Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nico
I’m in my home gym, sweat pouring down my back, muscles burning as I push through another set of bench presses. Music blasts through the speakers, heavy, aggressive beats that match the storm in my head. I finish the rep with a grunt, racking the bar with a loud clang, and sit up.
The door opens. I groan and reach for my phone on the floor, pausing the music as Marco walks in. He looks like shit, same as me. Dark circles under his eyes, hair messy, like he didn’t have more than an hour’s sleep like myself.
“Morning boss,” he greets.
I wipe sweat off my face with a towel. “Tell me you found the other Caruso girl.”
Marco shakes his head. “Not yet. Still looking for her and that boyfriend. They’re ghosts right now.”
I stay silent, waiting. He didn’t come down here just to tell me what I already know.
“We caught one of the bastards who hit our warehouses.”
I sit up straighter, adrenaline cutting through the workout haze. “Bring him to me.”
“Already got him in the basement,” Marco replies. “Figured you’d want first crack at him.”
“Good.”
He shifts his weight. “We also have reason to believe Gallo might’ve found the location of the mansion.”
I nod slowly, jaw tight. “When he comes, we’ll be ready. Make sure security is tripled. No gaps.”
“Already on it.”
I stare at him. Marco’s never been one to dance around shit, but right now he’s hesitating. I know that look.
“Out with it,” I say.
He raises his hands in a half-surrender. “I don’t mean to question your authority—”
“Then don’t.”
He exhales. “I heard you put the Caruso girl in the room right next to yours.”
I raise a brow, waiting for him to continue.
“That’s… strange,” he says carefully.
“How so?” My voice is deceptively calm.
“She’s trouble, Nico. You said it yourself. Keeping her that close…” He trails off.
I toss the towel aside. “Exactly. She’s troublesome as hell. I need eyes on her at all times. That girl would try to climb out a window the second she thinks no one is looking. This way I can keep a close watch on her.”
Marco studies me for a beat too long, like he wants to say more, but thinks better of it. “Okay,” he finally says, nodding. “I’ll leave you to your workout.”
He turns and walks out, closing the door behind him.
I sit there on the bench, staring at the weights, chest still heaving. Whatever he thinks is the reason I put her in the room next to mine, he’s wrong.
Is he?
I ignore the voice in my head and load on more weight, pushing through another brutal set. The burn in my chest and shoulders feels good, grounding.
Gallo finding the location of the estate isn’t a surprise.
I expected it. When he finally comes for his bride, we’ll be ready.
He’s not getting Eleonora until I’ve squeezed every last concession I want out of both him and Caruso.
The alliance will crumble first. Only then will I decide what to do with her.
I rack the bar with a heavy clang, sit up, and wipe the sweat from my face with the towel.
My muscles are pumped and screaming, but my mind is already shifting to the basement.
Last night, one of my warehouses was hit hard.
I know Gallo had a hand in it. Today, I’m going to find out exactly how deep that hand went.
I head downstairs toward the kitchen to grab water before dealing with our new guest.
Lea is already in there, bustling around like a tornado in an apron.
The smell of fresh coffee, bacon, and eggs fills the air.
She’s been running this house since I was a kid.
She practically raised me after my mother died.
The only woman on this earth who can talk to me like I’m still ten years old and actually get away with it.
“Morning, Nico,” she says without turning around, flipping something in the pan.
“Morning, Lea.”
I open the fridge, grab a cold bottle of water, and twist the cap off.
She plates eggs, bacon, and toast and sets it on the breakfast bar. “Come sit and have breakfast.”
I give a shake of my head. “I don’t have time.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You never have time,” she fires back, hands on her hips. “Look at you, skin and bones lately. You think you can run an empire on black coffee and that hideous stuff you always drink?” she waves her hands referring to my protein shakes.
“Sit down and eat something before you go off torturing people or whatever it is you do in that basement of yours.”
I open my mouth, but she keeps going, waving a spatula like a weapon.
“You barely touched dinner last night. You think I don’t notice? You need fuel. Now sit.”
I just watch her, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. Lea is the closest thing I have to family. The only person who still sees the kid behind the Don.
She slides the plate closer to me with a raised brow, daring me to argue.
I exhale through my nose. “Fine,” I mutter, dropping into the chair. “I’ll eat. Happy?” I mutter, stabbing a piece of egg.
Lea smiles, satisfied. “Ecstatic. Now eat. The world can wait five minutes while you remember you’re still human.”
I shake my head, but I eat.
“I already sent Daniel upstairs to bring your visitor down for breakfast.”
The second she says “visitor,” my fork pauses halfway to my mouth. Eleonora.
I don’t need her walking in here while I’m trying to choke down food and deal with Lea’s mothering.
I’ve barely slept. All night I kept replaying the balcony, how close I came to kissing her, how her breath hitched when I had her pressed against the stone, how badly I wanted to taste those lips of hers.
She’s been plaguing my thoughts like a fucking fever. I can’t even go an hour without her invading my thoughts. There’s something about her that’s both infuriating and strangely appealing. I can’t explain it and it pisses me off.
As if summoned, I hear footsteps and raise my head to find Eleonora walking into the kitchen.
And fuck me.
She’s wearing a white silk pajama set. The shorts are criminally short, riding high on those long, smooth thighs.
The matching button-up top is only halfway buttoned, the thin fabric gaping open just enough to reveal a generous hint of soft, creamy cleavage.
With every movement, her full breasts shift freely beneath the silk.
She’s been walking around my house like this? In front of my men? A dark, possessive irritation flares in my chest. The thought of Daniel or any of my soldiers seeing her like this enrages me.
Why the hell do I care? She’s my prisoner, yet the sight of her like this pisses me off. I’m going to rip the head off the idiot maid who picked out this pajama set. No one else should see her like this.
Her eyes find mine immediately. That familiar fire sparks in them the second she sees me.
“Good morning,” she says into the kitchen.
Lea turns with a bright smile. “Good morning, dear! Come sit. I made plenty.”
Eleonora doesn’t move. She just stares at me, arms folding across her chest, making her breasts press together in a way that tests every ounce of my control.
I grip my fork tighter. This woman is going to be the death of me.
Eleonora
I barely slept.
The night was a nightmare carousel I couldn’t get off. One moment I was watching Sienna and Domenico get dragged back by Papa’s men, the next Camilla was crying with a fresh bruise on her face while Papa screamed at her.
Then the dreams shifted… a dark-haired, whiskey-eyed, tattooed man had me pressed against the balcony again, only this time his mouth was on mine, his hands sliding under my clothes, doing filthy, unspeakable things that made me wake up flushed and aching.
I hate him for invading even my dreams.
I had just finished brushing my teeth, was splashing my face, trying to wash away the exhaustion, when a firm knock sounded on the door and Daniel walked in. He had introduced himself yesterday as my “personal security.” A nice way of saying glorified jailer.
“Good morning, Miss Caruso. You’re expected downstairs for breakfast.”
I could try begging him to help me escape. But one look at his loyal, steady eyes tells me he’d sooner die than betray Nico. So I don’t bother and follow him as he leads me to the kitchen instead of the dining room where I had dinner with Nico last night.
I’d expected to find Nico at the table, but what I didn’t expect is for him to be shirtless. And as I sit across from him trying to eat all the food piled on my plate, I can’t stop myself from staring.
I try to distract myself by taking in the kitchen. It smells incredible. Coffee, bacon, fresh bread, and something sweet like cinnamon. It’s surprisingly warm and homey for a mafia don’s mansion, unlike our kitchen at home.
Sunlight pours through large windows, gleaming off stainless steel appliances and dark wood cabinets.
I watch the older woman as she stands at the stove, stirring something in a pan. She looks like she’s in her late fifties or early sixties, short dark hair streaked with silver, wearing a simple black dress and a floral apron.
She has a no-nonsense but kind face, the type of woman who could scold you and hug you in the same breath. She must be the Lea Nico had mentioned last night.
I return my attention to my plate but my gaze drifts to Nico again, his chest and shoulders that are on full display.
Heat floods my face as memories of him pressing me against the balcony railing come flooding back, the scent of his skin, how close his mouth had come to mine.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as Lea adds more eggs to my plate with a kind smile. “Eat up, sweetheart. You look like you need it.”
Nico’s eyes meet mine and I glare daggers at the bastard, hoping he feels every bit of my hatred. He doesn’t even acknowledge me.
Instead, he stands, thanks Lea for breakfast in that low, respectful tone he apparently saves for everyone but me, and walks out of the kitchen without a single glance in my direction.
Arrogant beast.
I pick up my fork and start eating again, mostly to keep Lea happy while I study her. She moves around the kitchen with the confidence of someone who’s been here forever. Could she help me? Does she even know I’m a prisoner? Or does she think I’m just another guest Nico brought home?
I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to watch her carefully. Make sure she won’t run off reporting to Nico when I ask for her help.
I manage to finish most of what she gave me before I lean back, patting my stomach. “Thank you, I can’t eat another bite. I swear I’ll burst.”
She eyes me suspiciously but finally relents with a warm smile. “Alright, go on then. But make sure to come down for lunch.”
I thank her and slip out of the kitchen.
Daniel is in the hallway, deep in conversation with another guard. They’re both facing away from me. Not wanting to be locked up in my room again, I decide to slip away before any of them notices.
I move quietly in the opposite direction. I know I can’t make a run for it now, but I might as well explore the house. As I walk around, I memorize hallways, note exits, count doors. Eventually I find a wide staircase leading down. The lighting is dimmer down there, colder. A basement, maybe.
I know I should turn back, but I don’t. I descend the stairs slowly. The air grows heavier with each step I take. Then I hear it, a low, pained groan, followed by the sickening sound of flesh being struck.
I freeze for a second. I should go back upstairs right now. But curiosity wins and I keep going, my bare feet silent on the cold steps. The groans grow louder. Another brutal hit. A muffled cry.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and find the heavy metal door is ajar. Again, against my better judgement, I peer inside.
The sight hits me like a punch.
Nico is still shirtless, sweat glistening on his back and shoulders, muscles flexing with every movement. His tattoos look darker under the harsh basement lights. He’s pummeling a man who’s strung up by his wrists from a chain hanging from the ceiling.
The man’s face is already swollen and bloody. Every time Nico’s fist connects, the sound echoes wetly off the concrete walls.
Blood drips onto the floor. Nico’s breathing is controlled, powerful, almost rhythmic as he lands another vicious punch to the man’s ribs.
I can’t move. I can’t look away.
Horror and something darker twist inside my chest as I watch the dangerous, half-naked man who kissed my nightmares last night beat a man half to death without mercy.