7. Valeria #2
I run to the kitchen before he takes them off.
I’m a fly pinging against glass, dumbly looking for escape.
I lean against the kitchen counter and take a deep breath.
Maybe I should get a drink. A man has never made me this nervous before.
I have to tell him, tonight, that this isn’t going to work out.
And I absolutely can not sleep with him.
I run a cold hand along my neck and face. I’m heating up.
I open the fridge.
Surprisingly, there are a few ingredients inside—eggs, fancy cheese, deli meats, a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, butter, milk, and most interestingly, fresh spinach. Nico seems more the type of guy who lives exclusively off of vodka and steak.
The freezer has a few bottles of top-shelf whiskey—blech—and a sheet of what looks like frozen, homemade cookies with hand-written reheating notes on top. A gift from his loving mother? I assumed he hated her as much as his dad, but maybe he likes her as much as his sister.
A man who loves the women in his life, and who is loved enough to get homemade cookies from them? I decide not to think about that any deeper.
I pull out the whiskey, search the pantry for a glass, and pour myself a finger before settling into the armchair.
I’m in no hurry to get home to Stefano and Dad.
One of the apartment complexes I reached out to emailed me a contract while I was at work.
I’ll sign it and move out as quickly as I can.
Until then, I just need to get through the next several days.
By the time Nico comes out of his bedroom, I’m sleepy and relaxed as I flip through one of the grocery-store thriller books he keeps on the floor.
“It’s the mom,” he says, his voice echoing a little in the empty place and startling me. He points to the book in my lap. “She’s the killer.”
He’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie and scrubbing the top of his head with a towel.
I snap the book closed. “I don’t like spoilers.”
He smirks. “It’s not a spoiler. I’ve only read the first few pages. I’m telling you, it’s the mom.”
“The mom is a red herring. It’s the boyfriend.”
His eyes glitter with interest, and I realize my mistake. I clear my throat. “Nico.”
“Val.” My name sounds like a dirty promise in his mouth. He takes a step closer to me. His gaze flicks down to the ring on my hand, and he smiles. The small bloody cut on his bottom lip is menacing.
I thought in the chair, I’d feel more powerful—like a high-powered exec looking down on her employee. But with Nico towering over me, I feel more like a student about to get reprimanded by her professor.
I stand, the armchair squeaking in protest. “Your apartment sucks.”
“You don’t like it? I think it’s homey.”
“For a serial killer, maybe.”
“Maybe I am a serial killer.”
I swallow.
My clothes cover almost my entire body, but the way Nico glances over me makes me feel naked. Exposed.
That’s what he wants, isn’t it?
“Time for your inspection,” he says.
I cross my arms to hide the frantic heartbeat that must be apparent through my shirt. “Be serious. You were just saying that to get under Stefano’s skin.”
“I was. But then I got to thinking about it on the ride over. Would you tell me if you had other bruises?”
“Yes.”
Nico laughs. “No, you wouldn’t.” He steps around me and sits in the armchair, resting his chin on his loose fist. His long legs sprawl wide. “Strip.”
I’m tempted to throw it in his face that this isn’t the first time I’ve stripped for a man. That I know how to draw out his anticipation, to have him drooling in my palm before I’ve even gotten to my underwear. If I wanted, I could make him beg for it.
But I don’t do any of that. Maybe I should, to make him lose interest in the chase, but I’m scared it won’t work, and my usual armor—scowls and verbal snips—only seems to fuel his interest further.
Feeling like I’m sinking in quicksand, I jerk off my shirt and pants, leaving them in a messy spread on the floor.
Nico doesn’t care.
His amber eyes burn for me. He’s completely still, save for his long fingers curling into a fist and a slight movement in his pants.
I suffer his scrutiny, burning with humiliation in his cold apartment. My nipples are hard points, visible through my thin bra.
He lazily spins his finger.
I turn.
He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“Come here.”
If he touches me, I’m going to fuck everything up even more than it already is. “No.”
“Valeria.”
I reach for my pants on the floor, and he steps on them.
I swing back up, covering my breasts with one arm. “I need to go. I have work tomorrow.”
He reaches forward. His fingers skim the outside of my thigh. “Stay here. I don’t want you going back to your place.”
I take a step back. He stands.
My heart thunders. “I’m leaving now.”
“You just got here.”
“Nico, we can’t get married,” I blurt. The last syllable echoes briefly in his empty living room. I tense.
He frowns and closes the gap between us with a step. “You don’t want to get married?”
“No—well—not yet.” Of course, I want to get married. Just not to him.
He seems to relax a little. “That’s fine.”
That’s fine. I blow out a huge sigh of relief. “That’s great to hear—”
“The wedding won’t be for another few months.”
I shake my head. “Nico.”
“Val.” His fingers brush mine. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind?”
My mind is short-circuiting from his gentle touch. “I can’t marry you. I don’t want to.”
His fingers start to circle my wrist, and I pull away like a rabbit narrowly escaping a snare.
I snatch my clothes off the floor and yank them on as I talk, circling the armchair to put distance between us.
“Listen to me. No one asked me if I wanted this. I had my whole life ahead of me—I had a job, and I almost had enough money to move out. This throws a wrench in everything. Please, Nico, there’s so many other women in the Family who would kill to marry someone like you. I am not that woman.”
He frowns. “No one asked me if I wanted to get married either. This is something we just have to do.”
“But not me. Please, Nico, I am a nobody, nothing. I don’t want to be in the Family, I can’t raise kids in a lifestyle like this.”
Nico stalks me around his armchair. “You want kids?”
I rack my brain. This is going off the rails.
“If I don’t marry you, you know what’s gonna happen to your family?” he asks.
“That’s not fair.”
“Your dad should’ve thought of that before he tried killing my brother.”
I stop in my tracks. What?
Nico laughs. He finally catches up to me and herds me until my back bumps against a wall.
“No one told you? Your dad teamed up with a group of Russian mercenaries and tried to assassinate Don Salvatore, but he was one step ahead, and the only reason your dad is alive today is because I told Salvatore that I was madly in love with you.”
“But you’re not,” I murmur.
There’s a heavy pause before he admits, “I’m not.”
Thank god.
“You picked me because I was the worst option, because you wanted to get back at your dad?”
Nico smirks. “Sounds like you’re all caught up. And since we’re going to be stuck together—”
“You picked me because you wanted to embarrass the Family.” My mind is whirling. “But you know what would be even more embarrassing?”
Nico’s silent, his face unreadable. He looks like a stranger—he is a stranger, an intimidating one with black clothes and a powerful physique.
“A divorce. Nico, we could get married and then a few months down the line, get a divorce.”
“That’s not going to work. I need an heir and a wife, and you need a family that’s alive.” His hand comes up to my jaw, his thumb tracing over my cheek like he did when I had his cock in my mouth.
I’m sinking, mud sucking at my ankles. “No one wants to see you and me together. My family is already exiled—no one would punish us further if you and I get a divorce. And I know the women in the Family. There are a few who would love to be your mistress and give you dozens of kids on the side while you and I pretend to be together. And after you divorce me and marry them, their families would be much better matches for you in the long-term.”
“You’re proposing I cheat?” He’s amused, before the lightness in his face fades to something darker. “Are you going to cheat too?”
“I’m proposing we have a fake relationship, only on paper, for a year.
I get my and my family’s safety by playing along for now, and you get to have even more of a scandal than marrying an Aceto—a divorce and an affair.
And, at the end, you still get a new wife and an heir, but with someone who wants to be by your side. ”
His thumb scrubs over my lower lip. His fingers tighten at the nape of my neck. It’s so hard to think with his nearness—with the fresh lime scent of his body wash.
“What if I said no?”
Even his intoxicating scent and the warm press of his hard body doesn’t keep me from scowling. “Then I would fight you. I would be the worst wife imaginable, and I’d never give you a child.”
Nico’s gaze flicks to my mouth, impassive and intense. “What if I forced you?”
I summon all the hate I feel for him in this moment. “I would make the children hate you,” I say, barely managing not to let my voice crack. Even the idea of using my future children that way makes my heart squeeze horribly.
He meets my gaze for several long seconds. Hate and desire spin through my body, and then he presses up against me, his thigh between my legs, and I stifle a moan.
“How about a different sort of deal? I don’t see the point in going and hunting down a new fiancée when I already have one here. You’ll play the part to our friends and family for the next year, and if you can convince some poor woman to take your place and bring her into my bed, I’ll take her.”
I don’t let hope shift my expression.
“But you know what I think?” Nico leans in until his breath caresses my neck. “I think you’ll change your mind before then.”