I snapped my mouth shut, and he inspected my foot, then bandaged it. This was becoming a habit with us. Just as I thought that, he pushed to his feet and reached for the wet bandage around my thigh, removing it and inspecting the wound.
“It looks good.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could barely look at him. I pushed to my feet, and he gripped my jaw, sweeping his thumb across my cheekbone that I knew must have been stained pink.
“So fucking innocent, piccola.” His lips twitched before his hand fell away. “It’s still early. You should go back to sleep.”
“I won’t be able to.”
He tilted his head as though waiting for me to elaborate, and before I knew it, I was doing just that.
“The lack of windows…it makes the nightmares worse,” I mumbled. I felt stupid saying that, like I was some little girl afraid of the dark. “When I used to run away, my father would lock me in the basement for a couple of days as punishment.” Why I admitted that, I didn’t know. Maybe I just wanted him to know that I wasn’t totally pathetic. That there was a reason.
“He did what?” His voice became eerily quiet, and I imagined that was how he sounded when he ordered someone’s death.
“I…not like that.” I dropped my gaze to the floor, wishing a hole would open up and swallow me. “It wasn’t a dungeon or anything. Just…isolated. And without windows.”
There was a beat of silence before Gio cleared his throat. “You can sleep in my bed.”
My gaze snapped to his, but before I could refuse, he cut me off.
“I’ve got work to do anyway.”
Then he left, and I could do nothing but ask myself what the hell had just happened.
17
Gio
The thought of Emilia in my bed proved too much. I had to go see Nero anyway, so I left the apartment before the sun had fully risen. The first red hues of dawn reflected off the water as I crossed the bridge out of the city, the harsh notes of Metallica thrumming through my speakers in a vain attempt to chase away my tiredness.
Things were about to get ugly with the mob, and I should have been focused on that, yet my mind kept drifting to Emilia. I asked myself, for what felt like the hundredth time, why the hell I was doing this with her. Why her? What was so special about this one girl that I couldn’t just let it go? I couldn’t answer that any more than I could do the smart thing and send her back. I just couldn’t. A situation I was supposed to be in complete control of was now very much out of control and in the hands of a girl who had no idea the power she truly wielded.
When I pulled up to the enormous glass mansion that was Nero’s Hamptons house, his guards let me in. Unlike my own house, his was quiet. He didn’t need men here to keep it safe. The thought was laughable. I stepped into the kitchen and caught sight of their housekeeper, Margot, at the stove, just as the barrel of a gun kissed the base of my skull. Margot just smiled and shook her head like this was so amusing.
I let out a sigh. “Una.”
Nero’s wife stepped in front of me, a baby propped on her hip as she holstered the weapon at her thigh. Dressed in all black, she looked like she was about to go full tac team. She probably was. If Nero was scary, then Una was terrifying, even with Tatyana on her hip. Individually, their reputations were bloody. Together, Nero and Una were the stuff of nightmares. I could never quite bring myself to trust the Russian assassin, no matter how long she was with my best friend.
“Why are you in my house, Gio?”
“I need to see Nero.”
“He’s getting Dante up. I have to go.” The “kill someone” was unspoken. She kissed the baby’s head and thrust her at me.
I grabbed her reflexively, staring into wide indigo eyes the exact same strange color as her mother’s.
“Tell Nero she’s been changed and fed.”
Margot handed her a to-go coffee mug, and Una scooped up a black holdall that was undoubtedly full of weapons before slipping out the door. Meanwhile, Tatyana was staring at me like I was the definition of stranger danger. I took a seat at the kitchen table and rocked her while I waited. For a moment, a sense of peace washed over me. She was so innocent, so utterly pure and untouched by the atrocities of the world.
“Careful. You look a little too comfortable there.” Nero’s voice had my gaze snapping up. Gone was his usual suit, and in its place was a T-shirt and workout pants. He was no less intimidating with his height and bulk, but it was just…weird. I could never correlate Nero, the ruthless mafia boss I’d known my entire life—even before he was actually boss—with this version of him.