CHAPTER 32
NINA MARCHESI
“What is this?” I ask as I step into Nero’s new apartment and find its familiar emptiness disturbed by a small round table set for two, candles lit, and low arrangements of red roses at the centre.
I inhale deeply, savouring the wonderful smell of food filling the space, and glance over my shoulder, searching for the blue gaze I’ve grown so fond of.
“You owe me a dinner, Little Fae,” he explains, nudging me gently aside so he can close the door behind us.
“Was this what you had planned for us? Last night?” I ask, guilt washing over me again for having left him waiting.
The confusion in my chest is still as alive as it was this morning, when I was woken by my mother’s argument with Nero. Except now, the feelings stirring it are different.
The confession from the man behind me sits at the centre of everything else. I think I love you. He said it as if it weren’t the most terrifying sentence in the world, and when I questioned him about it, his answer was that there was nothing to be done about it.
His exact words were: Actually, I’m sure, Little Fae. It’s a fact.
As if that weren’t enough, Nero laughed at my stunned expression, kissed my cheek, and said that if I wanted the kiss I’d been chasing earlier, I’d have to find him at his apartment tonight. I barely remember agreeing—too shocked—and yet, here we are.
“We can’t change what’s already passed, love.”
Oh. There it is. Since when does he call me love?
His laugh draws my attention back to his eyes.
“I don’t know which I enjoy more—your stunned face, or the way that word tastes in my mouth.
” He steps closer, circling his arms around my waist. “It’s delicious, Little Fae.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop saying it. ”
“Remember what I said about you making it very hard for me to keep feeling scared?”
“Mhm…” he murmurs, kissing my forehead.
“I was wrong,” I declare, and Nero laughs again.
“Let’s eat, love. Maybe you’re just hungry,” he says, winking at me.
***
“This is a really good bed,” I comment, nestling closer into Nero’s warm body. My eyelids are heavy, my body sunk into the lethargy that follows release.
“My assistant was truly incredible at choosing it,” he says, and I chuckle softly. “Maybe she should help me choose the rest of the décor too,” he adds casually—but by now, my alarmed brain is suspicious of everything Nero drops on me as if it’s no big deal.
I tilt my head back and open my eyes, already finding his gaze fixed on my face, a huge smile on his lips.
“What did you say?”
“Exactly what you heard.”
“You really need to stop saying things like that.”
“Or what?” he asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes that has nothing to do with sex.
I don’t answer. I simply curl back against his chest, ignoring the leaps my heart is taking. “I’ll take that as agreement. I’ll look up some design studios in Athens, and we can meet with the ones you like best next week.”
“Go to sleep, Nero,” I complain, trying to shut the topic down before emotional words leap out of my mouth before I’m ready for them. But he has other plans—of course he does. He always does.
“I don’t think I want to,” he says, shifting so his body hovers over mine, his legs straddling my hips. His cock rests against my stomach, and I steal a glance.
“Pervert,” Nero accuses when he notices where my eyes went.
“I thought we agreed you created a monster. The blame is entirely yours—but you’re spared another round. I’m sleepy. Last night wasn’t great.”
He clears his throat. “Sleeping next to Drako as an adult definitely doesn’t make my top ten favourite nights either.”
“Sleeping with Drako?”
“It’s a long story.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to decide whether curiosity or sleep will win. Neither does.
“Top ten favourite nights, huh?”
“All of them were with you,” he says, lowering his mouth to mine. I sigh, completely wrapped up in the pleasure of his touch, his presence, his words.
***
“You’re going to see interior designers?” my mother asks as I pack my bag.
Nero wasn’t joking. In one week, he showed up with a list of no fewer than ten interior designers’ portfolios for me to choose from—the ones whose style I liked best.
I refused, of course, but he really does know how to be persuasive. A shiver runs down my spine, and I feel terribly perverse for thinking about sex while my mother is standing right beside me.
“I’m just going along for company,” I explain, though I very much doubt Nero will allow me to remain a mere observer. He’s truly committed to making me feel extremely comfortable in his penthouse.
His exact words were: I want you to see this place as your second home. And there was, of course, a suggestion in his eyes I didn’t bother to interpret—too scared of what I might find there.
“That still sounds serious,” my mother says as I head down the stairs, her following close behind.
“It’s not.”
“Nina.”
She calls my name as she steps into the kitchen, and I open the fridge in search of a glass of water.
“Yes?” I glance at her over my shoulder.
“I don’t want to be annoying, my daughter.”
I blink and straighten my posture. I close the fridge, abandoning the water. “I just can’t help worrying. It’s only been a few weeks, and you were crying all night long.”
I sigh.
“That was as much my fault as Nero’s, Mom. I thought you were okay with him—with us. The dinner here was so much fun,” I say, because it really was.
After reconciling with me, Nero made a point of doing the same with my mother.
And although she told him that all he needed to do to stay on her list of good people was treat me well, I’m sure she loved the gesture.
Since everything began, it was the first time he came to our house officially—not just to pick me up or while my mother was away.
“It was. And I don’t doubt that you’re fine together. My concern now is that you’re moving too fast. It hasn’t even been six weeks since Christmas, and you’re seeing decorators together. I worry that tomorrow you’ll come home telling me you’re moving out.”
I throw my head back, laughing.
“For God’s sake, Mom!”
“It’s not that exaggerated from where I’m standing, Nina,” she insists.
I open the fridge again, take out a bottle, and set it on the kitchen table. I pour myself a glass of water and drink slowly, refilling it once I empty it.
“What do you need?” I ask, returning the bottle to the fridge. “A guarantee that won’t happen? Consider it given.”
“Oh, just like you guaranteed that whatever happened between you and Nero would be temporary?”
I open my mouth, then close it, thinking better of my answer.
“How did you fall in love with my father, Mom? Was it a fully conscious, calculated choice—or unexpected and overwhelming?”
“That’s a very low blow, Nina.”
“I’m just proving my point.”
“Are you telling me you’re in love with Nero?” she asks—and I widen my eyes as I realise I’ve just backed myself into a corner.
Oh. Shit.