ll grab pizza, then go home.”
"Now you're talkin'." I sighed dreamily and curled against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
"You have very low standards."
“Have I told you lately how pretty you are?” I asked.
“Not recently, no. Maybe you should be drunk more often.”
My eyes drifted shut as I laced my fingers through his. “Do you think tonight went well?”
“I think so.” He let out a measured breath. “New Jersey and Long Island have been at odds for generations. Getting all three Families in one room was pretty monumental.”
“You think they’ll help you against Ferraro?”
“If I don’t let them see how desperate I am.” His thumb absentmindedly traced circles against the back of my hand. “I know you hate these things, but schmoozing is the only way.”
“It’s not the people I hate.” I gestured toward my waist. “It’s the shapewear. I feel like a stuffed sausage.”
He looked me over thoughtfully.
“You’re a beautiful stuffed sausage.” He kissed my temple. “And red looks good on you.”
I snorted. “Thanks... I think.”
A flickering 'OPEN' sign glowed through the car's tinted windows. Before the vehicle had completely stopped, I hopped out.
“Abs—” Nicola grunted and climbed out after me. "Your shoes!”
“They hurt my feet so bad,” I whined, standing barefoot on the sidewalk and threw my arms out. “Just let me live free, Nicky."
“I’m fairly certain they can refuse us service if you walk in barefoot.”
“Yeah, but, you’re a don.”
“So?”
“I don’t think they can tell you no.”
“You know, you’re completely right.” He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we started toward the door.
“It isn’t the power or title that thrills me about running a Family. It’s knowing I can use my influence on a couple teenagers working a night shift at a pizza parlor.”
I squinted at him. “I think you’re being sarcastic.”
“I would never.” He pulled away from me to open the door and gestured in. “Hold your dress up a little. You’re dragging.”
I gathered the hem up before entering.
The young cashier looked up from the register and smiled at our approach. “Wow. You two look nice.”
“Thank you,” I said brightly. “He just told me I looked like a stuffed sausage.”
Nicola's hand snaked around and immediately covered my mouth.
“Can we get one pepperoni and—”
I held up three fingers to him. He sighed. ”And one meat lovers.”
The cashier looked at me questioningly and then him. Nicola shook his head. “Ignore her. She’s bad at math.”
We settled onto the stools at a high-top table, I folded my arms and glared at him.
"I asked for three."
He gestured toward the enormous slice hanging over the edge of the paper plate. “Aubergine, it’s bigger than your fucking head. If you can eat more than that, I'll buy you a new car.”
"I'll take you up on that bet, buddy." I folded the slice in half and took a huge bite.
"Oh my God." I moaned dramatically. “This is incredible. They should’ve served this at the summit.”
He chuckled. “Greasy pizza on a paper plate doesn’t exactly scream sophistication."
"Yeah, speaking of." A little grease glistened at the corner of his mouth. I grabbed a napkin and leaned across the table. “Hold still.”
He froze. I gently wiped it clean. “There. Wouldn’t want you ruining that tux.”
He smiled softly, and I faltered. It wasn't Nicola's usual amused smirk. It was something quieter... gentler, that turned my insides warm and gooey.
He looked at me for another second before his gaze drifted over his shoulders, checking our surroundings.
The cashier disappeared into the back. We were alone.
"I need to talk to you about something." His smile faded and he absently straightened the edge of his paper plate. “...I know you’re drunk. I may have to repeat this conversation in the morning.”
I laughed. “That sounds ominous.”
“It isn’t.” He folded his napkin in half. Then unfolded it, like he was messing with his gum wrappers, just on a larger scale. “I had a meeting with my lawyer and accountant earlier.”
I took another bite and listened. He drew in a slow breath. “There are assets I own that aren’t associated with… dirty money.”
My chewing slowed.
“I’m transferring several of those into your name. A few businesses my father owned. Some investments. And an offshore bank account.”
I swallowed and lowered my pizza back to its plate. “Hang on, you’re giving me businesses?”
“Among other things.”
My brow furrowed. “N-no. Nicky, you can’t do that. Those are yours.”
“They won’t be if something happens to me.”
That made my stomach turn cold and I squared my shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“Any day, without warning, the FBI could come crashing through the doors and seize assets. They could take all of mine. They can’t touch what’s legally only yours. Especially overseas.”
“And in this scenario...” My voice came out quieter than I intended, almost cracking. “You’re... what, in prison?”
His shoulders rose and fell.
“I’m hoping it doesn't happen, Abs.” He offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But this fucking mole has me thinking about contingencies. Better safe than sorry.”
“I don’t even want to think about that," I whispered.
“My father did time.” His tone stayed matter-of-fact. “They don’t need much to indict somebody if they’re motivated enough.”
I looked down at my pizza, suddenly not very hungry anymore.
He sighed.
“Oh, don’t do the sad face.” He reached across the table and his thumb brushed gently across my cheek. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
I covered his hand with mine and his expression softened.
“I’m trying to make sure you’re taken care of.”
“I understand that, but...” I stared up at him. “What about Michael and Thomas?”
“They’ll be alright.” He smiled. “Odds are they’d be sitting in the cell next to me.”
I dropped his hand from my face. “That isn’t funny.”
“No. Probably not.” He glanced at the window. Silence followed for a moment.
He looked down at the table and folded his napkin into a neat square, then halved it into a triangle. Unfolded it. Then folded it again.
I watched, frowning. “Nicky? Are you okay? You’re starting to freak me out.”
“There was one other thing.” He cleared his throat.
I tilted my head. "Okay..."
He rubbed the back of his neck. “If we were married, you’d have spousal immunity. They can’t force you to testify against me.”
Married.
Married?
My brain promptly went on the fritz. It took a second to reboot.
“...What?”
“I discussed it with my lawyer and my accountant. And we all agreed it would make transferring everything much cleaner and simpler, too.”
...
Nicola Moretti was proposing.
In a dingy pizza shop. At one-thirty in the morning.
I laughed once in complete disbelief. “Am I getting this right, your lawyer and accountant convinced you to propose to me?"
"Well, yeah."
I dropped my forehead against my palm and it made a smacking sound. “Oh my God.”
"What?"
Annoyed, I gestured out with my free hand. “So, where’s my ring?”
“I didn’t buy one. I figured you’d hate whatever I picked.”
My annoyance bled away for a moment. “I probably would’ve.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Wait-- goddamnit, that isn’t the point! What... what about asking my dad for permission?”
He looked confused again. “You’re a grown woman. And this isn't 1910.”
“Well, I’m divorced, remember? We can’t get married in the church.”
“I don’t mind. We’ll get married somewhere else.”
“Oh, well, that fixes everything,” I muttered, staring at the tabletop. My head shot up and I snapped my fingers at him. “I’ve never even met your Mother.”
“You can meet her whenever you want.”
“I–I don’t know your middle name.”
“Anthony.”
“After your Father?”
He nodded. For several long seconds, I just stared at the ridges of the paper plate.
Finally I shook my head. “Look, it needs to be said. You’re awful at this, Nicola. I’ve been very nice and patient with you because I’m shallow and you're attractive.”
He snorted. ”This is you being nice?”
I leaned across the table. “Pierce proposed on a beach.”
Nicola’s jaw immediately tightened.
“It was cheesy and I couldn’t hear half of what he said because the ocean was so fucking loud. But you know what? It was still infinitely more romantic than being told, ‘my lawyer and accountant think this is tax efficient.’”
Nicola looked completely bewildered. “Well, I wasn’t trying to compete with Pierce. I wasn’t trying to create a romantic memory. I was trying to make sure you’d be safe.”
... Well. Shit.
I swallowed and made an exasperated sigh. “Nicky...”
“I figured all that would come afterward.” He shrugged. “You’d pick out a ring. We'd celebrate, whatever. I just wanted to make sure the important part happened first.”
“But... it just feels like you haven't thought this through."
"Of course I have."
"Then, what about kids? You told me months ago you didn’t want them.” My throat tightened. “And I do.”
“I didn’t, before.” He stared. “But that was before you took over my life.”
Annoyance slowly began slipping through the cracks again.
God help me, he was impossible. Not malicious. Not thoughtless.
Just… well, Nicola.
The ride home was quiet. More thoughtful than anything.
I watched the city lights streak across the tinted windows while my fingers idly tugged at my bottom lip. Nicola sat beside me, giving me space, while he worked on his phone.
Nicola Moretti proposed to me. And presented it like we were filling out paperwork at the DMV.
A small, amused laugh came through my nose.
God. Only him.
He’d transferred businesses into my name. Moved money overseas. Planned for a future where he wasn’t around anymore. Asked me to marry him.
None of those things sounded like a man who didn’t love me.
My smile faded.
So why couldn’t he just say it?
By the time we got home, I was exhausted.
Nicola’s path diverted to his study to make a call and I went upstairs. I changed into pajamas. I washed away the makeup, brushed my teeth, and caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror after.
Mrs. Moretti.
I tilted my head.
Did that sound right?
I climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders.
What was the alternative, walking away? Pretend I hadn’t built a life with this man?
I glanced over my shoulder to his side of the bed.
Maybe the romance books and movies indoctrinated me into believing every man was supposed to say ’I love you’ in the proper way.
But… that wasn’t Nicola’s way, was it?
I loved him. He showed me he cared. My lips curved into a tiny smile.
That would be enough for me.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door eased open. Nicola stepped inside quietly. After disappearing into the closet, he re-emerged in lounge pants and a t-shirt.
He noticed I was awake and paused. Instead of sliding in and wrapping me in his arms like he usually did– he settled onto his side of the bed.
I didn't like that at all. With a tightened chest, I rolled onto my side to face him.
“Nicky.”
He looked over. I reached across the mattress until my fingertips brushed his forearm.
“I’ll do it.”
He blinked. “You will?”
“Yeah.” I smiled.
After the surprise wore off, relief softened every line of his face. Then he looked away sheepishly.
“It… wasn’t supposed to come across like a business transaction. I fucked that up pretty badly.”
I stayed quiet while his gaze fixed upon the ceiling.
“I have a good imagination, Abs. I can see every possible thing that could go wrong. If it happens to me, that’s just a part of the job. But the thought of it happening to you– everything suddenly feels like a time bomb about to go off. I was eager to get it taken care of, and I guess,
I forgot people usually start with the romantic side of things.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. Sorry I was an asshole about it.”
“You weren’t.” Nicola’s mouth tightened as he struggled to articulate. His hands came up emphatically. “When you find someone you love, you want to build a fortress around them.”
I stopped breathing. I don’t even know if my heart was pumping anymore.
His brow furrowed when I didn’t respond.
Love. He said… love.
Holy shit.