15. — knowing when.
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Staten Island, New York
Nico, Gallo Estate
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Nico hadn’t kept track of how much time passed since he last saw his brother, but their final disastrous dinner happened shortly before he left for Miami. It didn’t take more than a look between the two for Nico to know not a damn thing had changed with Marco, either.
A movement in the corner of his eye drew Nico’s attention. Frankie peeked around the corner again. Nico’s head ticked sideways, a silent order for her to leave. She disappeared behind the wall, and hopefully, stayed gone.
Marco caught the exchange.
“She’s really grown up, huh?”
“She is nothing to you,” Nico said.
Marco snickered. “Ten minutes, I bet. Just her and I, and ten minutes.”
“That girl wouldn’t let you within two feet.”
“Nobody said anything about letting me, Nicky.”
Oh, that hit close to home. Nico’s molars crunched audibly. “Does Dad know you still let Anthony get that ass?”
His shot hit its mark perfectly. Marco’s tattooed jaw tightened and flexed. “I see being taken on as Salvatore’s pet project has been working out for you, little brother.”
Nico stared Marco down, refusing to bite onto a chain he couldn’t properly deal with now. Actions had consequences, after all.
“Guests aren’t allowed past the ropes, Marco.”
“Oh, I know. And like the pets, I bet you get to go anywhere you want, right?”
His own jaw ached from clenching.
Marco flashed his white teeth in a sharp smile. “Her bedroom is cute.”
Nico jerked forward. His brother didn’t flinch.
“Shit, you got it that bad, Nicky? Anthony was really onto something when he said someone must have had you caught up, if you answered the door looking like you did. He heard her, too, you know.”
Nico wouldn’t bite onto any of that, either.
Marco just liked games.
“What the fuck do you want?” Nico demanded.
Marco wet his lips, rolling his eyes while he tilted his head sideways, toward the sound of the party. “Dad’s leaving. He wants to see you.”
“I’m sure he didn’t fucking send you to find me, either, did he?”
“No, I just had the time. Bored, and all. Happened to hear, and then just be in the neighborhood. Now, I’m passing along the message.”
“Watching me all fucking night, I bet. Just like the first time they found us in a bathroom, right?”
Marco looked so satisfied with himself that it made Nico sick to his stomach. That on top of knowing his brother had been outside the bathroom for God knew how long made him want to puke on the goddamn spot.
Or shove his fist down Marco’s throat. One or the other. He wasn’t picky.
“You gotta keep an eye on your problems,” Marco eventually replied, “or they tend to get away from you. Think about it.”
“I’m looking at my biggest one,” Nico returned.
“Same. So, Dad?”
At that, Marco looked straight ahead into the bathroom. That fox-like smile of his curved dangerously at his mouth again.
“After you clean up, I mean,” Marco added.
It didn’t matter that his brother had three or so inches of height and an added fifty pounds of muscle to broader shoulders than Nico’s—genetics the asshole took from their father—because he’d never been afraid to step up to him.
Not after the first time he finally hit his brother back and learned why Marco did it to him at the same time.
That shit felt good.
Nico stepped up to him then, too, driving two fingers into Marco’s chest like the fucking gun he didn’t have on him. Probably a good thing, given his suddenly murderous mood. It didn’t matter. Those fists of his could still feel like fucking bullets if he wanted them to.
Marco hated that smoke.
“Do it,” Marco taunted.
He breathed deep, his mind racing.
“Do. It.”
Nico thought about Frankie, and how humiliated she would be if her lapse in judgement with him became public consumption because he punched this motherfucker’s face in. He considered Salvatore and the man’s rules that Nico did his best to follow because they had a purpose, too.
He didn’t want to let people down again. Especially those people.
Actions had consequences; he needed to accept them before he made the choice.
“Just fucking do it,” Marco urged stronger.
Nico exhaled harshly and drove his fingers into Marco one last time. “Fuck you.”
Marco blinked at that, and his sudden disorientation gave Nico the chance to spin on his heel.
He slipped back into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.
It took him less than a minute to wipe the floor, shove the small towel and Frankie’s thong into the laundry chute.
He washed his hands, rolling down his sleeve and tossing on his suit jacket without buttoning it up.
Back in the hallway, Marco still waited.
Now, he didn’t smile, smirk, or grin.
Nico took some comfort in the sight.
“Best hurry up,” Marco murmured, “you know Dad hates to wait.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
He brushed past his brother, hating how Marco stayed on his heels because one shouldn’t put their back to an enemy. He also had far too much pride to let this asshole lead the way for him in any regard. Ever.
“Does Salvatore know you like to be wrist-deep in his daughter, or is that a secret I should keep?” Marco questioned like it was nothing.
Nico had been taking the steps to the downstairs two at a time, but his body turned before his mind had even fully processed the decision. Marco hadn’t been expecting it, nor the way Nico shoved him so hard that he tripped backwards and slammed down into the stairs.
Marco’s head snapped back hard, and he swore under his breath, reaching for his skull. His dark eyes blazed up at Nico in disbelief.
“Keep her name out of your mouth, that’s your last warning,” Nico said, pointing down at his brother.
He didn’t wait to see how Marco chose to deal with the threat. He turned back around and continued his jog down the steps. Taking a left at the bottom, he could see the people milling around the mouth of the corridor where a red satin rope hung across.
Marco stayed three steps behind the whole time.
“Just you fucking wait,” his brother threatened.
Chances were, Marco would calm down when the two both stood in the presence of their father. He got hit by Giorgio just like Nico, even if Nico took it more. Both were intimately familiar with exactly what happened when they displeased the man.
Weaving in and out of people, Nico headed through the throng until he neared the front of the house.
If his father intended to leave, that’s where he’d be.
He planned to make that goodbye as quick and painless as possible.
His only motive for communicating with his father for the foreseeable future boiled down to having access to Carmen.
Sure enough, the crowd waited at two black SUVs. Both running.
Salvatore shot Nico a look as he quickly took the front steps down to the waiting men. Only Matty, his father’s personal enforcer, stood outside the vehicle. The other men who had arrived earlier to protect their boss and his family already sat inside the vehicles, waiting.
“Where have you been?” Giorgio demanded.
“Around,” Nico replied. “Marco said—”
“Marco found you?” Salvatore interjected.
“Playing in bathrooms with girls again,” Marco informed, his gaze cutting to Nico as he tried to stroll right on past. “At least, he’s consistent about the girl.”
He just said it like that and kept on walking.
“What?” two men asked at the same time.
“Tell ‘em, little brother.”
He fucking warned him. Bring on those consequences.
Nico blew up. All the way apart.
His first punch nailed Marco right in the side of the head.
He didn’t even see the people he had to jump through to do it.
The way his knuckles split at the force of the first crack of bone against bone seared pain straight into his palm and wrist, but that didn’t stop him from doing it again.
He hammered his brother another three times, between his face and head, before Marco hit the ground and three people rushed in to pull him off.
Marco laughed while others shouted. Bleeding, he laughed at Nico. It only pissed him off more.
He’d have killed him right then and there. In front of all those people, his own damn father, and God. Nico would murder him if he said one more thing about Frankie or even brought up the suggestion of her.
“Talk about her again!” Nico hurled at Marco. “I’ll fucking kill you—do it again!”
Salvatore tried to say something to him, holding back his right. He couldn’t hear the man through the red in his vision and the blood pumping in his head. Giorgio, at his left, yanking on him as well, slapped his son hard. Nico was used to that kind of thing from his father; he didn’t even react.
It was only Matty, who grabbed Nico into a chokehold, that finally got him somewhat under control. Mostly because the man squeezed his arm so tight that black spots clouded Nico’s vision.
“Jesus Christ, relax, kid,” Matty huffed at his back.
He still got one last kick into Marco.
“Nico, that’s enough!” his father roared.
His ears rang.
Then, to Marco, Giorgio ordered, “You better get the fuck out of my face. I don’t know what shit you just pulled, but I’ve seen about enough from you as well tonight. We all know you’re not innocent.”
Each word from their father had been forced through clenched teeth. Spitting blood Nico’s way, Marco pushed himself up from the ground. Nico’s stare didn’t waver from Marco until the asshole climbed in the back of the SUV, and the vehicle immediately pulled off.
Only then could he breathe. Could he think. Could he even care.
All at once, he became acutely aware of the situation around him. The many eyes watching the scene unfold. Whispers and curses floated about the driveway like bubbles drifting overhead in the wind before bursting right over top of his head, raining down like acid on his skin.
Matty let him go.
Giorgio used that to his advantage.
Nico’s back slammed into the side of the SUV from the force of his father’s hand finding his throat. The man held him there, hitting him again with a sharp open hand that stung a little more the second time around.