5. Nicola
Nicola
I bite my nails down past the tips of my fingers, waiting for Edward to arrive.
It’s well past ten, the rest of the house already tucked in for the night. Except for my father, who decided he needs to be “out” with his men, which is code for a trip to the bar.
The same trip he makes every night and is either too proud or ashamed to admit out loud to his family. But we know. We always know.
My mother, Mary, gave my hand a phantom pat on her way out the door. In Arden’s absence, it was better for her to visit her own friends, those she wasn’t allowed to see normally. And Scott? He’s barely here these days.
Either way, it gives us a better chance of searching the house without anyone getting in the way. Once Daddy is gone, Mom usually chases the rest of the guards outside. Says their presence makes her feel like she’s in prison rather than in her own home.
She’s not wrong, either. Ever since the wild hair caused my father to get into the trade and push for expansion, he hired more men to protect us. His pocket grew, and so did the threats against us.
From the Balestra family specifically.
Tonight, however, that leaves me, the housekeeper, and a few scant guards around the perimeter. Kismet, I tell myself, tearing off a piece of my cuticle and wincing at the flash of pain.
Standing on the front stoop gives me the perfect view of the rolling hill down to the main road and the few headlights cutting through the gloom. None of them make the turn up to the house.
I wrap my arms around my torso against the chill, the movement forcing me to stop my anxious nibbling. Nothing but good will come of this. That’s what I have to tell myself, to say on repeat until it becomes the truth. Edward is helping me. And although it might give him a front-row view of the inner sanctum, this is not the base of our operation.
There will be nothing for him to find and everything for me to learn by getting closer to him.
Beneath his skin.
So close to his heart that he’ll melt in my presence and spill all of his secrets at my feet. I tell myself those lies, too, unlawful though they may be. Along with the other ones, the worse ones, that make me want to crush him into a thousand pieces only to remold him into someone who would actually want to be with me.
Me.
Not Arden Salvatore's daughter. Only?—
“Nicola?”
A throat clears, and I glance up sharply, forced out of my head. My eyes squint against the darkness like it will make a shit of difference. My heart thuds a steady rhythm against my ribs, and suddenly my chills vanish. There’s enough heat in those three syllables of my name to make my knees go a little jelly.
“I’m here,” I whisper back.
My breath gusts in front of my face even though it’s early June.
Edward separates himself from the rest of the shadows like my personal boogeyman come to life. The guards are situated around the fence line, and they won’t be passing by this space for another five minutes on their rounds, leaving us a small window to get him inside without anyone noticing him.
“I thought you were going to drive,” I hiss, motioning him into the house.
“And shine a spotlight on us?” Edward scoffs. “I know better.”
How lovely it would be if we were different people. Any other two people who didn’t have our families at war with each other and an impossible road ahead of us. No matter what we may choose for ourselves, things are not going to get any easier.
Even if we find this painting that’s missing.
I gesture for him to come forward and push against the front door. He straightens and I stare up and up and up until I meet his eyes. Tall. Imposing. Dressed in a black-on-black ensemble that makes my mouth go dry and other parts of me go wet.
“I like being your dirty little secret,” he admits in a low undertone. If he wasn’t so close to me then I would have missed his words entirely. As it is, he’s in my space, and the statement becomes a physical caress, slicking along my skin.
“You’re not,” I insist. “You invited yourself if you remember.”
“Sneaking into your compound in the dead of night certainly feels like I’m a secret.”
He follows a step behind me along the trails up toward the second-story house. Not a house, I mentally correct, only four walls in a compound . Has it ever been a home?
I go tense, every one of my nerves awake and attuned to the positions of the guards on the property. We haven’t had an attack in over six months, and that works in our favor tonight. Not that the men patrolling are complacent but they’re not looking for trouble. Not expecting it.
Edward is silent on our way inside, the lights off and only a dull glow from the hallway showing the way forward.
I lock the door behind us and sling the curtains shut to block out the outside world. When I turn around, Edward is there, stealing every atom of oxygen from my lungs with his presence.
Oh, lord.
I swallow hard enough for him to hear. This is a terrible idea.
“You look good enough to eat, little fox,” he whispers. “This dress is the perfect color for you.”
Where he is dark as night, I’m the first peony blooming in spring, the button-up dress coming all the way up to my chin. I thought it would make me demure. Instead, I'm ready to choke.
I point a warning finger at him, digging it into his chest and attempting to step around him without further touching. There’s plenty of space in the living room to avoid him. Yet Edward steps with me and blocks off my path. He cuts off my escape.
Suddenly, my brain fractures. How do I play this? He’s not a toy. What would a girl like me do in this situation with a boy if we were normal?
I stop myself. Edward is no boy, and I’m far from normal. He’s too dangerous for me to drop my guard for even a second. He’s definitely too dangerous for me to focus on the kiss we shared and its effect on me.
Worry has taken its toll on me if my cuticles are an indication.
“We’re not going to be effective if you won’t let me through,” I tell him sweetly.
Edward rubs his chin, and my teeth grind together. “You’re right. I can’t help myself when I’m around you. There is something about you, Nicola…” he trails off. “Something I can’t ignore.”
He’s going to have to help himself, just like I am.
“Think about it later. Right now, we’re trying to search my house to look for a stupid painting.”
It still rankles me to think that Edward wants to start here, but at least I’m on my turf. The roles are not reversed, where he’s the one sneaking me into his house. Talk about unsteady footing.
Finally, I push past him, shoulder-checking him on the way, and his loaded chuckle trails me to the far corners of the room.
It’s too damn late for any of this; my situation is locked and loaded. My head and my heart pound in unison even as alarm bells go off inside of me. Having Edward here is a huge risk, and I have no clue what’s going to happen if someone finds us together.
Without saying a word, we head for the office, the logical first place to check. The chill on my skin is contagious and spreads to every extremity.
“Your father has secrets, little fox,” Edward whispers. “How do you feel about finding some of them out tonight?”
His hand skims my lower back to push me along, get me moving faster. Apparently, I’m too slow for his taste.
A racecar is too slow for him.
“I know my father,” I argue softly, although the tone gives the words a decided lack of punch. “He isn’t capable of doing the things people say he is. He deserves to go to hell and sit on the evil’s lap, but…” Do I tell Edward I think his dad is looking for an excuse to strike?
I worry my lower lip.
“Yes?” he prompts. Knocking me with his pelvis in time with the word.
I gulp again, louder this time. “I think this is all a ploy.” There. Now it’s out in the open.
Edward is silent, mulling over my opinion. “It’s hard to say. Alcohol can change a personality beyond recognition.”
I whirl around and glare at Edward. “I suppose you’re the definitive source on the subject then?”
“I know my way around a bottle.” He arches an imperious bow, and my breath hitches. “I’ve been there before. Nowhere near the level of your dad, though.”
I grind my back molars together and stalk past him, terribly aware of Edward prowling the hallway behind me. He’s not here to insult my family. He’s here to save us all. To absolve us.
Right?
A hand wraps around the back of my neck seconds before his opposite palm slaps against my mouth. The one on my neck slips down, a strong arm wrapping around my torso, and my back suddenly pressed to his front. I feel every line of him. Every hard, unyielding, dominating line of Edward Balestra as he bends to my ear and whispers a plea to be quiet.
It’s never been my forte. But my skin breaks out at the sound of footsteps. An ungainly gait toddling down the hall toward the foyer seconds before the front door slams.
“I thought you said we were going to be alone?”
The tone sets my bones trembling.
I bob my head, unable to say anything against his palm. Those rough calluses push against my lips, heat trailing down from the touch all the way toward the center of me. This close to him, the scent of spice and liquor and smoke twine together. Intoxicating.
I arch my hips slightly, and Edward slips his hand from my mouth to rest it at the base of my neck, but he hasn’t moved. Neither have I.
“We’re supposed to be alone,” I hiss. “The housekeeper is usually in bed by this time. I guess today she’s late. Midnight snack?”
“Is she also half blind? Because this armoire is doing a shit job of hiding us from view.”
I smirk. “Something like that.” And because we’re too close and because it’s too easy for me to stay here and draw his scent into me, memorizing it, I push back against him. When that does nothing, I dig my elbow into his stomach until Edward chuckles, and his arm goes slack. Hand slipping away.
“Message received, little fox.”
I feel his touch on my skin like a brand through every step we take away from our hiding place.
The door to the office is open. Arrogantly open because Daddy never expects any of us to go in there. It’s his mess and his chaos, his domain and filled with his possessions. The only time I went inside was for those meetings where he insisted I be present.
If Edward notices how I linger at the door, he says nothing, clamping down on his jaw and bringing its shape to my attention.
He increases the pressure at my back. “You never struck me as a coward.”
I go stiff. “Coward?” I test the word. “How do you figure?”
“You’re staring at the threshold like it’s the line to the underworld.”
Is it not? Considering what happens in this room, how many lives hang in the balance when Daddy sits at his desk…
I clear my throat. “It’s just not the kind of place you go if you want to remember happy times.”
“We all have skeletons in the closet.” Edward says it as if I should remember his own skeletons.
Before I have a chance to engage in the witty repartee I desperately want to use as a smokescreen, his lips press to the back of my neck, and I freeze. His body crowds mine, taller and stronger, and heat blasts through me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“ Searching .” His hands land on my hips to steady me as he kisses his way along my neck, first on the left, then the right. Edward nips at my ear before his palms slide down to my thighs, smoothing up to the curve of my ass. He brings his palm down with a muffled spank I feel all the way through me.
“You’re such a tease.”
“In the best possible way.” His voice is a purring growl of sound. “You like it, little fox.”
More than I’m ready to admit.
A gentle tug breaks our contact, and it’s only the meagerest ounce of control that takes me from Edward’s probing hands to the bowels of the Salvatore home base.
“He wouldn’t keep the painting out in the open. He’d stash it somewhere.”
“What makes you think he wouldn’t hide it in his bedroom?”
“He’d want it somewhere public. Where his competitors would never know it existed, but it’s still under their nose.” I know him too well.
Through every step, I’m keenly aware of Edward’s bulk. Is it really better to work with the unknown demon to help the devil I know? I’m just not sure. Especially not when his presence has sucked up every atom of air in the room, and my chest is tight in all the wrong places.
I’m too loose in others and have to clamp my thighs together to keep them from trembling.
Those hands would feel so good on my actual skin. What else do those lips of his do?
“You’re not going to find a painting on me, Nicola.”
I glare at him, flushed at being caught staring. “I know,” I snap.
“Although I do have a tattoo.” He offers the comment casually enough for my interest to immediately perk. “It’s somewhere hidden. Somewhere you’ll only get to see if you’re a good girl.”
“Is it on your…ass?”
Edward chuckles before asking, “How badly would you like to find out?”
The tension at being caught any moment adds to the sexiness of the banter and when his chuckle grows darker, I know he’s seen the flush to my cheeks.
I lift my face to his, jutting my chin out. Uncomfortable because I know there’s no painting here. We’re going through the motions of a perfunctory search before I throw my hands in the air.
“This is pointless.”
Edward straightens from where he’s searching the shelves for hidden mechanisms. “What about a safe?”
“It’s not large enough to hold the painting Gio described,” I reply.
“Then maybe we need a break.” He crosses the room in three strides and takes my head in his hands, his fingers scouring through my hair to gently tip my face up to meet his.
“What—”
It’s also pointless to ask. My breath hitches in my chest, and I’m squirming beneath his hands as he lowers his lips to mine. A shadow veils his eyes before I lose sight of him. He drags me to his chest, mouth open, kissing me deeply until our tongues tangle and my stomach bunches.
This is different from the kiss in the garden.
My body reacts immediately, going hot and pliant like it somehow trusts him when I’m not sure it’s warranted.
Wetness pools between my legs, and his tongue in my mouth tugs at me. I nip down on his lip, running my hands over his where he holds me, softening.
As long as he doesn't stop kissing me. As long as he keeps touching me.
Edward groans and shifts his head to change up the angle. He kisses me harder. I should run. I should give in. I should get control of myself because I’m not supposed to feel this safe in his arms. Not when he’s bruising my lips and so close to sweeping me off my feet.
I gasp as his hand drops to my breasts and squeezes.
“Not tonight,” I somehow manage to get out.
“That implies the possibility of it happening another night,” he counters.
But he’s smiling when I break away. Tingling and horny, we manage to search the rest of the ground floor before a yawn splits my lips. For a different reason.
“I think it’s time we call it. The painting isn’t here. We knew it wouldn’t be.”
My heart constricts at the way he looks at me.
Edward leans forward slightly forward. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a brief glimpse of dark chest hair and perky muscle. My mouth goes dry, and I lick my lips to prove to myself, and to him, I’m not impacted by the sight at all.
Except I am, and he notes the gesture if his smirk tells me anything.
“Try to keep your nose clean, Nicola,” he purrs. “I’d hate to have to come back and bail you out of trouble.”
“You are trouble.”
“I never said I wasn’t. Except I’m the type of trouble who will make sure you survive it if only to play another round.”
“And the trouble I might find if you are not around?”
This time, I’m not even surprised by myself. Normally, I hold my tongue. I keep the boldness to a minimum.
Edward is to blame. He coaxes it out of me.
“Let’s hope you never do. That is something you won’t survive. And I like the look of you. It would be a waste for you to die.”
He purses his lips in a facsimile of blowing me a kiss before pushing back from the doorjamb. The darkness swallows him whole, the murky light from the cloudy sky overhead not giving me enough light to track his movements.
He’ll be fine, I tell myself.
He’ll crawl back to whatever den he came from, and I'll stay here dealing with my own demons. Whatever bullshit he and my father get into, it has nothing to do with me, and it’s stupid to get involved when there is no need.
Except Daddy needs me. He’s not fit to do any of this on his own, not anymore.
I stumble on my first step backward, reaching out to grab hold of the corner of the bookshelf to steady myself.
Where do we go from here? How do I proceed?
Daddy forgives me for many things, but if he ever finds out that I snuck Edward into our home, he’ll be furious. Beyond enraged.
The slamming of the front door is the manifestation of these fears and I swallow hard, my tongue knotting itself, my stomach turning to acrobatics.
“Nicola!”
My name is a blur of sound with all the syllables slurred together. He’s back from wherever he’s been drinking, slurring his words, drunk off his ass.
“Nicola, where the fuck are you?” Arden calls. “Scott? Mary!”
It doesn’t matter that it’s the middle of the night. No matter where Daddy stands in the house, his voice carries, and if I’d been in my room, I would have heard him just as well. Nights like these…it’s best to just do as he wants.
Knowing what those fists can do, how they feel in the soft parts of a body, it’s best to steer clear of him. It will be the first smart thing I’ve done today.