9. — gowns and goons. #2
Salvatore noticed Nico’s expression at the mention of press.
“You didn’t think you’d escape with just a few photos from us, did you?
She’s the stepdaughter of a supermodel and the blood of a well known made man.
That’s society fodder to half the people in the city.
I bet you’ll be on society rags by tomorrow morning.
Press always picks up around us when Carina stays in town for more than a few weeks. ”
Nico hadn’t really considered any of that. “We’re not hard launching a relationship or something here.”
“They’ll make of it what they want. I suppose what matters right now is what you’re making of it.
” Salvatore cleared his throat, waiting for Carina to be out of earshot as she shooed the cat away from the vehicles again before he turned his attention back to Nico. “I expect you’ll drive safe tonight.”
“Of course.”
“And be home before three.”
“Absolutely. I know the rules.”
“You know some of the rules,” Sal responded, seriousness clouding his features. “You didn’t ask this time; did you realize that?”
Nico’s brow dipped. “What do you mean?”
“The other day, you came into the house, found me in the kitchen, and told me you were going to take my daughter to her prom. You didn’t ask.”
“I asked her.”
Salvatore breathed deeply, his lips flattening into a line. “Yes, you did. That’s a fair point.”
“And to be clear, Carina called, so I just assumed.”
“What, that I already knew?”
“I mean, yeah.”
Salvatore’s chin bobbed once, but he didn’t look pleased about it. “I want to say that I’ve noticed things between you and her. Things that could be complicated, messy...interesting to others. A problem, even.”
Nico didn’t like where this was going, and his shifted stance said so without him needing to. “Why, because I am?”
The man continued as if Nico hadn’t said a thing, saying, “Like I said, I noticed things. Natural things, I suppose, given your ages and history. Someone told me to say something, do something, or let it be nothing.”
“I’m confused where this conversation is going, Sal.”
“Three things, Nico.”
Man, this guy loved handing things out in threes.
“What are they?”
“She always returns exactly the way she left. Happy. Safe. Whole. Always.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
Salvatore didn’t look away. “You tell me. Two—if you ever want a real problem with me, then look no further than my daughter. If there was ever a reason for her to come to me regarding you, I will be the last thing you ever see.”
Nico respected that.
More than Sal knew.
“I’d hope so,” he replied quietly. “And three?”
“What does consent mean to you, Nico?”
He had not expected that question.
“I think my history speaks for itself there.”
Salvatore shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. And you have twenty seconds to prove to me that you understand the word, or you don’t leave with my daughter.”
Nico swallowed the lump in throat, and his thoughts raced. “Uh—”
“Time’s ticking.”
“It means she calls the shots. Every time.”
Briefly, the other man’s gaze softened as it passed between his daughter in the background and Nico right in front of him.
“That’s right, just like her speaking ill your way will be the shot that goes straight from my gun into your brain.
And I promise, she won’t cry over it. She won’t even remember you existed when I’m done. Do you understand me?”
He did.
Nico still wondered... “So, are you saying something, doing something, or letting it be nothing?”
Salvatore sighed. “All three, I guess. Until one of you forces my hand.”
“How could we do that?”
“Do you think you won’t fall in love with my daughter?” Salvatore asked, laughing almost snidely. He stepped forward, passing Nico with a closing word on the subject. “Young man, I’d like to see you try. Please. You’re already halfway there but you’ve still got a lot of catching up to do, too.”
Nico turned slightly as Sal passed him, asking, “What do you mean?”
Salvatore paused, his head tilting toward Nico as he spoke even quieter than before. “Okay, here it is. You’re looking at the first and only man she knew loved her for her whole life. Still does. Always will. These are big fucking shoes to fill.”
“It’s just prom,” Nico muttered, trying to convince Sal just as much as himself. “I don’t even know if this counts as a date.”
Salvatore scoffed. “Unreal. Say it like you believe it next time, okay? And you still get to go through the hard parts yet. When she knows who you really are, where you’ve been and what you’ve done, who you want to be someday.
After, when that’s all out in a messy pile between you, and she stays because she wants to, because she wants you...
“Every single time you look at my daughter, just know I am the standard, Nico. The way she has been my entire life from her first breath, she will expect the same from you. As she should. So, from here on out where she’s concerned, I’m going to need you to behave accordingly.
Your next steps with my daughter are going to determine a lot for you.
Before you take one, consider them carefully.
Consider her. Consider you. Consider me. ”
“Sal, I—”
“Smile, kid. She’s watching. You make sure that’s all she ever sees between you and me. A fucking smile.”
···
Frankie twirled a circle beneath Nico’s extended arm to the track pumping out of the speakers.
The same song she had been dancing to the day he found her cleaning the Supra.
Her smile beamed even while her teeth found her bottom lip as she found herself close to him once again.
Eyes locked, the two moved in sync in a small circle.
“I love that you dance,” she told him.
He chuckled, his hands finding her neck so he could pull her in for a quick kiss to her forehead. “What kind of guy doesn’t dance?”
“Boring ones.”
He could barely make out the people around them in the strobing lights flickering beneath the sheer and silk tapestries billowing overhead. Somehow, he could also tell that same crowd gave the two of them their own berth of space.
Partly to watch, he thought.
Partly because Frankie and him...weren’t there with them. The two of them found something far better with each other. The rest of the room didn’t even have to exist. It barely played a part.
“So, what are we doing after this?” she asked him.
Nico hadn’t thought about it. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t your feet hurt?”
“Lidocaine spray,” she informed, winking. “Carina’s trick.”
“Carina is a bad influence. Pain tells you when to back off.”
“Beauty is pain, Nico.”
No, he disagreed entirely.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And you’re just perfect. With or without the shoes.”
His arm slid across her back, and before she could argue, he had her picked up in a cradle hold.
She laughed as he walked her off the floor to the closest chair he could find to plop her down.
Kneeling, he untied the cords of pink leather twisting up her exposed calves.
Silken warmth kissed his fingertips every time he touched her skin.
One heel hit the floor, and he moved onto the other.
He tried not to notice.
He tried to consider—
“They don’t hurt!” She playfully kicked at him, but he easily dodged it. “Do you know how much shorter I’m going to be now?”
“You don’t know that they hurt. That’s the problem.”
“Well—”
He glanced up, his sharp eyes silencing her instantly. “Well, nothing.”
Her lips pressed together, all but forcing out the word, “Fine.”
Nico resisted the sudden urge to slide his hand higher on her leg as his other pulled off the heel.
He could smell the way her perfume had deepened to a honeyed vanilla scent with the heat of her body from dancing.
He bet she knew all the spots to dab that scent, like the backs of her knees and under her ears.
It was driving him crazy because he kept thinking about finding all those spots with his mouth.
Her father had been right.
He was fucked. So totally fucked.
“Drinks?”
Nico stood from the floor, moving Frankie’s heels under a nearby table as she took a drink from an offered tray by a passing server.
He refused. She practically downed the flute in one go.
The bitter pull of her face after she did so had him reaching for the glass to take a sniff of what remained at the bottom.
“The fuck,” he muttered, stunned, “there’s liquor in this?”
“I think someone’s spiking it.”
He put the flute to the table and pulled her up from the chair. She immediately began pulling him back toward the dance floor. “I can tell you what you’re not doing after this now.”
“Huh?”
Her cute little blink over her shoulder made him want to kiss her. Somehow, he stopped himself to say instead, “Well, you’re not driving home. Larkin took my car back, so I guess I get to drive the Rolls tonight after all.”
Her nose scrunched up, and she pouted. “It’s two drinks, Nico.”
“Fight me,” he murmured, mostly joking.
She would not be getting those keys and he was the only one between them with pockets.
A popular male singer filtered through the room, then, crooning about losing control to a woman he loved. He recognized the song immediately. Next to the kind of dance music someone would hear at a rave, a soulful jazz or something similar was Nico’s next best choice.
“Come here,” he told Frankie as he pulled her close with one arm and wove their fingers together with his other.
Her fingers found his jaw with the softest touch, and those heart-shaped lips of hers caught his attention with their soft pink gleam under the lights.
He pulled her closer still, practically flattening her body against his as she lifted on her tiptoes like she was trying to taunt him.
“That’s how you dance to something like this. ”
“Is it?”
“It’s how I do.”
All he saw was her, then. Her and her mouth, and those dark eyes that matched a man Nico could only hope to be. Maybe he didn’t measure up; maybe he couldn’t.
“Are you ever gonna do it?” she asked him.
Nico wet his lips. “Do what?”
“Kiss me.”