Chapter Twenty-Six
Speak when you are angry
and you will make the best
speech you will ever regret.
Ambrose Bierce
Even though Nick lets me take the bed while he takes the small couch, his presence still bothers me enough to affect my sleep. Tossing and turning all night, I barely sleep, and when I finally do, my eyes are only closed for a few hours before I’m waking up again, courtesy of a groaning Jax.
“Can you shut him the heck up?” I politely ask Nick, who’s laying on the couch, playing Angry Birds on his phone while Jax’s musical of groans is getting louder by the second.
I take one of the extra pillows on the bed and throw it at the couch. It bounces off Nick’s head and onto the floor. He grabs it and tucks it under his head, using it as a pillow, which makes me realize that last night, he slept without a blanket and a pillow.
Now, I feel even guiltier because Nick barely fits on the couch. His long legs hang over the edge, and the width of his strong body barely fits this narrow couch. In fact, there’s more of his body off of the couch than on it.
I remind myself that it doesn’t matter if he sleeps uncomfortably, because 1) I’m not supposed to like him, 2) I don’t like him and 3) I’ll never like him. But… I can’t help the twinge of guilt that envelops my body, so I endeavor not to argue too much with him this morning to make up for it.
“I tried. The man,” Nick says, emphasizing the word in a way that makes me suspect that he thinks the term is hardly appropriate, “can moan his way through anything.”
I sigh and get up. The clock on the wall reads twelve past six in the morning, which basically means that I have a long day ahead of me. And I don’t want to spend it listening to Jax complaining all day. So, I enter the kitchen, grab a nice-sized nectarine from the fruit bowl and walk over to Jax.
He eyes me warily and with good reason.
I lift the nectarine in front of his face and say in a tone I would use on a toddler, “This is to stay in your mouth until you can prove to me that you can be quiet. Okay?”
He shakes his head furiously, but I don’t care. Behind me, Nick lets out a sexy laugh that sends a series of chills up and down my spine. I ignore the feeling and continue on with my plan, shoving the nectarine into Jax’s reluctant mouth while being careful not to actually touch the guy.
I turn to Nick. “He smells.”
Nick gets up and grabs a bottle on the floor behind him. It’s Febreeze. I roll my eyes as I watch him spray it all over Jax, and now the disgusting stench smells like a disgusting stench mixed with Febreeze.
I walk towards the bathroom, and over my shoulder, I say, “I’m going to shower. You know, how normal people get clean.”
I close the door before I can hear Nick’s response. After stripping out of my clothes and throwing them into a hamper in the bathroom, I wait for the water to warm up before getting in the marble shower.
Not even five minutes later, I hear the door opening. Alarmed, I peak my head out of the curtain, only to find Nick with a toothbrush in hand. Facing the mirror, he’s not even looking at me and is acting as if being in the bathroom while I’m naked is no big deal.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
If I was the cursing type, I would have said, what the fucking fuck do you fucking think you’re fucking doing? But I haven’t cursed since I made a promise to mold myself into the model parent after Mina was taken away. Plus, I don’t think four variations of “fuck” are enough to express my alarm. I need at least a baker’s dozen.
“I’m hungry,” he says.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “Okay… go eat.”
“I need to brush my teeth first, and who knows how long you’ll take in here. I didn’t want to wait.”
I roll my eyes but close the curtain and try to shower. But I can’t. All I can think of is how naked I am and how close to me he is. My nipples harden at the thought, and goosebumps rise all over my flesh despite the heat of the water.
I eye the shower curtain, knowing that neither of us can see through it, but needing to check nevertheless. Closing my eyes, I allow myself to focus on the proximity between Nick and my naked body, and I let my hands drift lower down my body until my fingers brush against my clit. Startled, I jolt at the sensation, not use to ever enjoying touching myself. It usually feels awkward and uncomfortable, but this… This was magic.
From the other side of the curtain, I hear Nick mutter something that sounds like “everything okay?” with a mouth full of toothpaste.
“Yep! Dropped the soap,” I lie and force myself to behave.
I stand under the showerhead, waiting for him to leave and trying to focus on anything other than how embarrassingly affected I am from being naked in his proximity, even though there’s nothing remotely sexual about this situation aside from the naughty thoughts I shouldn’t be entertaining.
A few minutes later, I hear Nick turn on the sink and spit toothpaste out of his mouth. I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “How are you feeling?”
Still behind the curtain, I answer, “This is hardly the appropriate place to be having this conversation.”
“Do you want me to leave?” There’s amusement in his tone. “So you can touch yourself in peace?”
My jaw drops and cheeks heat in embarrassment. “I wasn’t—” I begin to protest before cutting myself off, deciding that he’d see past any lie I’d tell anyway. I sigh. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” I say, because I don’t want him to think his presence here is bothering me, even though it is getting me hot and bothered. And apparently, we’re both already too aware of that. I hope to distract from what just happened by answering his other question, “I’m feeling… as good as I can feel given the circumstances.”
After a few seconds of silence, he says, all traces of humor gone from his voice, “I’m sorry that you couldn’t see Mina.”
And darn it, his genuine tone has the anger and embarrassment in me receding.
I don’t reply to that, because there’s nothing I can say to it. While playing the blame game is fruitless, I still feel as if he’s partially to blame for this mess. And it’s not okay that I couldn’t see Mina, but I don’t want to talk about it.
I am, however, willing to talk about some aspects of yesterday. “What happened to the guy you killed yesterday?”
I’m not sure if he’ll answer my questions, since I’m pretty sure whatever happened yesterday isn’t legal, but I wait anyway. It’s not like I’ll tell anyone. I’m not innocent in all of this. When I brought in the groceries yesterday, I was contaminating the crime scene. I don’t even have to be a law student to realize that.
He surprises me by answering me truthfully. “There was a cleaning crew that came to deal with it while we were asleep.”
“Won’t people ask questions when they realize he’s missing?”
“Probably,” he says, which should concern me, but the indifference in his tone eases my worries of getting caught. “But he’s not from around here, so it won’t be the first place the police will look. And that’s if they are alerted.”
He sounds so certain that they won’t be alerted that I let it go.
“You said yesterday that you know him… How?”
He sighs. “I go by Nick now, but I was born Niccolaio Cristiano Andretti.”
I still at his words.
He’s an Andretti?!
I did some mafia research after I got on Asher’s bad side over the school year. There are whole websites dedicated to the five American syndicates, kind of like a Wikipedia for the mob. And in every single post that mentions the Romano and Andretti families together, there’s always mention of the longstanding feud between the two families. A longstanding and bloody feud.
The Andrettis and Romanos are like the Capulets and Montagues, only dangerous. I don’t know why they hate each other, but I do know that the hatred is strong. And an Andretti being in Romano territory should be tantamount to war…
Yet, Niccolaio isn’t just in Romano territory. He’s embedded in it. From what I’ve seen and gathered, he’s friends with Asher, and he mentioned that Vincent Romano helped acquire this safe house for us.
There’s a story behind this, and even though I’m dying to know, I don’t ask, because I don’t allow myself to stroke the flame of my curiosity regarding Niccolaio. I suspect that getting to know Niccolaio won’t help keep my lust at bay.
And his name. I knew that Nick doesn’t suit him. It’s too plain and ordinary, but Niccolaio Cristiano Andretti… It’s exotic and sexy and everything that I’ve come to realize Nick Niccolaio is.
He continues, “I lived in Andretti territory until I was twenty and had to leave. While I lived in Florida, I was friends with this guy named Ignazio. Naz. He’s the one I shot yesterday. Anyway, his dad was a friend of my dad, so we pretty much grew up together. A few years before I left Florida, Naz accidentally shot a civilian and got sent to Maryland, a border territory state.
“When I left Florida, I lived in Maryland for a little, and while I was there, I was working at a club. I was outside taking a break when I saw Naz. He and a friend of his had their guns out, and they were going to shoot Asher.”
When I gasp, he ignores it and continues, “He was going to kill Asher, but if he did that, the people with Asher would have killed him… So, I stepped in. I killed Naz’s friend, because I didn’t want him to risk getting a shot at Asher while I took care of Naz. Naz never forgave me for that.”
He lowers his voice, and I think he says, “And other things,” but at that low volume, I can’t hear him over the sound of the showerhead.
“You saved Asher Black,” I say, wonder in my voice.
My words hang silently and boldly in the air, and we let them simmer in the stillness as I try to absorb the profundity of my statement. He saved Asher Black, one of the most powerful men in the world, let alone this city.
That’s huge.
After a few more minutes of silence, I take a deep breath before asking the real question I’ve been wanting to ask, “Why are people trying to kill you?”
“There’s a hit out on me.”
“A hit?!” The disbelief in my voice is clear.
“Five million dollars.”
And for a disgusting second, my mind wonders what I can do with five million dollars.
I can find a home.
I can hire a lawyer.
I can file for custody of Mina.
Five million dollars would solve all of my problems, except I can’t kill this man.
I may not be the best person in the world, but I’m certainly not a killer. Not only can I not hurt this man, but I also don’t want to.
I’ve finally found a line I’d draw in what I thought was an infinite list of things I’d do for Mina… and I hate Niccolaio for being it.