Chapter 11 – Nico
How was it possible not to notice her? The dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion written in purple and deep bruises were a fitting disguise.
But as I studied Rae bringing in the plates behind her uncle, they seemed at odds with the energy radiating from her body.
The light in her hazel eyes sparkled and snapped.
We shared a quick look as she set the food in front of me, her gloved fingers twisting the plate to the correct angle.
I wanted to rip the white cotton from her fingertips. With my teeth. Before I spent the next several hours studying the ink that marked her skin.
She’s stunning.
My little thief, hiding right under my nose.
To think, if I hadn’t stopped to chat with Angelo, I might not have discovered her. I’d been on my way to Luna Luce, needing some space after the tiresome family dinner, when AJ slipped into the conversation that one of the maids—the newest one—had a 1969 Yenko Camaro. I had to see it.
And then…the mystery solved itself.
My little thief was the owner.
That was the only reason I found myself telling my grandmother that I would stay for supper, much to her delight. Business could wait. There wasn’t anything as pressing as sitting here, watching this woman who’d hidden in plain sight.
Rae disappeared and returned with a silver pitcher to top off the water glasses.
While she filled Arabella’s, I stole a moment to chug my own.
From across the table, one dark brow arched slightly as I set my crystal glass down.
Empty and waiting. Her lips twitched, but she took her sweet time coming around to my side.
Gone was the artfully applied makeup. Her ears were missing the rough sparkle of metal. The wild mess of hair was imprisoned on the top of her head, caged by that ridiculous white cap that my grandmother thought was the only thing appropriate for staff to wear.
Leaning over to pour the water, her scent whispered over me. Some vibrant flower mixed with coconut. Heady and decadent. I inched my thigh over to rub against hers. The slight pressure was an instant hit of pleasure.
Rae jerked back. Water splashed from the pitcher.
On the other end of the room, the butler hissed.
I shot him a dark look.
Her uncle had seemed ancient when I was a child, and he was still here, unaged and old. I didn’t fear him. Something he knew. His eyes narrowed. I lifted my napkin and blotted the water.
“No harm,” I murmured.
Rae huffed. Huffed!
The annoyed sound was an instant shot to my groin. I realized I liked getting under her skin. I studied her while seemingly invested in the chicken and braised vegetable medley.
“Zacharia Carraway is hosting a party Thursday night,” my grandmother droned. “It’s his daughter’s nineteenth birthday. You have your dress ordered?”
Arabella hummed politely. “I’ll pick it up on Wednesday.”
“I hope they don’t need to take out the waistline,” Nonna tsked. “You’ve not been careful with your weight, Arabella.”
I frowned, but the don’s ward dropped her gaze.
“I’ve been careful, godmother.”
I stabbed a Brussel sprout with more force than necessary. It wasn’t unusual that my bird-thin grandmother made comments. Once upon a time, to my mother of all people. But hearing them now was a brutal shock.
How dare she.
“You have a new suit, caro?” My grandmother turned to me.
“I wasn’t invited.” I flicked a carrot to the side, forcing it to join the pile of burnt orange.
“What? You’re not coming!”
I should not have stayed for supper. “Nonna, I’m very busy. There are a lot of things I need to catch up on—”
“He’ll be there,” my grandfather said from behind the black and white sheet.
I glared at the newspaper. “With all due respect—”
“Oh, it’s just a silly party, godfather,” Arabella said, rushing to my defense.
My fingers tightened around the fork. What the sweet summer child needed to learn was that I fought my own battles.
The top of the evening news bent, and my grandfather looked over it, condescension written on his face. “Carraway is an old friend. We go as a group.”
The don’s order was an end to the discussion.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
“The last time I was at his house, Luigi and I swam naked in his pool.” I dropped the fork and steepled my hands. “Since then, I’ve been forbidden from the premises.”
Arabella gasped.
From the side of the room, another small huff that could have been a laugh whispered. I fought the urge to look her way, but I was dying to see what was written on Rae’s face.
“That was when you were a boy,” my grandfather growled. “I would hope that you’ve outgrown those antics by now, or I’ve seriously misplaced my judgement of you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe my suit will catch fire on one of those tapers Mrs. Carraway insists on lighting, and I’ll have no choice but to swim.”
“See that it doesn’t.” My grandfather flicked the paper straight. “And Luigi isn’t coming.”
The distasteful way he spoke my friend’s name tinged my vision with red. I shoved my plate back.
“Dominico, you’ve hardly eaten,” my grandmother protested. “Do you not like the chicken?”
“I have a phone call,” I muttered. Because it was either leave now or launch my wine glass through the perfectly creased newspaper. It would be a safe bet that the butler still ironed the paper before presenting it to my grandfather. And it would be a waste to undo his hard work.
“There’s dessert,” Arabella hedged.
Taking a deep breath so as not to snap at her, I counted to ten in my head.
Gloved hands reached for my plate. “It’s some vanilla cake. Franky baked it when he heard you were staying.”
Those words, whispered in my ear, eased the knot in my belly.
“On second thought, I’d love something sweet.” I flicked a glance up at Rae. “Bring dessert to the green room?”
One of her dark brows twitched. It was the smallest movement. A question to my order.
“Please,” I tacked on.
“Nonsense, we’ll have it in the parlor,” Grandmother responded.
“I’m not one of your fancy guests, Nonna. The green room is far more comfortable.” I added a cheeky smile, knowing she would do anything I asked.
“Oh, fine, very well. Mr. Romano? Prepare the espresso.” My grandmother continued eating after she gave the instructions to the butler.
I shot out of my chair and hurried to the door after Rae’s retreating form. That uniform might be something from the 1800s, but it didn’t hide the vision of her curves.
She must have felt me watching, because she stopped to let me pass. As I did, she hissed under her breath, “Boys who don’t eat their veggies shouldn’t have dessert.”
I snorted. Was she seriously scolding me right now? The look in her eye sent another rush of heat south.
“Carrots aren’t veggies. Look it up,” I whispered.
Rae smirked.
Maybe I wouldn’t run away just yet.
Arabella intercepted me as I left the dining room. “Would you like me to start a fire in the green room, Dominico? It makes it cozy in there.”
Cristo santo, did she have to try so hard? My collar was suddenly tight, and I hooked a finger in it, popping the button as I freed the material from my throat.
“Don’t go to any trouble.”
Her face fell.
I wanted to kick myself. She was as much trapped in this as I was. I didn’t have to go wounding her.
Unclenching my fist, I held my hand up. “Wait, Arabella. Cazzo, I’m sorry.” I sucked in a breath. “A fire sounds lovely, but…we need to talk.”
Arabella shot a glance back to the dining room then nodded.
“This—” I gestured between us “—is never happening. I won’t marry you.”
Relief softened the pinched expression around her eyes. “Grazie a dio,” she breathed.
I jerked slightly. “You aren’t…upset?”
Arabella shook her head, dark hair clouding around her face. “The only reason I’m nice to you is so that the signora doesn’t bite my head off. But no, I don’t have secret feelings for you.”
“Ouch.” I laughed roughly. “You wouldn’t be nice to me?”
“I don’t know you!” she breathed. “You left when I was still with my parents, and I’ve spent the last few years hearing how wonderful a husband you’ll make. I’m not impressed.”
I snorted. “Well, don’t worry. You won’t have to find out.”
Arabella pursed her lips. “How are you getting us out of it?”
“Not sure yet, but don’t let it keep you up at night.”
“Thanks.” She grinned. “Now! Don’t you have a phone call?”
I left quickly, but not before seeing the look of relief lighten her features. She was just a product of my grandparents’ tutelage. The perfect mafia princess. Delicate and pure.
But maybe not wholly unprepared for the shitstorm that was this life.
It was funny to think that she probably grasped better than my grandparents what was happening.
There was no time to mess around with parties.
This madness had to end. They needed to wake the fuck up.
My grandfather needed to retire before he sank us all.
But how did I take down the don without it being an act of treason?
Maybe it was time to call my mother. Her brother, the don of New York, might be very interested to know how things stand here.
Walking fast down a back hall, I turned a corner and then another. Phone in hand, I sent my mother a text message, asking if she would be available for a call later tonight.
Her response came a moment later.
Mama: Call when you can, caro.
I smiled.
I hadn’t been able to see her yet. Perhaps a short trip to the Hamptons would be possible one of these weekends. Swiping a hand over my face, I tried to formulate a plan to make that happen—
And nearly ran into a willowy object.
Gloved hands reached for me for balance. I caught them, holding them tightly.
Magnolia struggled. “Let me go! Someone will see us.”
“You shouldn’t walk these halls alone,” I murmured. “You never know what kind of monsters live here.”
Her chin lifted in defiance. “You?”
Where had this stunning creature come from? The way her fiery gaze pierced me was stronger than any shot of whiskey. And her mouth?
Dio sacro, that mouth.
“Me most of all,” I rasped.