24. — don’t touch.
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Staten Island, New York
Nico, Gallo Estate
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The gentle taps of Nico’s fingertips against the blood red tulle covering Frankie’s twenty-five-week swell matched the tune pumping out of the black Suburban.
One of two, running and ready. Larkin sat in one, not playing the music, and another driver chosen by Salvatore sat in the one that would take Frankie and Nico to his father’s holiday party.
Frankie’s hips moved side to side slightly along with the beat, but it was the eventual kicks that found Nico’s taps that had his grin blowing wide as he glanced up at her. It never failed with his kid, that boy knew...
Already Daddy’s boy.
“See,” he said, “he’s dancing.”
She laughed. “Or playing soccer.”
“It could be both.”
The song ended, changing to something he wouldn’t personally dance to.
Frankie lowered the volume coming through the Bluetooth using her phone as Nico lifted the first layer of flowy tulle to get better access to her stomach.
One couldn’t see how she’d grown with their child under the red gown made up of layers that fell wider and wider from her upper waist, straight down to the floor.
A beautiful distraction.
The lowcut chest, and exposed shoulders where loose sleeves fell over her glowing skin only added to the spectacle of youth and beauty.
A black cherry smoky eye look, and deep red lip framed her delicate features.
He’d been surprised to find her walking down the stairs earlier in very short heels, less than an inch high, and no jewelry except for the engagement ring that no one ever asked her to take off.
Tonight was the night. Everybody would know...well, about the engagement, anyway. The baby had to wait.
Nico pressed a kiss to the top of her belly.
Baby boy hadn’t turned yet, so that was his head. As far as Nico knew, thanks to an ultrasound two weeks earlier that also confirmed the gender they both suspected.
“We’ll get back to that later, little man,” he told her stomach.
Frankie stared down at him. “I still like Nicky.”
“No.”
“Come on, wouldn’t it be so sweet to retake that name for yourself? How could you not love it when it’s your son’s? Your first son?”
Nico sighed, rubbing the side of his face against his baby. “And then he always gets to be Little Nicky for the rest of his life? No way. He’s not carrying that on. He gets to be whoever he wants to be.”
She used the tip of a pointed fingernail to stroke along the edge of his face. “What’s the one you like again?”
“Like you don’t remember.”
She grinned. “I just like hearing you say it.”
“Damiano.”
It rolled off his tongue smoothly.
Dah-me-awn-oh.
“That’s what I’ve been calling him when you sleep.”
Her hand swatted at him playfully at the confession. “Nico!”
He just grinned up at her all over again.
“Damiano Nicky Russo.”
Frankie let out a soft sigh. “Okay.”
Her fingers found his hair to tangle in and scratch gently at his scalp. That helped the tension crawling over his shoulders and settling deep into his gut.
“You’re not worried for tonight, are you?”
“Completely.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” he said, standing then. Keeping one hand on his child, he used the other to catch her chin between his pointer finger and thumb.
Tipping his head down, he caught her painted lips in a kiss and then let her wipe whatever red it left behind on his away with her thumb.
He caught her hand and kissed her fresh, red manicure, too. “Better?”
“It gives you just enough color.”
He licked his lips, hoping to take the rest of the lipstick away that remained. But he trusted her, to tell him the truth, anyway. Maybe he needed the color. Tonight had him in knots.
“Hey,” Frankie said like his thoughts were a running closed caption playing above his head, “haven’t we gone over this?”
He nodded. They had.
“Dinners have been going well. You see Carmen twice a week. Giorgio likes that you’re making good money and minding your business. Marco barely shows up when you go for dinner now.”
“Because he can’t stand when Dad likes me, or that I’m doing better than him in any way.”
“Unimportant,” she replied, winking. “What is, is that things have been going well. He’s not going to freak out when he finds out we’re engaged tonight. And if he does, then you can handle it.”
“You think I can handle it.”
“No. I know it, Nico.”
His thumb tapped a beat to her stomach. A breath later, little man kicked down lower in response to the stimulant and sound.
He had to handle it. The baby between them said so.
“Just trust,” Nico told her, “that Marco will be on his worst behavior tonight. I don’t have the first clue how he could do worse than he already has, but trust that he will.
I’m not leaving your side unless I have to, so don’t take off the first second I turn.
If your hand is not in mine, then mine needs to be somewhere on your body. Got it?”
She smoothed down the lapels of his tuxedo as he talked and then ran her hands on the inside of the jacket along his chest, the red of her nails fading into the same color of his vest and bowtie.
“You look so damn good in formalwear,” she informed. “Unbelievable.”
“Frankie.”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard you, hand in mine or on me. That’s the deal.”
“I call the shots tonight.”
“I mean...”
“At the party,” he clarified. “You get all the rest you want later.”
“Mmhmm, sounds about right.”
He rolled his eyes, smirking. Her hands kept touching.
“They’re watching you,” he said of the men in the cars.
She didn’t look like she cared.
“If we can leave early,” she said then, biting at the edge of her lip as she met his knowing gaze, “I’m just saying—we should.”
He only needed a glance at Frankie to agree to that statement. He had plans for her and that dress once he got her alone and safe again. A plan he fully intended to see through as long as the night went ahead as it should.
“You know it,” he murmured before kissing her again.
The beep of the door between the house and the garage sounded, making Nico pull away just in time for Salvatore to enter the space.
No one followed him. Also, part of the plan.
Only one of them could hide their pregnancy at the moment. Carina neared the final weeks of her pregnancy, and she decided the month before to step out of public life entirely. As far as others knew, including Nico’s father, Carina had headed to Milan for the holidays as she always did.
“Carina wishes us luck,” Salvatore said as he crossed the glossy floor. “And she said to let the dress—”
“Do all the work for me,” Frankie interjected, nodding. “I know, Daddy. I got this.”
Nico kissed the spot beneath Frankie’s ear, combing the waves of hair back behind her shoulder. “The dress is a distraction, but you do the rest.”
Every bit of it. “So beautiful; all mine,” he added.
Frankie’s cheeks pinked sweetly when he pulled away. “Don’t do that too much tonight, okay?”
“Do what?”
“You know what.”
“Oh, I think he will,” Salvatore said, coming to stand in front of the Suburban. “You get to be entirely his for the night. No lying needed.” His gaze dropped to her midsection. “Mostly.”
Nico looked forward to it.
The best thing he’d ever done would stand at his side for everyone to see, and he dared anybody to try and take it away from him now. He had one word for someone in the mood to try him and learn it: homicide.
“Okay,” Salvatore said, clapping his hands, “let’s hit the road. Frankie, get in the vehicle and turn that racket off. I need to speak with Nico.”
“Did you just call my music a racket?”
“Well—”
She served him a deadly side-eye as she headed past him for the SUV. “Whatever you say, old man.”
Nico pressed his lips together.
Salvatore just cleared his throat, waiting for the slam of the Suburban’s rear passenger door. A second later, the music quieted as well.
“Well, there’s that,” Salvatore muttered unhappily, “that finally happened.”
“She didn’t mean it, she’s preg—”
“Oh, she meant it. And it is a fucking racket. A lot of the crap you two blast day in and day out gives me a headache on a regular basis.”
“On the regular,” Nico corrected. “If you say it that way, she won’t call you that thing you don’t like.”
Salvatore scowled.
Nico tapped his temple and pointed at Sal. “When you know, you know.”
“Behave tonight, kid.”
Serious at once, Nico nodded. “Of course.”
“And don’t let Marco bait you.”
“He hasn’t been able to in months.”
“Good, because he’ll test you a lot tonight. He’ll have plenty of reasons.”
“I know, and I’ve got a whole list of my own to let it slide right off. Don’t worry.”
The man dragged in a heavy breath, glancing over his shoulder to eye the two waiting vehicles.
As his attention came back to Nico, his voice lowered significantly.
Not that it mattered, but the people inside probably couldn’t hear them anyway and cameras didn’t exist inside the many buildings on the estate. Only the outside property.
“I have to tell you something now, Nico.”
He just waited Sal out. Whatever it was.
Salvator swallowed hard, lifting his gaze from the floor to meet Nico’s.
“It’s been in the works for months. This plan of mine.
It’ll happen after Christmas. The only reason I’m telling you this is because you’ve played an important part in getting us to this point considering you’ve done everything I asked when I asked you to do it.
You brought me information without being asked; you’ve done everything that was asked.
I know who I can trust, and exactly why I can trust them.
History taught me well. I’m going to kill your father. ”
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Unlike when the Gallos threw a party, Giorgio did not stand for the first couple of hours at the entry of his home welcoming guests.
No, he rested at the head of an ostentatiously large table in the dining hall just beyond the entry to the grand foyer.
That way, the guests walked through the decorated entry and hallway leading to the boss and his waiting family where he wanted to be greeted.