4. Nicola
Nicola
T he ludicrousy of his offer strikes me so sharply it’s hard to move, and for a long moment, I only stare at Edward like he’s grown a second head. He…wants to help me?
I want to tell him it’s not my problem, the missing painting. Except it is. If Daddy takes personal offense to the accusation, he’ll make my life, all our lives, a living hell.
He’ll launch a counterstrike against the Balestras and obliterate their truce.
Not to mention, I really don’t want to work with Edward. Just like I don’t want to like him. And his offer reeks of subterfuge, and I’m the only one doing the colluding here.
If Daddy ever finds out I snubbed the offer to get closer to Edward, things will take a turn, and I’m pulling at every option my mind offers, looking for the one that will hurt less.
“I swear on my honor.” Edward holds up two fingers pointed at the sky. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help you and clear your father. I know it wasn’t you who took the painting. I know better than anyone else. Giovanni won’t stop until he finds it and the quickest way to get scrutiny off of you will be to search.”
“Ah, so you’re the one who took it.”
Edward snorted, his brow furrowing and shade deepening the wrinkles below his hairline. “No, little fox. It wasn’t me.”
“For all I know, maybe it was your brilliant plan to kiss me stupid while your father makes a move on mine. Then you rush in like a black knight to save the day and make me trust you.” I lean in closer. “Newsflash, Eddie. You and your whole damn clan can go take a flying jump. I’ll help Daddy on my own.”
It won’t look good for me to appear eager. I damaged my reputation badly enough with the kiss, and how I wanted it, liked it, almost let it go too far.
I stay to the outskirts of the garden maze rather than heading down moss and rhododendron paths. Heaven forbid we make our way back to the arbor or the extremely romantic fountain at the heart.
Having Edward here is a bad idea. Refusing his offer is worse. Do I trust myself to play my part without losing control and running it?
I glare at him over my shoulder and almost miss my next step.
Do I trust him to keep his hands to himself? I might be able to pull this off if he stays a foot away at all times.
“Please. It would be my honor to do this for you.”
“Why are you so insistent?” I want to know. “You don’t even like me. You’ve never liked me.”
Besides, men and women don’t have to be friends to kiss. I’ve seen my parents together. They flit around the house, him a tyrant and her a ghost, and they have children. They hate each other.
Edward would use me as a conquest to undermine the Salvatores and secure the reign of the Balestras. Which is fine. It’s business. I’m using him as well.
I used that kiss in the garden to lower his guard even if—I shake my head. It’s ridiculously difficult to admit to myself the other reasons I kind of want to let things progress between us. Then again, as Daddy says, I’ve always been feisty and stubborn. I do things my own way, no matter what society says is proper.
He’s never been able to degrade it out of me.
“I like you well enough,” Edward insists. His soft smile shifts into a leer when I turn to face him. “I like the way you feel.”
I roll my eyes even when heat spirals down into my stomach, and certain parts of me he’s already stroked start to tingle again. “And what do you get out of this? Hmm? What are you expecting as payment?”
“Nothing.”
He answers too quickly to be innocent.
I slide my hands off of my hips. Down toward the crook of my inner thighs before letting my arms hang limply at my sides. A suggestive gesture he no doubt takes note of.
“Look, I’m sure that you have this entire situation handled, Nicola.” He steps toward me, and the distance between us goes up in flames. There’s no room to breathe, and there’s no room to escape. Even if I wanted to…it's becoming harder and harder to want, if I’m being honest.
Which I hate being because that makes this so much harder to look at objectively.
“I’m sure you have all the resources you need at your disposal, but I have a gut feeling you're a little too close to this to remain objective. Am I right?”
He’s the epitome of control, and it irks me. The arrogance, the sheer belief that he is the one who knows best in all aspects, even this, gets under my skin.
But…
And it’s a big but.
What wouldn’t I do for my father?
Edward senses me wavering and hurries on to say, “We have the opportunity to start a war before it begins.”
I shake my head. “No one said anything about a war.”
“You see what they did to each other the moment they were alone?” Edward sweeps an arm back toward the house. The heat of the day has plastered his shirt to his chest beneath the suit jacket. My mouth goes dry. “They missed on purpose. It won’t happen again. And all that because of an insult. My father believes he’s correct. He’ll do whatever it takes unless we either find the painting or clear Arden.”
I wish he was wrong. Then, let them destroy each other. I nearly say it out loud before catching my tongue.
“I’ve got more resources than you do. More established means of finding out information.
“I don’t need your resources. We have plenty of trustworthy and competent people at our disposal. If Giovanni is serious in his accusation against mine then I’ll get to the bottom of it on my own. Not to mention, I’m not in a position to pay whatever it is you’ll ask for your help.”
“Who says I want any monetary compensation?”
My head whips up at the dark invitation in those syllables. “I wasn’t talking about money.”
No, we both understand the flimsy foundation we stand on and how easy it will be to have it all crumble beneath us. That’s what happens when you build any sort of relationship, even a tentative friendship or begrudging respect, on sand. Heat and chemistry are not a good place to start, and considering how easy it was to get lost in those sensations?—
And our families, held back on chains of halfhearted promises and air, both of them ready to collide.
Then, the farther I stay away from Edward Balestra, the better. Even when my father is the one who pushes me toward the young man.
Even when working with him might mean a chance to rub Daddy’s innocence in Giovanni’s face to boot.
“How long do I have to think about it?” I ask into the silence.
Edward huffs out a laugh. “I’d say the sooner you agree to let me help you, the better it will be for everyone.” His gaze hardens, and all hints of mirth disappear. “Nicola, you know your father’s reputation, and I’m sure there is much talk on the street that is not just conjecture. He’s a drunk, and he’s a gambler, and he’s made his living by stepping on other people’s toes. It’s made him rich, but how much longer can his luck hold out? Father won’t stop.”
I stay quiet because Edward is right, and there is no point in arguing about it.
“I’m sure he’s done some fucked up shit in his time, just as my father has. Just as I have.”
It’s like the door is open for me to step through and admit to the terrible things I’ve seen. I haven’t done enough. Nothing that will stand up against the black hearts of the men in my life, and right now, that includes Edward.
“What will he do? Giovanni?” I ask tentatively, drawing my fingers along the cottony soft bell of a foxglove blossom. “If he truly believes Arden stole from him?”
“You already know the answer to it.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Edward groans and slides a hand through his night-black hair. “He’ll make a statement, whether he’s right or wrong.”
“Obliteration.”
“Scorched earth,” Edward agrees. “Only you did not hear it from me.”
Of course not. If either monarch found out that kingdom secrets had been spilled, even something someone on the outside might coin as innocent, we were done.
“Let me use what I’ve learned for you this time. I am at your disposal.” He holds his arms out wide, and a sudden deep and irresistible urge makes me want to walk into them. To lean into the comfort and stability he’s offering.
Get close. By any means necessary. Those were the words I’d heard before the fist raised to make sure I understood, the period at the end of a horrifying sentence.
Damnit , Daddy .
“Fine,” I agree. “But you’re in trouble now. I expect a great deal out of your so called help.”
Edward arches a dark brow so high it disappears into the lock of hair across his forehead. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“Seems like a far cry from your earlier no, little fox. I’m not going to stop to question it, but I am going to make you shake on it.” He thrusts his hand between us, and I stare at it like it’s a snake ready to lunge at my throat. “On your honor.”
“My honor? Is that really what we’re questioning?” I force out a laugh and ignore the way I shiver looking at those fingers. Knowing exactly where they’d been and what they’d done.
“My honor, too. Let’s call this a step toward the peace those men in there are constantly touting and yet never manage to accomplish. We’ll be the change we want to see in this tiny world of ours. We’ll work together,” he finishes.
I slap my palm against Edward’s, and he squeezes my hand. Why does it feel like I’m signing away my soul to the devil himself? Willingly, too. “Then tell me where we’re going to start. Since you talk like you’re the man with the plan.”
“I’d say let’s start by searching your house for this painting. Or whatever else we come across.” He stumbles over his words at the immediate glower on my face at the suggestion that we’re starting here because my father is guilty. Why else? “I know your father didn’t do it, but at least that way, we can both say for certain. Father won’t question me if I back you up. He’ll trust my word.”
“You’re a jerk,” I growl out, tugging my hand back from his.
Only Edward refuses to let me go and grips me tighter to keep me in place. He slowly lifts my knuckles to his mouth and kisses one after the other. “I’ve never claimed to be anything else. Jerk is a compliment.”
How easy it would be to lean forward on my tiptoes and kiss him again. To taste the strength in those lips of his, to feel his tongue tangle with mine, and the way his hands are a brand on my body. He’s started to write himself on my skin in a way that no other man has before.
My inexperience will be the death of me.
The stolen moments over the years will have to count, the fumbling fool around of someone who knows their time is short. Several of the guards made great playthings. Even when I knew what would happen to them if we were caught.
And the one time I managed to sneak out with a friend, only to meet a boy. I’d been there for an hour before the guards found me and dragged me back to the house.
But in that hour, oh, that hour.
I’d been kissed in a storage closet. I’d gone down on my knees for a stranger in the storage closet and been in awe of the manhood in front of me, only because it was so different from anything I’d felt before. Longer than I bargained, softer than my imagination. And harder once I had it between my lips.
Would Edward go farther than the boy in the closet?
Right now, he seems to know exactly where my mind has gone and follows me down that path. “Nicola.” My name comes out as a growl. “I’ll come back tonight. But you’re going to have to let me in.”
I finally manage to tug free of him and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Haven’t I already?”