11. Nico
NICO
I have never wanted to kill a man as much as I want to kill the one with his fingers around my wife's wrist.
Red clouds my vision as I yank him up by the collar and slam him into the wall. A framed picture clatters from the wall. The entire place freezes all at once as eyes turn towards us.
But I don’t notice a fucking thing as my fist cocks back and connects with the cop’s face.
"You dare put your fucking hands on my wife?" The words explode from deep inside as I slam my fist into his face with every word. "You dare to fucking touch her?"
He claws at my forearm as my hand tightens around his throat.
His face turns red, then purple, and then blue as he struggles to breathe.
I refuse to let go. Blood splatters my fingers.
Bone crunches with every blow. The smug shine in his eyes goes glassy and wet.
His heels start scraping the floor for purchase they won't get.
"Nico!" Lydia's voice breaks across the room, screaming. "Stop it! Please. You'll kill him."
“That’s the fucking idea.” My fist connects with his face again.
"Nico, please!" Her hand closes on my arm, trembling, and it buys the bastard enough room to wrench free from my grip.
He folds down the wall to the floor, sucking air in long ugly heaves. Lydia’s green eyes meet mine and work their way into my chest as a deathly stillness settles all around us.
My heart drums in my ear. Boom-doom. Boom-doom. Slowly, I unclench my fist and glare down at the cop.
"Touch her again," I tell him, "and nothing will stop me from finishing the job."
He wipes the blood from his broken nose, gets a hand under himself, and pushes himself up the wall. But there’s a smile working its way back up on his face already. He straightens his cap, and looks at me in triumph.
"You have no idea what you just started, son." He drags his gaze off me towards Lydia standing behind me with her hands hugging herself. "I’ll see you later, Lyddie."
Before either of us can react, he shoulders past me. The restaurant remains silent for a moment, and that’s when I see the phones rising up all around me.
Fuck.
Anastasio approaches and hands me a napkin for me to wipe off the blood from my knuckles.
His jaw is tight as he leans into my ear. "You just fucking strangled a cop in the middle of Soho in front of forty people."
"He had it coming," I snarl.
"Not the problem, boss." He flicks a look at the door the man left through. "We need to go. Now."
But I’m no longer listening to him. My attention is completely focused on Lydia.
She's still hugging herself. And although her chin is still up, there’s nothing that can hide the shaken blank stare in her eyes.
I’m clenching my jaw so fucking hard that I’m going to break my teeth at this rate.
I cross over to her and loop my arm protectively behind her back. "We're leaving, piccola," I say.
She doesn't argue this time, and gives me a small nod. My hand stays against the small of her back as I walk her out past the staring room and to the car.
As soon as we get into the car, my hand grips her chin to turn her jaw towards me. I have wanted to own this woman– to ruin her, mark her, and keep her–since the first time I ever laid eyes on her.
But never before have I thought that my touch might be as soft and gentle as it is right now, even with adrenaline still coursing through my body.
This is new.
There’s an angry red mark on her face from where the man’s hand had touched her. By tomorrow morning, it’ll turn into a nasty bruise.
“Who the fuck was that?” I ask quietly.
She tries to turn away, but I refuse to let her. “None of your business.”
“He dared to touch you.” I lean in. “In public. I had to do something.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that, Nico,” she snaps. “I’m aware of how fucking fond you are of reminding me and the whole damn world about how you fucking own me.”
“He hurt you.”
Her defiance sharpens. “Don’t pretend like he’s the only one.”
“Don’t you ever compare him to me.” My anger starts boiling again, and my grip on her chin tightens just enough.
“Why shouldn’t I?” She doesn’t back down. “Don’t you think you’re doing the same damn thing that he was doing? I don’t belong to you any more than I belong to him!”
Make it easier for her to wear the crown. But right now, I’m too fucking furious to do that.
“That’s where you’re wrong, piccola.” I reach down, grab her left hand, and raise it up in front of her face. “This ring tells the fucking world that you belong to me. And when you belong to me, I’ll burn this whole world down if anyone dares to come too close to you.”
I lean in until her green eyes are the only things I can see.
“Now tell me who he is.”
To her credit, she still doesn’t back down. She juts her jaw out and whispers a single syllable. “No.”
“Are you defying me, wife?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I guess I am.”
“Good.” My lips curl and I lean close enough that our noses are practically touching. “Because if you weren’t defying me, I’d almost feel bad about what I’m about to do.”