11. Nico
Nico
“This is my first dance… with a man.”
Something completely unexpected and undeniably primal had roared to life inside me with Matilde’s admittance while holding her in my arms. I want to be the only man she dances with. I want to claim all of her firsts. I must protect her, too.
Ever since her birthday, she’s been constantly on my mind. A lonely farm girl leaving her unkind mother and her country behind after her father’s death. What’s the whole story there? I need to know more.
Drawn from my musings, I catch Caterina staring at me as we dance while I wonder if this reception is nearly done.
I want to fly back to Chicago tonight, no matter how late.
For the first time, I resent the impulse that had me insisting Matilde live with my parents the second she set foot inside my house.
Honor demanded it for the sake of the girl she was and so I wouldn't be driven crazy having a bothersome child to supervise.
She still drives me crazy, but I can't see her as a bothersome child anymore.
“Do you still have your little knife?” I ask my sister, thinking of the lessons I offered the nanny.
“Of course. Do you want to borrow it? Did you quarrel with Alessio earlier?” she asks, worriedly.
“Still my Curious Cat.” I turn us and dip her in time with the music, hoping to make her laugh.
“Nico…”
“Your husband and I will never be best friends, sweet one. It’s just the way we’re made. Don’t fret.”
I’d been asking him about Matilde. He was not forthcoming and kept referring to her as la topolina.
Why does he have a nickname for her? And she’s not a fucking mouse.
He’d asked about Dante being in Italy again, fishing for any connection to his sister Sofia’s disappearance, and our conversation had gone downhill from there.
I spot Caterina’s bodyguard and her other sister-in-law bickering like lovers nearby. “That looks like trouble.”
“Armando and Gia’s business is not my business, but my brother and my husband fighting is.”
“Gia is my Consigliere’s wife. It could become my business if she's having an affair with your husband's best friend."
Cat's eyes widen in distress, and I know I've guessed the truth. That will be a problem but only if Ritchie finds out.
"You’re angry with me, aren’t you? Because of Father?” I finally called her a few days ago. Not the way I wanted to share it, but the word was spreading like wildfire.
“It hurts that you kept it from me. You could've told me-”
“He’s been difficult. He didn’t want to tell anyone, but I should've told you sooner.” I kiss her forehead, my silent apology.
“I’m sorry, Nico. I know you’re going through so much,” she sighs. I’m not the one who deserves an apology or consoling. Just more guilt. “Have you given yourself any time to mourn?”
“Our marriage wasn’t something worth mourning. She would’ve been better off if she’d never laid eyes on me.” Her chin starts to tremble. Fuck. “Cat, please… let it go.”
She plasters on a smile for me when I certainly haven’t earned that. “I wish you could’ve brought Matilde here.”
I wish I could’ve, too. “How did you get to know her? You never said.”
Cat evades my stare. “You never asked.”
“I’m asking now.”
“You should ask Matilde about what happened the first time she was in Chicago. And you should allow her to decide if she wants to answer you.”
“The first time she was in Chicago? What does that mean?”
Unfortunately, I get no further answers because Carlo Vicini’s voice suddenly fills the room… after he’s sliced an ear off one of his underbosses.
“Another bloody reception,” I mutter as Caternia turns her face into my chest. She doesn’t want to see the gory sight, and I can’t blame her, but I don’t look away.
It serves as another reminder of the violence that surrounds our lives.
It haunts my steps, like Margareta’s lifeless eyes, my motherless children and my fear of another failure.
***
A few nights later, it’s snowing when I’m in my office working late and pondering my options.
I suggested she could stay with us. She hadn’t given me a response.
She’s young and alone in a foreign country.
She needs to be protected. My children need a mother.
I won’t pretend I’m a good man, but I’m doing what’s best for them.
She was pissed at me earlier today when I picked her up from Gia Barzetti’s house, cutting her visit there short. She accused me of following her. Admittedly, I find myself wanting to do little else.
I decline an unexpected call from Antonio Barzetti when Matilde pokes her head around the door. “The twins are asleep. May I go, sir?”
Sir.
Never Nico.
Glancing at the time, I grimace. “The roads may be slick from the snow. I didn’t mean for you to work so late. I meant to go see my children sooner, too.” I’m failing as a father. But if I can give them a decent mother, maybe I’ll have done one thing right.
“Primo said he can manage the roads.” She gestures toward my covered desk. “You are working late, too. They still wake during the night, yes?”
I nod, tiredly. “Most nights.”
“You are alone here with them,” she says, sounding sad.
I don’t want to be alone.
“Come in for a moment. Take a seat. Why didn’t you tell me you had been in Chicago before you came to work for me?” Alarm flashes in her eyes, awakening my predatory instincts.
“I… I was not-”
“Don’t lie. I'll know, and you know my rules. It’s important that you’re honest with me. You work for me.”
“Yes, I know,” she says, mulishly.
My patience is slipping, but I recall Caterina’s advice. “Matilde… If you don’t want to answer, I won’t force you to, but did something happen when you were here before?”
“You said I don’t have to answer.”
“I said that. I’d like to know anyway.”
Hanging her head, she twists her fingers together.
Something sparkly catches my eye, the bracelet I gave her.
I wasn’t sure if she’d wear it. I’m fucking ecstatic that she is.
Rising from my chair, I stride around the desk and take a seat beside her.
The tantalizing scent of peaches fills my nostrils, but I focus on the question.
This requires delicacy, never my strong suit.
How do I pry answers out of this girl without upsetting her?
Why do those answers mean so much to me?
Carefully, I move my hand toward her wrist, lightly touching the bracelet and nothing more.
Her cheeks redden, but she doesn’t shrink away.
“I admire you.” Her head pops up, suspicion dancing in her hypnotic eyes.
“I mean your bravery. It was brave coming to this country alone. There are opportunities, but it can be dangerous, especially for a young girl like you.”
“I know,” she whispers, her eyes dropping once more.
There’s another call from Antonio. What’s his deal? I quickly decline it again, turning back to her. “Why did you leave Chicago for Vegas? Did something bad happen to you in my city?” I ask, sudden dread hollowing out my stomach.
“I was… It happened so fast. I don’t like to speak of it.”
She switched to Italian, so I do as well. “Someone hurt you? Who? Please, tell me.”
"You will think I was stupid."
"Never. Matilde…"
“I trusted a stranger, but she must have been working with those men.”
“Trusted who? What men? What did they do?” She flinches at my brusque tone. Fucking idiot, she won’t open up like that. “Mi dispiace, tesoro. What men? Who? Did they…”
All the shit I’ve seen and done, and I can’t voice what I fear. I can’t bear thinking of any harm befalling this girl.
“Men in a van. They took me. In the middle of the day. From the sidewalk. They wanted to sell me.”
“Trafficanti?” She nods, and my entire world tilts in a sickening way. Sex traffickers in my city? Sex traffickers within a thousand miles of my Matilde?
I sit mutely, my initial shock quickly consumed by building rage, but Matilde’s fear and pain pour from her now like a torrent. They took her. They touched her. They held her captive. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder. Were they working with the Bratva? Who else would dare?
She rocks back and forth, trying to soothe herself as she speaks. My cruel heart fucking breaks, witnessing her pain and misplaced shame. "You didn't do anything wrong, Matilde. It was those men who were wrong."
"The doctor… I can still remember…"
When she trails off, too overcome to continue, I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
The world shifts in a new direction when she leans into me, seeking comfort.
Her sweet fragrance, her soft hair and all my unholy cravings are at war with this discovered truth.
A twisted sense of purpose fills me. And an unquenchable thirst for revenge. She was right. It never ends.
“I know this is hard to talk about, but I want you to tell me every detail you can about your abduction.”
“I can’t!”
“You can. You are so brave, Matilde. Can you try for me?”
Her fragile yes breaks me all over again, but the way she lifts her chin reminds me how strong her spirit remains.
Speaking in Italian, she spares no horrible detail - from the prostitute with purple hair named Violet to the nightclub in Las Vegas where Alessio and Caterina rescued her from her highest bidder. Her agony over the fate of the other captive girls fuels my wrath.
Alessio disposed of the buyer and the captor who drove her to Vegas, but there are obviously others running the ring. How many, I do not know. But I’ll find out. I will find these men, whoever they are, every last one of them, and I will make them wish they had never been born.
But there are other questions. “Why were you outside The Gentleman’s Post? It’s no place for a girl like you.”
“I… I was lost, sir.”
In a large, unknown city, it’s possible the answer is that simple. Before I can question her further or beg her to stop calling me ‘sir,’ Barzetti is calling again.
“That might be important,” she murmurs.
Not as important as you.
“Goddammit, Antonio, what is it?” I answer impatiently, hoping to shut him up.
“My apologies, Capo, but this is urgent. The De Luca bitch and that bodyguard just murdered my brother.”