68. Nero
NERO
The lights glint around the room, masking the shadowy corner alcoves I’ve watched couples disappear into over the few minutes of standing on the balcony that overlooks the main floor.
My scan passes over the guests and staff, not paying anyone in particular attention as I search for the only woman here I’d like to give me a private tour of those back rooms sometime.
She ushered me upstairs earlier when I arrived before Vanessa and Zeno were due to come, tossing something that sounded like, “I’m busy working” over her shoulder. Her dedication is another thing to love about her.
I find her in the corner of the bar, leaning over to speak with the bartender.
Her corset-style top rides up, revealing her lower back to the guests whose eyes wander.
My fingers tighten around the railing, and I straighten, prepared to go down there and rip their eyes out if they don’t find a new view in the next three seconds.
I wonder how she’d feel about me murdering her paying guests. She once got pissed for a possessive comment, but so many things have changed since then.
I’ll need to test it one day.
She saves their lives by getting back to her feet. With a wave of her hand to the bartender, she skirts the edges of the floor until reaching the metal stairs leading to where I’m standing.
“It seems roles have reversed,” I remark when her steps reach nearly the top. My gaze slowly drags from the assholes who stared at her to my beautiful cara mia.
She loops an arm around mine and positions herself beside me—a queen looking down on her empire, while I’m the mere jokester not fit to be in her presence. “You really made me admire you that day. Visiting was a surprise, but you didn’t shy away from what I had to do.”
My arm slides around her waist, twisting her until I’m all she sees. “Protecting your staff?”
“Torture,” she counters.
“Nah, I don’t see it like that. Either way, you think a bit of blood would scare me away?
” My thumbs stroke the couple inches of skin above her pants, claiming it as mine and wiping away the stares of others.
“On Christmas, you asked about my prospects and I said I’d never marry a woman simply for my role.
That I’d only choose someone who’d want me.
It wasn’t a lie, but there was more to it.
I couldn’t have someone like…well, I love mini-Mancini, but her.
I wanted someone who could respect not only role and position but maybe be part of it, in a way.
Someone who’d be willing to train with me, learn how to shoot a gun. ”
“Well”—she flicks her hair as arms wind around my neck—“I’m sorry there will be no training required. I come with all my certificates.”
Laughter bursts from my chest. Unable to help myself, to not go long without touching her, I dip slightly to tighten one arm around her hip, the other sliding beneath her ass to lift and carry her into her office.
She squeals and slaps my arm as I rest her on the edge of her desk. “Nero, we can’t. Vanessa will be here soon.”
It’s cute she thinks I care about an audience. Not when she’s looking so fucking delectable in an outfit I’m still trying to cool my dick off from when I first saw her in it. And maybe a bit of internal pride too, that the men downstairs only got to look while I get to taste.
My tongue sweeps my bottom lip as I drop into a chair in front of the desk and slide her to the edge at the exact second the door behind me opens and my Capo’s grating voice officially eases my erection.
“Really, you two?”
Sighing dramatically—but also completely meaning it—I get to my feet and glare at the entering duo.
“Do you understand how long it’s been for us?
We deserve our privacy.” Between her healing and this week when Zeno has been off in the US, I’ve stuck around Rome as his stand-in, but we haven’t had sex since before my betrayal.
“Except this is my establishment and I make the rules.” Vanessa flicks her fingers at me and strides right by to Anastasia, who immediately shifts into business mode and slides off the desk. “And my rule is no sex.”
“Uh, have you seen what goes on down there?” I gesture to the door, but both women are now focused on Anastasia’s phone, as her nails tap across the screen.
“I’m texting Sasha to bring her up.”
She’s talking about the mysterious American new hire who’s been working here for the past few nights until Zeno and Vanessa returned from their trip across the ocean.
After a day of rest and jet lag, Anastasia doesn’t want to put off this meeting for too long.
I’ll admit, the entire thing has me curious, which is why I flew in this morning, insistent on sitting in.
“How was the wedding? Anything we should talk about later?” I ask Zeno.
Attending a fellow Cosa Nostra Capo’s wedding is technically somewhere I should have gone with him to, but I refused to fly to the other side of the world so soon after Ana forgave me.
Some mornings, I wake convinced it isn’t real.
He scratches the side of his face. “No, not really. But I need a damn break from weddings, which includes you two.”
Anastasia snorts, face still buried in her cell, but I don’t. Marriage might be almost a given in our world, but it barely touched the surface in my mind. I’d recently gotten her back, and won’t fuck shit up worse by speeding her through this relationship.
One day, though. For sure. My gaze snags on her left hand, my mind wandering.
“Katya’s planning hers and Dimitri’s,” Vanessa announces with a grin. “I think ours inspired her. And Lev will probably pop the question soon.”
At the sound of her brother’s name, Anastasia lifts her head but swivels to me. “Hey, did you know they took bets on when we’d sleep together? Fuckers. It’s our turn to get in on this. Let’s bet as to when Lev will propose to Sera.”
“Day after graduation.” Zeno’s voice is sure and calm—calmer than a big brother should be about his sister’s engagement, which tells me everything about his opinion of Lev. “He’ll wait until—”
Zeno cuts off when the door opens, two women in the doorway, one dressed in silk from working downstairs. Who I’ve taken to presume is Sasha nudges the girl inside and shuts the door.
Barely one step in, my best friend practically flies across the room, looming over the poor girl who presses so hard into the door, I’d believe she could go through it. I move, catching Anastasia’s eye, to hover nearer in case he does a very un-Zeno thing.
“What the actual fuck are you doing here? We just came from your wedding!”
“What?” Ana says aloud, as lost as I am.
The girl slides to the right, only to notice me and stop. Her bare shoulders curl inwards, eyes darting around the room. Anastasia steps closer, and I nudge myself between the girl and Zeno. If anything, just to diffuse the fear radiating from her.
Zeno, now occupied on his phone, doesn’t fight me pushing him backwards. He whips it into the air, an article up on the screen, dated recently, with the headline: Two powerful families unite under one rule. The attached picture is a wedding photo. The bride—
Anastasia’s gaze darts from the picture to the identical-looking woman standing between us, gaping. Her face, eyes—everything is the same.
Vanessa brings Zeno’s phone closer to the girl, showing her the article too, who looks as lost as the rest of us. “Explain this.”
Ella grasps the phone from Vanessa as her mouth falls open.
Her skin flushes red. And then—rage. She stalks to the opposite side of the room, shaking her head at the screen and apparently mumbling to herself in a not-so-quiet voice, leaving the rest of us looking on. That wasn’t an expected reaction.
“Fuck! I should have fucking known. Mom, why would you…?”
Vanessa’s on her heels, reaching for the girl. “What did your mother do? We won’t hurt you, despite how this looks.”
She turns, scanning the room. Zeno shakes his head. Ana is clearly confused. I’m playing bodyguard by the door. Vanessa looks as powerful as her nickname makes her be. When the girl looks at Anastasia, her facade melts off her with a resigned sigh.
“My name is Alexis Graves, not Ella. I’m sorry for lying. That photo is of my sister, Harley. That’s whose wedding you attended.”
Zeno growls, shaking out of his stupor. “No, we attended Alexis’s wedding. You must be Harley.”
Gotta hand it to the girl, she doesn’t back down, whirling to throw all her attitude at Zeno. If only she knew who she was actually shouting at. Something is confident about her demeanour, like she’s stood up to people like Zeno before.
“I think I know my own name, but thanks for your help. Fuck, you’re exactly like him! You wonder why I ran?”
“Him? Romano?” Zeno barks, naming the Cosa Nostra family based in the US whose wedding he attended. “You ran from Adrian fucking Romano?”
“You ran from your own wedding?” Vanessa jumps in, her softer voice almost comical in comparison.
Whatever-her-name-really-is rubs her face while looking back at the phone. “I should have guessed my parents would do this. They made Harley step in, and now she’s wed to a monster.”
“A powerful monster,” Zeno interjects, tugging on his hair. “A monster you’re going straight back to.”
Red fills her cheeks as she rounds on him. “I ran for a reason, so fuck you!”
“Why did you?” Anastasia pushes between the two leaders, approaching the girl with all the grace she has on stage and the affection she displays to her staff. She doesn’t go to touch her, though, purposely positioning herself between them.
She shudders, locking the phone and sliding it into Anastasia’s hand.
“I don’t want to be married, especially to a stranger.
This is a business deal done by my father who didn’t listen when I said I’m not interested.
I took off, assuming my parents would take the heat, the deal would break, and life would move on. ”
“Why here?”
“Last place they’d find me.” Alexis’s eyes flick to Zeno, her frown deepening, who puts her expression into words.
“Bad luck on your part to end up in this club of all places.”
Realization jolts, hiking her breath as she scans the room and me by the door. She licks her lips twice and wordlessly curses. “Please don’t.”
At this, Anastasia steps back with a hard look at Vanessa, who at least has the decency to seem ashamed.
“We have to, Alexis. We’re sorry. I’m the head of the Russian mob, and if the Romanos learned you were here, it could be a sign of war.
He”—she thumbs towards Zeno—“is a Capo within the Cosa Nostra—the same organization your ex-fiancé and now brother-in-law is a part of. If he doesn’t turn you in, it could also lead to more consequences we want no part of. ”
Her face pales further and she, with no warning, darts for the door I slide in front of.
Small fists hit my stomach in a weak attempt to get me to move as she bellows out a piercing screech.
Sympathy for the girl who reminds me a little bit of the Anastasia from years ago, backstage in Poland, has me wanting to step to the side and release her.
Since Zeno will kill me for doing so, I plaster on the meanest expression I can pull together. “Signorina Graves, you have a husband to return to.”