5. Valeria #2
I stroke along Coco’s soft fur. “Where is Dom?”
Annetta sets the plate in front of me with a soft click. A dreamy look passes over her face. “He’s on his way home. He should be here soon. Are you staying for dinner?”
Dom’s wild grin and massive form fill my mind. He’s the type of man who could flay a person’s skin from muscle and laugh about it the entire time. I repress a shiver. Better make this visit quick and not earn any more attention from Don Salvatore’s inner circle than I already have.
“No. I came by to talk to you about something.”
She nods intently with a look of concern. “Your engagement.”
“Thank god,” I blurt out.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What for?”
Between Mom, Dad, and Stefano, I feel like I’m being gaslit.
Annetta has the proper “sorry you’re getting engaged to a complete asshole” expression on her face.
Between her reaction and Coco in my arms, I finally relax enough to let out a huge sigh and admit out loud what I’ve been thinking for days, “I can’t go through with this.”
“I know.” Annetta turns toward her fridge, pulls out a sandwich I suspect is entirely homemade and specially made for me once she knew I was coming, cuts it in half, and passes it to me. “We’re going to make a plan.”
I take a bite of my sandwich and stroke Coco’s soft ears while Annetta shifts into business mode. She waves her chef’s knife in the air like a conductor’s baton. “Do you know why he picked you?”
My face flushes with heat. Our one-night stand. It’s the only reason I have, but it floods me with embarrassment to admit out loud. I’m good in bed, but not that good.
“Well…” I take a huge bite to stall. BLT, my favorite. “We did, sort of, sleep together.”
“What?” Annetta fumbles the knife into the kitchen sink. It drops with a sharp, expensive clatter. She turns her wide, Bambi eyes on me. “You what?”
“It was at a party. I didn’t know who he was. But, I’m pretty sure he knew who I was.”
The press of warm limbs, the fullness of him inside me, and his whispered praise all cascade through my mind. I shake the images from my thoughts. They’re not helping right now.
“Well.” Annetta picks the knife back up, inspects the sharp edge, and rinses it off before drying it. “Was it good?”
“It was excellent.”
She bites back a look of amusement. “Oh.”
“But that was it. We didn’t even exchange names. I went home, and the next day we were supposed to be engaged.” I lower my half-eaten sandwich onto my plate. Coco must sense my nervous energy, because she wakes up and wriggles off my lap to join her sister in the living room. “How fucked am I?”
“Excellently, apparently.”
I groan. “Just shoot me now.”
“I know, sorry.” She sets aside the knife and claps her hands together. “So. You two had an amazing time. That makes things harder, but not impossible. Dom told me Nico had already picked you the night of your dad’s yacht party. Great sex or not, he had his eye on you.”
Relief washes over me, mixing with dread.
If he picked me before we slept together, then my poor choice in partners didn’t necessarily ruin my life, but it probably didn’t make things better, and I have no idea what other reason he could’ve had to marry me.
My parents have money, but his definitely have much more.
A stress headache starts to tick against my temples. I’m missing too much.
“He was at that party?” I ask. I didn’t even see him there—I stayed just long enough to make sure things were running smoothly, then ditched the party to go cuddle under the blankets on my bed and watch a scary movie. People never notice me at Family events, and I do my best to keep it that way.
“He told Don Salvatore he was ‘madly in love with you’. He…” Annetta’s mouth twists like she doesn’t want to say the rest. “He stopped Don Salvatore from killing your dad.”
I can almost see my future home in Springfield crumbling onto itself, the roof caving in, the front door splintering under the weight with a spray of wood chips. Nico loves me?
He claimed me in front of the don himself.
He saved my dad’s life—even if he couldn’t save Dad from what came after. Nico did more for my family than anyone else would’ve.
What does that mean?
I don’t even know him.
You know what he’s like in bed.
It didn’t mean anything. I clutch onto that thought like a lifeline, while the rest of my being tries to float away.
None of this makes sense.
For whatever reason, Nico picked me, and I refuse to accept it’s because he’s madly in love with me, or whatever bullshit he told Don Salvatore. He doesn’t know me. I don’t know him.
I push my plate away. I want to go home. Hide under my blankets and put on the scariest, goriest movie I can find, something to distract my thoughts for a while, but I know this isn’t going away. I need information—to find anything I can work to my advantage.
“Why?” I finally ask, sifting through my thoughts like looking for a diamond in the mud. “Why do you think he said that?”