Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NICO
My brother had his tongue down his wife’s throat.
Across the street, a man walking his dog had stopped to gawk.
Knowing Enzo, that would be why he did it.
He got off on staking his claim. Doing it publicly was an added benefit.
I had half a mind to close my front door on his face because a hint of jealousy had brought a sour taste to my mouth.
I washed it down with the dry tone of my voice.
“Why bother with dinner when you can have tongue?”
Daria squeaked, pulling apart from Enzo, her face red as she struggled to tug her dress down while muttering under her breath, “We didn’t even ring the bell.”
Enzo’s lips twitched with amusement. He pulled her back into his arms and placed his palm on her hip. “Nico’s married to his cameras, principessa. He sees everything.”
My slight amusement melted away. If only he knew.
The rumbling purr of a caged animal rolled down the street. The raw performance of Stefano’s Harley-Davidson V-Rod growled low before dying out. My tiresome brother swung off the low back and swaggered toward us, mischief playing in his gaze.
Daria escaped Enzo’s grasp and rushed to her favorite brother-in-law.
He swung her in his arms as if it were the arrival section of an airport and they were seeing each other after a year apart.
Enzo’s face filled with distaste. He took a step toward them, then, deciding against it, lit a cigarette instead.
If he could, he’d probably burn every man alive to keep his princess to himself.
Stefano delivered a few charming words to her before draping his arm over her shoulders and coming our way.
Enzo scowled. “What the fuck are you grinning about?”
Stefano shrugged. “Your discomfort’s entertaining, Fratello.”
“Fuck off.”
I shook my head from the doorway. The day Stefano was cursed to obsess over a woman, Enzo was going to give it back to him tenfold.
I shifted to let the two walk in, then blocked Enzo’s path. “No smoking.”
He stared at his wife’s disappearing back before puffing directly into my face. “Since when?”
Since I learned of Anna’s reaction.
He observed me with interest. He usually reserved it for selecting our merchandise. I didn’t care for the heat of his focus on me. “You smoke,” he pointed out.
“Not anymore.”
He scoffed. Then stopped. “You’re serious.” I held his gaze. His eyes were shrewd as he squashed the cigarette under his shoe. “First the invitation, now this. Lead the way, Maestro.”
I did. Stefano was sprawled on a chair at the dining table, attention on his phone, and Daria was all over the room.
Touching and feeling up my home like she wanted to be fucked by it.
Running her hands over the rough, structured walls, she placed her cheek on them and whispered. “I’ve missed you, baby.”
“What’s wrong with our home?” Enzo asked grumpily.
She gave him a cheeky smile. “You mean mine?”
Jesus. Was he still paying her rent to live in the house he owned?
“My mistake, principessa.” There was no hesitation in his tone.
“That’s our first child. This is my youngest. I loved doing it up. I miss it, you know.” She looked at me with accusation in her eyes.
Stefano glanced up from his phone. “Why haven’t you invited our cognata?”
“I don’t entertain.”
“Now you do?”
No, I didn’t want to leave home. I didn’t have a choice. This monthly dinner thing Daria had come up with was costing me time.
Behind us, pots banged in the kitchen. Three times, a four-second pause, and another sound.
A pan, probably, or someone using it in place of my head.
The conversation stilled. Got my annoying brother’s attention.
Tucking his phone away, he got to his feet.
My hackles rose as he swaggered in the direction of the kitchen.
For a heartbeat, I forgot myself. The same blood as Enzo’s pulsed in my veins. Hot. Possessive. Insane.
“Stefano,” I fought to control my voice, but he would have picked up the warning underlined in it anyway.
Unfortunately, he was hard of hearing. Instead of turning back, he shrugged my words off with a swipe of his hand and swaggered to the kitchen. “Just going to look at what’s killing your pots.”
I clenched the back of my jaw. Glued my feet to the floor and watched him go, seeking what was mine. Another pot banged, and Daria winced. “At least I’m quiet in the kitchen.”
“True. You only burn things, principessa.”
“What? You love everything I make.”
Enzo brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “That’s because I’m lovesick.”
“Get a fucking room,” I clipped out before I took four steps to the side.
I could only see Stefano draped against the doorway.
But I already knew what he would find. A furious Anna.
I’d somehow managed to set my entire household staff on fire.
Magda, because someone else was cooking in her kitchen.
Anna… well, probably because she’d rather kill me than cook for my family.
The worst part was that I was pissed with myself.
There was no pattern to my actions. She was a virus in my body.
Spreading through my veins and fogging my mind.
I wanted to hide her away and introduce her to my family at the same time.
I wanted her to finish me, but somewhere in between those thoughts, I also wanted her to fuck me.
Unfortunately for me, the only thing she planned to fuck was my mind.
Without realizing it, I’d taken two more steps. Just in time to catch her flying out of the butler’s kitchen with a heavy pot in her hand. She skidded to a stop at the sight of my brother.
His whistle and the low baritone in his voice sounded like fucking nails on a chalkboard. “Hola, chica.”
Her lips moved. I couldn’t hear what she said.
Her voice was too soft. Thirty-two feet between us.
I hoped she was saying something like, fuck off, I’m your brother’s.
Stefano turned his head and gave me a smug look.
Knowing her, she’d agreed to marry the bastard to piss me off. “I found your maid, Nico.”
I frowned. If he was going to emphasize the ‘maid’, he should have done it along with the ‘your’. My fingers twitched at my sides. “Stop being annoying and make yourself useful in here.”
He didn’t budge.
Ten grand at three points… three hundred a week. Miss two payments and the balance jumps to ten-six. I forced myself to walk away. Out of sight. There was no point in giving myself an ulcer. Fifteen thousand at four percent weekly… six hundred.
“What’s wrong with Magda?” Enzo had taken his tie off again. It was the second time he’d undone it. Every time Daria tied it up again, he undid something of hers. He’d swiped two bracelets off her wrists. She had either not noticed or given up on it.
“Nothing.”
“So why is she mad?”
“She’s not.” I sank down into the chair at the head of the table. My eye twitched. Fucking Stefano had walked inside the kitchen, completely out of my sight. If I increase it to four-point five percent, it could be six hundred and seventy-five.
“So?”
“I have another maid.”
“What’s wrong with her? Do I need to scare her into doing her fucking job?”
“Sul serio,” Daria muttered.
I was off the chair. Six steps in the direction of the kitchen.
“Get the fuck out of there.”
I felt the burn of both stares from the table.
I was a man of limited capacity. I couldn’t hold my patience with both my brothers.
One was trying to get into Anna’s fuchsia panties, and the other was itching to put his gun to her face.
What the fuck had I been thinking? I needed to hide this girl from my brothers.
“What?” I growled at them.
Daria shook her head hurriedly, dropping her gaze to her lap.
“Interesting,” Enzo murmured.
Good. I was going to give him a show because my asshole younger brother needed a hearing aid.
I counted the wooden planks toward the kitchen.
My gaze fixated on the idiot leaning on the counter.
Anna was moving around the stove, her cheeks aflame.
I didn’t care to know if it was from anger or embarrassment or something else entirely.
None of it should be seen by my fucking brother.
Grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt, I yanked him away.
He didn’t even have the audacity to be surprised. “You’re showing your true colors, Nico.”
“I’ll show you something else entirely if you don’t fucking move. Go and sit at the fucking table. Now.”
“Jesus.” He held up his hands, a smirk on his lips that I so badly wanted to split open with my fist. “You could have asked.”
“I did.”
“I’ll see you in there, Anna.” She stared at both of us, her lips tight. “I can’t wait to taste those.” He had better be referring to the food. But he was gone before I could ask him, leaving me alone with her.
There was something about Anna and me in a room alone.
It must have been the tension of eleven years of need.
Everything slowed down. Pressure built against my chest. Each movement was a hot fire that sizzled in my veins.
Each blink, swallow, and glance. What I needed to do was move, but what I did was stay.
Wooden spoon in hand, dripping salsa into the pot, she watched me with a hatred that burned as much as the salsa she was about to serve.
The annoying buzz of my brother’s voice filled the background. I suddenly wanted to shove them all out the door, put her on the counter, and lick the salsa from her body.
Can’t do that. I took a deep breath. Even breathing fucking hurt when she was within my reach. “You told him your name,” I said through clenched teeth.
“That’s what you do when someone asks for it.” Her tone bit into the thick tension in the room.
“Shouldn’t have.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.”
The kitchen block and six feet between us. “Look at it this way. When you put an end to me, mia piccola assassina, he’s going to know your details.”