2. Nicola
Nicola
I really don’t want to like Edward Balestra.
It’s a matter of principle.
For one thing, he is the most arrogant son of a bitch I have ever met in my life. Worse than his father, who likes to walk with his nose permanently bent north.
As if everyone and everything else in his life is a stepping stone toward the heights of heaven.
Edward is the oldest son, and of course, he is primed to take over the business once his father either dies or hands over the reins.
Judging by what I’ve already seen of them, there will be no easy handoff, which leaves only death, and whether Edward wonders about that day is unclear to me.
A big ego and a bigger bank account make for a troubled young man who believes the world owes him.
From what I’ve seen and heard, I’m not wrong.
The only thing I know for certain is the heavy, heady sensation of his eyes on me whenever I enter the office for the meetings, dangled around as a distraction. For the father or the son, it doesn’t matter to Daddy.
My footsteps make no sound over the soft moss.
Balestra Senior never makes eye contact. The son, however, gives me all the attention Arden hopes for and I secretly enjoy.
I don’t want to feel anything for Edward besides disdain. He’s dark, and broody, and grumpy. My enemy. You’re supposed to hate your enemy with every fiber of your being, right?
That is what all the experts say on the subject. It’s either hatred or forgiveness, and I’ve purposely kept from learning anything about Edward, so there will be nothing to forgive him for. His dark heart is his own business and whatever reckonings will commence on his end, it’s not for me to say.
“Well?” I call back. “Are you coming?”
A low growl answers me.
Rather than wait for him to catch up, I increase my own speed, heading down trails I’ve memorized since childhood.
Mother’s garden, her territory, and the flowers are more her family than either one of her kids. It’s fine with me. I know how to grow and adapt to what I need to be. For my brother Scott?
Not so much.
“Where are you going, little bunny?” Edward teases behind me. “Think you can try to lose me in your warren of flowers out here?”
Or maybe I’ve done my best not to get too close to the Italian lothario who will no doubt take what he wants if given even the smallest amount of encouragement because I sense it.
Unfortunately, it’s a hard line to straddle when your father wants you closer.
I pause only long enough to check from the corner of my eye that Edward is actually following me into the garden before I start walking again.
Daddy wants me to infiltrate Edward’s organization to gather entail. Which is an idea I agree with to a certain extent, but not when it is unspoken but known that infiltration will be possible by a single means.
Daddy wants me to use my body for information. His newest plan and one he believes will be key to their downfall.
Which makes me, instinctively, less inclined to even fantasize about Edward the way I’d started to before that plan was formulated. Fantasize about all the ways he might use those hands of his or the way he might make me scream his name.
“Perhaps the plan is not to lose you but to take you away from the rest of the outside world.” I think I say it low enough for him to miss, but his dark chuckle tells me otherwise.
“What will you do with me once we’ve made our escape?”
“Enjoy the day,” I retort.
“Is that all you want to do?”
A curse falls from my lips. With him? No, sadly.
His gaze shoots arrows through my back. I disappear around a bend, the shade ofa maple tree castling dappled sunlight on lupine, foxglove, and lavender.
Too many things about Edward draw me despite our families’ long-standing feud. How do you erase years of bad blood to actually consider someone a friend, or at the very least, someone to commiserate with?
I stop underneath an arbor bursting with white climbing roses, their scent intoxicating. The stone bench underneath is shaded from the midafternoon sun, and I settle down, patting the empty space beside me once Edward catches up.
He’s windswept and unable to pull himself together from whatever he’d done last night. His skin bears the purple darkness of a night spent doing anything other than sleeping.
He shakes his head, and from this vantage point with the sun at his back, his features are cast in darkness. He looks like a phantom straight out of a wet dream, and my skin tightens uncomfortably.
“I’d rather stand,” he replies.
“Now you sound just like your father. Stiff.”
“Heaven forbid.” Yet he makes no move toward me, and instead of giving in to the power dynamic where he’s the looming shadow and I’m the helpless little bunny, I stand as well and rook a finger toward him.
“It’s okay, Edward,” I murmur. “I’m not going to bite.”
He still refuses to move. “I see what you’re doing, Nicola.”
“What is that?” I question. My breath trembles.
“You’re going to use me to either distract from your alcoholic, abusive father or to make him angrier than he was when we left the office. I refuse to play a part in either of those things. Especially considering the way the Salvatores have trespassed on our shipping routes.”
I cross one leg over the other. “I have nothing to do with what Daddy chooses to do.”
“No doubt one of the first truths you’ve told all day,” Edward replies.
Except the heat in his tone and his eyes tell me a different story, and it’s that narrative I force myself to latch on to. For my family. For the business my father has been desperately trying to build to get us out of poverty.
When you come from nothing, every penny you scrape to save might mean the difference between a night with an empty stomach or a plate of food.
I stand as well and lift my arms overhead, stretching until my fingers graze the arbor overhead. “Come closer.”
Daddy will do it, too; follow through on the beatings he’s only threatened when it comes to the Balestras.
Once he decided on the part I’d play, there was no turning back.
He wants me on my back for this man? Someone on the inside to ferret out secrets to use as weapons, and he doesn’t care if it debases me. Deflowers me. Whatever D comes along with his plan, he’s willing to let me pay the price.
My attraction is my secret. I like looking at Edward.
I like his tone of voice and the rogue glint in his eyes.
Edward refuses to move from his spot, his hands sliding into the pocket of his dark gray slacks. “It’s not you I’m worried about, Nicola. It’s me.”
My eyes go wide at his honesty. “You think you’re going to scare me? Is that it?”
His growl echoes through the garden. “It’s not about scaring you. I think that if I get close to you and feel the heat of your skin, I’m going to do something I might regret.”
He breathes hard, my stomach giving a heated flip at the sound. It clutches when he steps forward and bends, his brow a firm line, to take my hand. It’s the first time we’ve touched since the first meeting. A sharp pull brings me to my feet.
“I’m sure regrets haven’t been enough to stop you in the past. You strike me as the type of man to do whatever he likes when he likes.” I force myself to leer. “Within the limits of your father's reach, of course.”
His fingers tighten on my knuckles, a cool and unbreakable hold. “This isn’t about the past, either,” he replies.
“Then what is it about?” For the family . I take a bold step closer to Edward and make sure he sees the intent written on every line of me. “Because the way I see it, you and I have been playing our positions for long enough that we can be real with each other. There is no one here tugging at our puppet strings and forcing us to dance together.”
I suck on my bottom lip as he grips my hand tighter, holding it near to his lips.
Suspicion lifts at his intentions. I know the look of desire on a man. I’ve seen it before enough to know I can’t mistake his expression for anything else, but what are his motives?
Does he want me as a woman, or is there another layer beneath it?
Does it even matter?
“The strings might be invisible, but they are always there. Trust me when I tell you.” He sounds bitter.
I tug at his hand, but he doesn’t let go. Not yet.
“They’re biting too deeply for you. Aren’t they?” I cock my head to the side as I take him in, from the way he forces himself to be loose and nonchalant. The way he tracks my every minuscule movement. “Those invisible strings. What? Is there anything else you wish to do in this life? A way you want to pave for yourself?”
He clucks his tongue and finally drops my hand. “Those are subjects much too deep for such a lovely day. And for your company.”
“Why is that?” I press. “Because you don’t think I’m able to handle anything deep or dark? Or, heaven forbid, deprived? I’ve seen more than you’re giving me credit for seeing.”
“I think I don’t know you or your motives well enough to allow even an inch of my boundaries to slip. No matter how beautiful you are.”
For some reason, it irks me, which is completely illogical, and I know it. Especially considering he spoke my internal monologue out loud.
There will be no going back from this moment. We are alone in the garden with no one to witness what we say to each other, yet the moment is charged with the poignancy of a thousand eyes on our skin.
Waiting for our next move.
“I understand that the chains bite no matter what else you might want to do. The footprints of our lives have already been laid out long before our birth, it seems, a trajectory set for that that takes us up to the stars.” I reach for him and rest my hands lightly on his shoulders, noting the way he flinches. “There is nothing wrong with feeling the pressure.”
“It’s a different sort of pressure than anything else. But what choice do we have?”
“None,” I admit.
No choice but to endure and to make every pain into a link of our armor. I knew pain. I knew the sting of well-placed words as well as the cut of a fist in the right place, somewhere no one else would see.
I’m sure Edward does, too.
“Not even in our affections,” he continues.
I haven’t stepped away, and neither has he. “Is that your way of saying you have affection for me? Be still my heart. A master of flirtation, I see.”
“Please,” Edward scoffs. “Don’t tell me you’re proficient in that language as well. I’ve heard you speaking English, Italian, and even a bit of German. Adding flirt to the mix is overkill.”
“And you’re pointedly avoiding my previous statement.” I let my hands drop back to my side. “I’d like to circle back around to the fact that you have the hots for me.”
My joke lands flat and dissolves into the over-dry ground, sucked of all its moisture under the heat of a summer sky.
He takes a step back like I’ve burned him, his handsome features twisting in an immediate frown. “Our first conversation, and this is where you go.”
Is he on to me? Does he know why I’ve had to learn my fourth language when the only real practice I had was a kiss from a gardener?
“I suppose I thought your father kept you on a tighter leash than that,” Edward adds.
“My leash is just as tight as yours. Yes.” I scowl, thinking of all the past experiences when I’ve tried to sneak out of the house to join the girls at my private school on their outings. Clubs, the movies, anything that involves moving my body and hooking a mate, even if it’s just for the night.
Daddy puts the kibosh on everything. My free time, after at-home tutoring for college prep courses, is spent learning his trade alongside Scott as Arden lectures us until my ears bleed.
I’m the only one he tells to stay away from boys, at least, until last week, when he changed his mind.
“I’m sure it hasn't stopped you.” The twinkle returns to Edward’s eyes.
The tension of the moment passes like a cloud across the sun. “Any guard I’ve even attempted to flirt with has been taken away. Moved to that farm in the country where pets go when they die.” My smile is grim. “Heaven forbid the ones who tried to indulge me in a kiss.”
I’ve got to steer the conversation back around, and quickly.
But Edward’s a sneaky one, and I don’t even realize that he’s maneuvered me into a verbal corner until I’m trapped. “A kiss,” he repeats. “I knew you wanted something out of me, drawing me out here.”
I’ve come too far to turn back but I can’t stop the tendril of fear and desire weaving through my vertebrae.
I jolt when his calloused fingertips skim across my cheekbone. “Are you thinking about getting handsy?” I ask. My voice trembles. “Since we’re alone?”
“Seems to me you’ve got me maneuvered, little bunny, but now that it’s time for you to put your money where your mouth is…you’re scared.” His gaze drops down to my mouth.
I jut my chin out obstinate. “I’m not scared of anything. Little fox.”
“Careful. Foxes eat rabbits.” His mouth curves up. “It seems to me maybe I’ve coined you wrong. You are the fox, attempting to make me the rabbit.”
I force myself to steady, to accept the heat flowing through me, which has nothing to do with duty and everything to do with lust, and say, “Why do you think you’re here , Eddie?”
He groans at the nickname, bending down to capture my lips in his next breath. Stealing mine in the process. This kiss?—
I shouldn’t. I don’t want to.
I drop my arms around his shoulders and hold on, nails biting down into hard muscle. I need. Him .
It’s a first kiss, and it feels like we’ve done this a thousand times, making a mockery of every kiss I’ve had before. A shiver races down my spine at the darkness in him, the spicy taste of his tongue with a hint of smoke. There is no emotion in the kiss, and every part of me aches to feel the rest of him.
This strutting peacock of a man.
His hands slap against my ass and grab, pulling me tightly to his front. Those same treacherous hands slide along the curve of my rear, up to my waist, and down to where my thighs meet, the hardness of his erection pressing to my front.
An immediate reaction…for me .
This isn’t a stolen moment where we have to tiptoe around each other. Asking permission for a small bit of intimacy.
We’re nothing but beasts.
Ready to tear each other apart.
I pull away, and he kisses a ragged line along the side of my neck before hoisting me off of my feet. I’m forced to wrap my legs around him to hang on, and he moves back to my mouth to kiss me roughly.
The taste of him on my lips is intoxicating, and he growls possessively before shoving his tongue inside my mouth. He drags his hand through my hair, mussing the strands. I’m on fire and shivering and gasping in a combination of surprise and desire.
“Little fox, do you know how hot you are?” he asks against my skin. “How I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I first saw you?”
The feeling is mutual.
I absorb those words, my head dropping back on my neck and arching into him. Those horribly plump lips trail fire down past my collarbone to the swell of my right breast, then my left.
I need to stop this.
I need to send him far away because this type of man is dangerous to my health, and if I let him go too far today, it will jeopardize every plan in place. I’ll be of no use to him once he gets what he wants.
Edward sits beneath the arbor with me on his lap. The intoxicating scent of roses adds another level to my already overstimulated senses. He spreads my legs wider, my skirt riding high up my leg. He pushes the material north, his hand still threaded in my hair, using it to pull my head back further. He nips at my throat, and his growl is louder as he squeezes my inner thigh.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, Nicola. So damn long.”
I can’t speak. Pulling away, I catch a glimpse of his heated eyes before he runs his hands higher yet, skimming the lining of my panties.
Another inch, and he’ll have his hand on me, in me. I jump, which only brings me into closer contact with those thick fingers.
“Stop.” The whispered plea is half-hearted at best.
Edward chuckles, the dark sound like an electric volt through me.
“Why, little fox, when you feel so good? You’re hot, and I’m willing to bet you’re wet. For daddy’s enemy. Is this where you thought we’d be when you suggested a walk?”
Emotions boil inside of me, and I huff out a breath. The sound incites Edward’s laughter. Tell him to back up, now .
My mouth opens just as he slides his fingers across my core. His dark chuckle is lost in my mouth, his fingers gliding in clear demand. He frees his other hand from my hair and drags my shirt down, my breast popping free of my bra.
He curves his hips up against me. “You’re just going to let me do what I want with you, aren’t you? Do you feel how hard you make my cock?”
He slides his index finger home. The intrusion has me gasping, my throat clutching. Holy hell, he’s bold. He slides his finger deeper inside of me and curls it.
Half a second. That’s how close I am to throwing everything my family and I have worked for just to get it on with this horrible man I can’t seem to resist. My core aches, ready for him. Ready for whatever he plans to unleash on me.
Then someone pulls a trigger, and the sound of a gunshot rips through our moans.