Chapter Twenty-Six
"I need help," Olivia told Gabby, her phone clutched tightly in her hand and pressed close to her ear while she paced the width of the room. Candy and Cain followed at her heels, thinking it was a new game.
"What do you need?" Her voice came back staticky, and Olivia wondered whether she was interrupting something.
"I don't want to bother you if you're busy."
"No bother. I'm just hanging by the pool. Now tell me what you need help with."
Olivia hesitated, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. At twenty-two, she should have experience with this sort of thing. But growing up with no true girlfriends and not a single boyfriend left her extremely lacking in knowledge.
"Livvy? You still there?"
"Um, yeah. Just collecting my thoughts."
A feminine chuckle filled her ear. "Come on, spit it out. It can't be that bad."
And it wasn't. She was making more of it than she should. Taking a deep breath, she decided to just spit it out. Rip the conversation off like a Band-aid. Cut to the chase. Any other idioms she could think of to stall for time? Get down to brass tacks? Okay, now she was being silly. Enough procrastinating. "I want to do something special for Nico for Valentine's Day. I have an idea, but I need help because I've never done anything like it before and don't know where to start."
"What did you have in mind?"
That was easier to spit out. "A quiet dinner, at home not in a crowded restaurant. Something romantic." Nico was always doing nice things for her, and she wanted to reciprocate the sentiment. Let him know she didn't take anything he did for her for granted.
Gabby was silent a minute, and Olivia worried they actually did drop their connection until she heard, "Okay, I've got this. First things first, a trip to Victoria's Secret."
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Olivia said, eyeing the baby-doll nightie Gabby held up for her inspection. "Don't you think if Nico liked this sort of thing, he'd have bought me one by now?"
"As much as I hate the thought of my brother and sex sharing space in my brain simultaneously, if he's like any other man, then trust me when I tell you, he'll love it."
"I don't know," she said, sounding just as uncertain as she felt. "When I said romantic, I was envisioning candlelight and his favorite meal, not something to draw more attention to how fat I'm getting."
Gabby laughed. "You're not fat, you're pregnant. Big difference. And you look gorgeous."
"I guess my self-esteem has been a little low since I started showing."
Gabby frowned. "Nico hasn't said or done anything to make you feel that way, has he?"
"No. No." Olivia was quick to reassure her. "Everything is fine in that department."
"Good because I'd have to nut-punch him, and think how awkward that would be."
Olivia laughed. "Don't mind me. I've just been a little out of sorts lately."
"Well with all those hormones percolating inside you, that's totally understandable."
"I guess I just don't feel very sexy."
"All the more reason to buy this." She waved the baby doll like a flag. "How can anyone not feel sexy wearing red lace. At least try it on."
Olivia laughed, grabbing the hanger from her hand. "Fine. You win. But only because I still need your help."
"I think it's only fair to warn you, I don't cook," Olivia said, turning their shopping cart down the bread aisle. "And I don't mean just the big, fancy stuff, I mean I can hardly make toast."
Gabby giggled. "Don't worry. I'm going to stick around and help. Nico's favorite is Mom's lasagna. I've watched her make it a least a hundred times."
"Maybe I should make a frozen one. I can probably manage that without screwing it up."
Gabby made a big production of pretending to spit on the floor and crossing herself before looking up at the store's ceiling. "She didn't mean that, Grandma Rossella. Please don't strike her down where she stands. Remember, she's carrying your great-grand baby."
Olivia bumped her with her shoulder. "Shut up. It wasn't that bad of an idea."
"Just be lucky my mom wasn't around to hear you say that."
"Noted for the future." Olivia tapped her temple.
Gabby grabbed a roundish loaf off the shelf, tossing it in the cart. "Come on, Livvy, we've got this. Next stop sausage." She gave a little wag of her eyebrows, running ahead of the cart.
Olivia laughed, picking up her pace to catch her.
They were cruising through produce, grabbing stuff to make a salad when Gabby leaned in and whispered, "So does that guy follow you around everywhere?"
Olivia knew she was talking about Al. "If Nico's not with me, yeah."
"I'm surprised Nico lets someone like that anywhere near you."
Olivia peeked over her shoulder to where Al stood by the display of apples before turning a frown on Gabby. "What do you mean?"
"He's hot." Gabby fanned herself with a head of Romaine lettuce.
Olivia scrunched her nose. "He's got the personality of a cardboard cutout."
"Ooh, the strong, silent type. Even better." Gabby wiggled her eyebrows.
Olivia rolled her eyes. "I would think you'd have a bodyguard."
"I did when I was younger, but I got so good at ditching them, Dad gave up. Now, if I had one who looked like Mr. Muscles back there," she discreetly pointed her thumb Al's direction, "I'd let him guard my body anytime he wanted."
Olivia giggled. "You're incorrigible."
"True." She tossed the lettuce in the cart with a wink. "But just think of all the fun advice I'll give you."
They got in the checkout line, and Olivia started putting all their stuff on the conveyor belt while Gabby perused the tabloids. "I cannot believe Bobby Dixon and Angel Starr broke up. What is this world coming to?"
Olivia had no idea who they were and thought it best not to ask. She looked down at all the ingredients overflowing the belt, and asked with a note of skepticism, "Nico said he'd be home around seven. We'll be done cooking all this by then, right?"
Gabby waved her hand dismissively, nose firmly planted in the magazine. "Sure. No problem."
Olivia's eyes wandered from Gabby back to the pile of food, hoping those weren't famous last words.
* * * * *
Things had been quiet. Too quiet. Nico had his men tracking Carmine, Travis, and Elena and... nothing. No unusual activity. It made him antsy. He wasn't stupid. Someone was up to something, but until that someone stepped a toe out of line, he was fucking screwed. He hadn't been surprised when nothing happened over the holidays, people got busy with their families, but now that it was the middle of February, the radio silence had the back of his neck tingling.
The info they'd gotten from the guy who attacked Olivia in the bathroom had been a dead end. They'd never found out who'd hired him, even with all the creative methods Nico employed to extract the name. He felt impotent—a feeling he'd never experienced before—and he didn't fucking like it one bit.
He looked at the clock on the boardroom wall—seven-o-five. The meeting was taking longer than he'd thought it would. He pulled out his phone, firing a quick text to Olivia. He'd told her he'd be home by seven, and he didn't want her to worry.
It was a strange feeling, knowing someone was waiting for him at home. Strange in a good way. He'd never thought he'd have a woman permanently in his life. But now that he did, he really liked her there. Fuck, if he were honest, he loved her there.
"I say we wrap things up for the night." Ted Jenkins, a manager at Conti Industries—one of the Family's legal businesses—stood from the table. "It's Valentine's Day, and I don't know about you all, but my wife is going to be pissed if I get home too late."
There was a mumble of agreement around the table.
Nico sat frozen. Fuck.
He shook hands with the men as they filed out then locked up and made his way to his car. He slid into the front passenger seat beside Marco, shutting the door before pulling out his phone.
"Boss?"
"Yeah," Nico absentmindedly answered, tapping out a text. He hit the send button then looked up.
Marco was focused on the road but started talking when he sensed he had Nico's attention. "I got a message from Al."
Nico's first thought was Olivia, and he realized she'd never answered his text. Panic had his stomach tightening, and he ground out, trying to sound calm, "Everything okay with Olivia?"
Marco's lips twitched, and he realized he hadn't disguised his reaction as well as he thought. Fucking wonderful.
"She's fine. But I thought you should know, she's been up to something today with your sister."
That got Nico's attention. "What?"
"According to Al, they went shopping at the mall then went to the grocery store. Then spent a few hours cooking something in the kitchen."
It didn't take a genius to put it all together. He sat back in his seat and sighed. "Valentine's Day."
Marco figured it out too. "Yeah." After a few beats of silence, he said, "We can stop by the store and pick up some flowers."
"No." Nico wasn't going to give her some cheap, last-minute flowers.
The house was quiet as he made his way through the door, and no barking dogs skidded to a halt at his feet on the marble tile—an occurrence he'd come to expect.
He spied the note sitting on the bottom stair, and the path of rose petals that led to the top. He snatched up the card and flipped it around to see Be My Valentine written in his sister's loopy cursive.
His fucking sister. With a sigh, he continued up the stairs.
The petals extended past the stairs to their bedroom door. The lights were off with just the glow of lit candles spaced far enough apart to light the way. He didn't see her at first, curled up on the sofa in the sunken portion of the room. The coffee table had been pushed away to make room for a small dining table set for two. Long tapered candles were aglow on it, as well.
He made his way over and stood by the side of the sofa, looking down at his wife. Eyes closed. Breaths even. Sound asleep. He wasn't sure what she was wearing. Something red and lace and sexy as hell. The material barely covered her tits, and a big satin bow sat right under them. Thin, almost see-through, material fell over her stomach ending at her hips, revealing—in her curled position—her bare ass showing a peek of a red thong.
He didn't make a sound, but something woke her, and she snapped her eyes open. She blinked a few times, staring up at him while coming fully awake. He knew the moment her sleepy brain came into focus because she gave him one of her special fucking smiles. "You're home," she said, sitting up.
"Sorry, I'm late." He looked over his shoulder at the table. "You've been busy."
Her cheeks turned rosy and she shrugged. "I had help."
Yeah, his fucking sister. "Listen, I, um..." He faltered trying to find the right words without hurting her feelings. "I didn't realize what day it was."
A look of hurt clouded her eyes before she could mask it and something twisted in his chest. And then he got pissed. Fucking big name corporations and their money making propaganda, inventing useless holidays just to line their pockets.
She shrugged again. "It's not a big deal."
But it was. To her, at least. And that pissed him off even more. She had expected him to remember and acknowledge it in some way. But that wasn't who he was, wasn't what he'd ever be.
He was never going to be the man she wanted him to be.
Frustrated by his shortcomings, he did the only thing he knew to express his feelings. Placing his hands on the back of the couch for leverage, he leaned forward, capturing a kiss. He sucked on her lower lip before spearing her with his tongue, the force of his kiss causing her to grab him or fall back. He relished the feel of her fingers digging into his shoulders through the material of his jacket but loved it even more when it was her nails against his bare skin. Later. They had plenty of time.
His lips traveled along her jaw to her neck, sucking on the skin there and breathing in her scent.
"I made lasagna." He heard her breathy whisper in his ear. "Well, technically, Gabby made the lasagna." She moaned when he hit the spot behind her ear. "But, um, I helped."
She clutched at his shoulders tighter, trying to bring herself closer to him. He obliged her by pulling her nipple into his mouth and felt it peak even through the layer of lace.
"It's, um, your mom's recipe. Gabby said it was your favorite."
He needed to get them off the subject of his sister and mother and fucking lasagna. He raised his head from her chest meeting her dilated and glassy eyes. "Tesoro?"
"Hmm?" she asked still a little dazed.
"I'm not hungry for lasagna."
"You're not?"
"No." His hands skimmed up her thighs finding the practically non-existent waistband of her panties. "I'm in the mood for your pussy." He yanked and easily snapped the elastic. "And I'm planning on feasting until I'm full."
Throwing her legs over his shoulders, he pulled her down the couch until her head rested on the seat cushion, her ass in the air, and her pussy level with his face. Fucking perfect.
The material of her nightie fell away, revealing the roundness of her belly, and his cock strained against his pants, begging for an avenue of escape. "Hold on to me with your legs." When he felt her squeeze and knew she was secure, he released her hips, his hands flying to his belt. He had his cock out in a matter of seconds, fisting it to stop the ache. It didn't fucking work, but it helped a little, at least enough he didn't think he would come right then on the spot.
"Fuck. Do you have any idea how fucking turned on I am right now? Staring at your pussy glistening with your wetness, at my baby rounding your stomach, and your perfect fucking tits, straining against that red fucking lace."
"No. But if I had to guess by the number of times you'd said fucking, I'd say very fucking turned on."
And fuck if that didn't make him chuckle. "Hearing the word fucking come out of your sweet mouth, not sure whether I should spank you or kiss you."
Her legs tightened on his shoulders as she raised her hips. "You can always do both."
"And what? Neglect my pussy?" he asked, sliding his fingers through her wetness before sinking them into her tight heat.
She arched her hips higher and groaned, "No. We wouldn't want to do that."
Done playing, his mouth engaged in the festivities, his tongue licking through her folds before clamping onto her clit. He sucked the little nub, pulling it through his teeth at the same time his fingers moved in and out of her heat, his hand becoming soaked with her wetness.
He gripped himself once more, a little awkwardly with his left hand, but he didn't fucking care. He needed something—anything—wrapped around his dick.
He looked up. Olivia's face was flushed, and a light sheen of sweat, reflected by the candlelight, glistened on her brow. "You need to find it for me soon, tesoro. I'm not going to last much longer, and I don't want to come on the floor."
His fingers fell from her as she dropped her legs from his shoulders.
"What the fuck?"
But she didn't respond. Instead, he watched as she flipped herself around, planting her knees on the seat cushion and her arms on the back of the couch then gave her ass a shake in invitation.
She didn't need to ask twice. Gripping her hips, he slammed into her.
And found fucking heaven.