CHAPTER 22
NOW
NICKY
“Nick.” Rico knocks against the door jamb, his voice drawing my attention up from where I’m seated at my desk.
Something’s off. His typical lighthearted demeanor is unusually subdued. Eyeing me warily, he casts a brief glance back over his shoulder before his hesitant gaze finds mine once more. He swallows, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple causing his words to momentarily catch in his throat.
“What’s up?” I ask, lifting my chin to him in question.
“I need you to stay calm.”
Tossing my pen down beside my computer, I lean back in my chair, pinning him with a glare. “Well, that’s not foreboding at all.” Pressing my palm against the side of my chin, I apply pressure, relieving some of the tension in my neck with a quick pop. “All right.” I sigh, shutting my laptop and shifting it off to the side. “Who fucked up?”
Rico remains situated in the doorway, his fingers anxiously drumming against the frame. Fuck, is he nervous?
“Rico,” I prompt, my patience wearing thin. “Spit it out. I got shit to do.”
Yeah, like check my phone for the five hundredth time since I received confirmation that Daph’s flowers were delivered today. She must still be pissed if she’s not even gonna say “thank you.”
Rico’s head swivels a few more times, alternating between me and whatever’s distracting him in the hallway. With a steadying breath, he enters my office, bypassing the chairs to stand in front of my desk.
“I’m gonna need your gun, Nick.”
My body tenses. “Rico,” I warn. “For a guy who wants me to stay calm, you’re going about it the complete wrong way.”
“Do you trust me?”
I shoot forward, my elbows coming to lean atop my workspace as I point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t pull that manipulative shit with me right now.”
“I’m not manipulating you.”
“You are! You know whatever you’re about to tell me is gonna piss me off, and you’re exploiting your emotional connection with me as a way to control my response. This is no different than the shit you pulled when we were kids.” I slap my hand against the wooden surface. “I’m not twelve anymore, Rico. It’s not warranted.”
“Stop acting like I have ever done anything in our almost twenty years of friendship other than ensure your best interests.” Planting his palms onto my desk, he leans forward to bring his eyes level with mine. “There is nothing I wouldn’t protect you from. That includes yourself.”
“If you do not explain to me what’s going on, the only thing that’s going to need protection in a minute is you.”
“Gun first,” he repeats, calmly extending his hand into the space between us.
We stare at one another in silence, each of us refusing to submit. Our muted battle wages on for the better part of a minute, until the steady ticking of the antique clock on my shelf becomes almost deafening amidst the dead air around us.
At last, I relent. “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Fine. Here.”
Reaching down to the left, my grip tugs at the middle drawer of my desk. Thrusting my hand inside, I withdraw my weapon, which I then shove into his waiting palm.
Lifting the back of his shirt, Rico tucks the gun into his waistband before scrubbing a hand over his face. “Meu Deus. Dá-me for?as.” With a steadying breath, Rico returns to the door. Bracing one hand against the frame, he leans out to signal someone in the hall with the other.
I stand in anticipation, stepping out from behind my desk ready to intercept whatever fucknut is going to need my foot in his ass. However, the last thing I’m expecting to see when the individual in question rounds the corner… is her.
She slips in beside Rico, her already slender stature practically curled in on itself, making her appear almost nonexistent in the space. Daph may only be 5’5”, but her personality commands a room. The girl in front of me? I barely recognize her. The sight has my steps faltering, my feet rooting to the floor as my whole world comes to a standstill.
I stand unblinking, my eyes zeroed in on the stark contrast between her typically fair skin and the various shades of purple currently marring the right side of her face. The swelling, while not excessive, is clearly noticeable. Both eyes are puffy, yet the upper and lower lids of the right side seem slightly worse for the wear. A small split cracks the plush pouty cushion of her lower lip, its presence made all the more evident by the subtle tremble she’s fighting so hard to control.
“I…” she speaks, her eyes drawn downward to the floor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be home when he got back, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“He’s dead,” I breathe, my words only a fraction louder than a whisper.
Daph’s head snaps up, mouth agape.
“Nick,” Rico warns, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.
“DEAD!” I roar, the sudden shattering of my calm fa?ade causing Daph to jump. “I want that motherfucker chained to the floor in Killington in an hour.”
Rico grimaces, his expression apologetic. “You know we can’t do that.”
I spin, snatching up a crystal tumbler from the corner of my desk and launching it to the opposite wall, where it shatters. Rico’s arm sweeps out to the side, pulling Daph against his chest to protect her from the small shards of glass that ricochet around the space.
The sight of him shielding her—the way he protectively pulls her to him without fear of the repercussions—causes the last remaining tether of my control to snap. I lurch forward, shoving him back as I envelop her in my embrace. Cradling her face against my chest, I secure her form to mine. My arm around her waist tightens to ensure there isn’t an ounce of space between us, allowing the heat of her body to seep into my skin.
Dropping my face to her hair, I breathe in the sweet scent of strawberries before pressing a kiss atop her head. Having her in such close proximity helps to temper the homicidal rage swelling within me. I continue to breathe in her scent. Once, twice, three times, before releasing the nape of her neck in favor of wrapping both arms around her. Turning my attention back to Rico, I calmly issue the demand once more.
“You bring me Lucian Devoreaux within the hour, or I’m going hunting. And when I find him? It’ll be on sight. Your choice.”
Rico shakes his head, preparing to voice his opposition once more when Daphne gives me pause.
“Nicky, you can’t.” My eyes are drawn down to hers, the sight of the still darkening bruises carving my heart from my chest. “Rico’s right. The Devoreauxs are too prominent a family. You can’t take a shot at Lucian without some form of repercussions. That’s not why I came.” Pressing her palms against my chest, she tries to place space between us. It’s a weak attempt. One I do not entertain.
Gaze still locked with hers, I bring my hand to lightly stroke her face, careful to be mindful of her injuries. “Why’d you come, demon? Why’d you run to me?”
Her emerald irises seem to sparkle behind the shine of her unshed tears. “Because the second he hit me I realized I have no idea who I am anymore. And so I ran to the one person who always seems to remind me.”
My mind blanks out. All forms of coherent thought and reasoning cease to exist as the image of a six-year-old Daphne takes shape front and center in my brain. She stands before me, awkwardly pulling at the hem of her grey funeral dress before glancing up at me and extending her hand.
The image morphs. Suddenly Daph’s nine, standing on the front steps of my parents’ house as I descend them to meet her, the breath whooshing from my lungs when she looks to me with a smile.
The scenes move faster now. Daph dancing through my parents’ kitchen. Learning how to drive alongside my sister. Squealing with laughter as I toss her in the pool. Her quick-witted comebacks for each of my smartass remarks.
An endless stream of images races through my mind, detailing the years our lives have been intertwined. All seventeen of them. They string together to form one of the main storylines of my life. The perfectly preserved memories I strive to safeguard—the ones where we were together.
I dip low, scooping her up to cradle her as I stalk past Rico and make my way for the stairs.
“Nick!” he calls after me, though I continue on, unwilling to spare him another second while she’s in my arms.
Daph remains quiet as I reach the top of the landing before turning to head down the corridor that leads to my master suite. I cross the threshold, kicking the door closed behind me and carrying her into my bathroom where I deposit her on the Carrera marble of my oversized vanity.
Bending down, I retrieve a clean washcloth from the stack I keep stashed away below the sink. Turning on the faucet beside her, I drench it in cool water before wringing it out and bringing it to her face. Taking her chin in my hand, I apply the cool rag to the cut on her lip, my own jaw tightening when Daph winces in response.
The sight of her brings back old memories, one I’ve worked hard to suppress. Images of her broken and bruised on the floor flood my mind, my brain flickering between the past and the present until it all bleeds together into one unescapable nightmare.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
I continue to dab at the small red slit, my eyes fixated on the lush curve of her lips that somehow manage to short-circuit my brain every time we share a room. The need to taste her consumes me, drowning me in a wave of madness that I’m no longer strong enough to fight.
Lowering the cloth, my hands come to rest on either side of her thighs as my face moves within inches of hers.
“You need a reminder of who you are, demon?” I discard the rag into the sink, allowing my now unencumbered grip to encircle her waist. With a swift tug, I pull her into me, her legs instinctively wrapping around my hips. Daphne stares up at me with bated breath, eager for my response. “You’re mine.”
My lips press to hers—softly, so I don’t hurt her. The kiss is tender, chaste, yet it breathes life back into my lungs. My body hums beneath the surface, overcome with feelings of euphoria as I succumb to a high I’ve long since feared lost.
She melts into my touch, allowing her nails to skate up the length of my back, taking my shirt with them in the process. My tongue slips out, greedily seeking to cure myself of this insatiable hunger, though when she mirrors the gesture, caressing mine with her own, I know my cravings will never subside.
Despite the boundaries I impose, or the wedges I drive between us, my obsession with her only grows. It overwhelms me, wreaking havoc amidst the order, reducing my world to ruin.
And yet, with each passing encounter, I can’t help but think how I’d rather dance with her amongst the rubble than ever stand alone atop the kingdom.
Daph’s grip tightens on the fabric at the back of my tee, momentarily breaking our kiss as she pulls it up and over my head before my lips find hers once more. I continue to kiss her, drunk with lust as I move to place slow, sensual kisses along the slender column of her throat. Burying my face into the crook of her neck, I inhale deep before nipping at the skin of her collarbone.
“Why’d you send those flowers, Nick?” she whispers just as I press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.
I still, considering how to respond when the significance of her question suddenly dawns on me. “Is that why he hit you?”
Her body tenses against me, and I work to temper the jolt of rage that pulses through my veins. “Daph. Answer me.” My voice remains low, my tone morphing into something sinister, though the hate I feel in this moment is not reserved for Lucian alone.
I know what she’s about to confirm. I did this to her. Me. Once again, I am a source of pain in Daph’s life.
“It isn’t your fault.”
I scoff, stepping back to turn away. Her hand shoots out, gripping hold of my forearm to prevent my retreat.
“Nicky, I…” Her words trail off, echoing within the confines of the marble walls as I look to her in question. She sits, still perched atop the vanity, her eyes suddenly held captive by something at my side. Following her gaze downward, my own comes to rest on the small red lip imprint tattooed in the shape of a kiss to my ribs. It typically remains concealed, its existence unknown to everyone except her.
“You ever gonna tell me who she was?” Daph asks on a swallow, attempting to conceal the pain.
My eyes squeeze shut in deliberation before resigning to a subtle shake of my head. “Some things are better left in the past.”
She continues to stare at it, her fingers twitching when she releases me to reach forward. My hand shoots up, carefully encircling her wrist to prevent her from advancing any further.
Her eyes snap to mine, lashing fluttering as though breaking free from a dream. “Did you love her?”
I watch the spark of hope ignite within her at the possibility I’ll say no. That there isn’t a woman walking around in the world who owns my heart. For a moment, I consider saying as much to appease her. It would certainly make things less complicated for everyone involved. Yet, when I focus on the words, fighting to force the lie from my mouth, the silence only stretches on between us.
“Come on, demon.” I stroke her hair, tucking several pieces back behind her ear. “I’ll DoorDash some of those tacos you like so much.”
She blinks up at me, the light dimming in her eyes as she does, though forces a smile. “That’s okay. I think I’d rather just take a nap.”
Taking hold of her face, I tip her head back toward the light to examine her for signs of a concussion.
“Any headache, blurry vision, sensitivity to light?”
She shakes her head.
“What about confusion? You know what day it is, and where you are?”
“Sure. Just another Thursday at some asshole’s house.” She winks with her good eye, and I release her with a smile. Hopping down from the counter, she pushes up to her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to my cheek. As she moves past me, my fingers interlace with hers, halting her retreat.
“You’re not going back there.”
“No, I’m not,” she assures me, her hand offering mine a light squeeze. “I’ll figure out the logistics of it all tomorrow, but Luc and I are done.”
My heart skips what feels like are several beats before pounding loudly in my chest.
“Anything you need, demon. Me, the boys, J… we’re here for you.”
“Please don’t tell Jonsie.” Daph worries her lip. “The second she finds out, it’s going to take the grace of God to keep her from killing him, and considering she’s dating his best friend, that’s only gonna cause problems in her relationship. She deserves a chance at being happy, Nick. Don’t rob her of that.”
It’s possibly the only argument she could have ever presented that would have me obliging her request. Jones would undoubtedly sabotage her relationship in defense of her best friend. Which is why I find myself issuing a hesitant nod, reluctantly agreeing to her request.
“Take my bed.” I gesture toward the other room with my chin. “I’ll check on you in a little bit.”
“Thank you.” She smiles warmly before turning to exit the room.
My eyes follow her, and when I enter the bedroom several minutes later to find her drifting off to sleep in my bed, something clicks into place. My chest swells at the sight, a wave of serenity washing over me, as I wonder what it would be like to end every day feeling so at peace.