Chapter 14 NICO
NICO
She walks straight into me.
For a second she just stares up, eyes wide, breath catching like she’s run into a ghost. The streetlight catches in her hair, gold threading through the dark strands, and my chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the cold night air.
“Nico?” Her voice carries a mix of surprise and something sharper. Her eyes narrow. “Are you following me?”
I don’t deny it.
Instead I glance toward the street where the black sedan just disappeared.
“The man who spoke to you,” I say. “Who is he?”
Her posture stiffens instantly. The shift is immediate. Defensive.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” she asks.
I hold her gaze.
“Yes.”
She lets out a short laugh that has no humor in it.
“Unbelievable.”
She crosses her arms, stepping back like she needs distance from me.
“You can’t have it both ways, Nico,” she says. “Either you’re in our lives or you’re out. And you already made it pretty clear which one you chose.”
The words land harder than they should.
I ignore that.
“The man,” I repeat. “Who is he?”
Her jaw tightens. For a moment I think she’s going to walk away.
Then she exhales sharply.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Just some guy. Russian, I think? Asked a lot of questions.”
“What questions?”
“About my job. My family.” Her eyes flash. “About whether I worked at clubs downtown.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
Of course, they did.
I keep my expression neutral, but the pieces are already locking into place in my head. Pavlov men. Testing boundaries. Pushing quietly before the real move begins.
And Izzy is already on their radar.
I step closer. “You’re not walking home alone anymore.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“You won’t take public transport. You won’t change Noah’s routine. And if anyone asks questions about you or your son, you call me.”
The authority in my voice comes out before I can soften it.
Her eyes flare.
“You don’t get to order me around.”
“I’m not asking.”
That only makes her angrier.
“And why exactly should I listen to you?” she demands. “You made it very clear that you want nothing to do with us.”
The accusation sits between us. Sharp, unfair.
And entirely my fault.
“Izzy—”
“No,” she cuts in. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and start acting like you run my life.”
She steps closer, eyes blazing now.
“You walked away, remember?”
I can feel my patience thinning.
“Who else spoke to you tonight?” I ask.
Her mouth opens in disbelief.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Izzy.”
She glares at me for another long moment before finally answering.
“Just him. Happy?”
No.
Not even close.
I scan the street again automatically, the instinct drilled into me years ago. Every parked car. Every shadow. Every movement.
When I look back at her, she’s watching me.
And she knows something is wrong.
“What is going on?” she asks.
I hesitate.
For a moment I consider telling her everything. About Pavlov. About the quiet moves being made across the city. About how men like that don’t ask harmless questions unless they’re preparing to use the answers.
But the second she knows, she’s part of it.
And I will not do that to her.
So I shake my head.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Her face hardens.
“Of course,” she says quietly. “Why would I be important enough to know?”
Something in me snaps.
“You are everything that matters.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Her eyes widen.
I step closer without thinking.
“You,” I say, my voice rough now. “And Noah. Nothing else comes close.”
The anger drains out of her face, replaced by something softer. More fragile.
Her eyes shine suddenly.
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then she whispers, “Then why did you leave?”
The question cuts deeper than anything else she’s said tonight.
My fists tighten again.
Because men like me ruin everything we touch.
“There’s a dark side to this world,” I say quietly. “And you don’t belong in it.”
Her brow furrows.
“I won’t drag you into it,” I continue. “I won’t be the one who taints you.”
For a second she just looks at me.
Then she shakes her head slightly, like she doesn’t believe a word of it.
And something in me gives.
I reach for her before I can stop myself.
My hand finds her jaw, tilting her face up.
Then I kiss her.
Hard.
All the things I’ve been holding back crash through the second my mouth touches hers.
She gasps against me, fingers clutching at my coat, and for one dangerous moment I almost forget the entire world around us.
She tastes exactly the same as she did seven years ago.
Exactly the same as she did last night.
I pull away abruptly before the moment goes too far.
Her lips are parted. Her breathing uneven. God, she’s so fucking beautiful like this.
But I force myself to step back.
“Leone will take you home,” I say.
Her confusion returns instantly.
“What?”
“I’m calling him now.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
She shakes her head, frustrated again.
“And what about you?”
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Nico—”
But I’m already stepping away.
If I stay another second, I won’t leave at all.
And that is exactly what my enemies are hoping for.
So I turn and walk down the street without looking back.
Behind me, I can feel her eyes on my back the entire way.