Ryder's Claim (Mafia Heirs 2)

"Excuse me." Marzia pushes her chair away from the table and abruptly leaves the room. We all watch with raised eyebrows as Adrian leaves, following in her footsteps without so much as checking on his fiancée.

I understand – he's infatuated with his little captive. But now Nicoletta looks sad and teary-eyed, and I'm once again left to deal with the mess my older brother created.

Just then, the maids bring out a birthday cake with candles. Nicoletta's smile doesn't falter, and I wonder whether I'm the only one who can see the trace of tears in her eyes. She's emotional, but hides it well.

We all clap as she blows out her candles, but she doesn't want a slice of cake. Instead, she politely asks Father if she can be excused. After he gives her permission, she quietly slips away from the dining table without speaking to me again. And now I feel like the fool rushing after her – just like my brother and Marzia. But I can't resist. I want to help my brother's blushing bride.

In the hallway, there's no sign of Adrian or Marzia. The halls are quiet, even the maids have gone to sleep, and there's no one to witness my transgression as I walk up to Nicoletta's room.

In front of her door, I battle with my decision. Should I go inside? Once again, I'm reminded of her birthday; of the fact she's eighteen now, and I'm not a prick for wanting her. Swallowing thickly, I rap my knuckles against the door, waiting for her to reply. She doesn't.

Is she inside? My brows furrow at the prospect of her wandering around the mansion alone. It's not a safe place, not even with all our guards. I try the handle, but Nicoletta's door is locked. What does that mean?

Pulling a master key from my pocket, I unlock Nicoletta's door and let myself slip in quietly, without being seen.

In her quarters, the curtains are drawn and only the lamp on her nightstand is on. Nicoletta, my principessa, sits in front of her bed, kneeling with her hands clasped together in prayer. She seems so devoted to it, she doesn't even hear me enter, and I wait for her to finish before speaking up.

"Why did you leave dinner?"

The blonde startles at the sound of my voice. As she turns to face me, still kneeling, her cheeks are flushed and she looks more beautiful than ever. My heart tightens in my chest just from looking at her. She's so breathtakingly beautiful, I can barely take my eyes off her.

"I didn't feel well," she whispers, picking herself up from the floor. "What are you doing here, Ryder?"

"I don't know." For once I'm telling her the truth. I glance around the room, making sure nobody's here. "I felt bad for you."

"Oh," she smiles sadly, letting out a bitter laugh. "Because of Adrian and that girl, Marzia?"

It's hard to say no since that's exactly the reason I felt bad, so I don't answer, not wanting Nicoletta to feel even worse.

"Trust me, I'll be fine," she mutters. "Papa has raised me well. I still have my manners and I won't question your brother about the girl. It's plainly obvious he's in love with her. Don't you think?"

Her inquisitive eyes turn to mine. It would be so hard to say no – we both know the truth. So, I merely shrug. "It doesn't matter. He shouldn't treat you this way, it's not right. You're to be his bride, after all."

"I suppose." She sighs, running her fingers down her nightdress. It's shorter than the outfits she usually wears, and I find my mouth watering at the sight of her shapely, long legs. "I should get some rest. And you should leave, Ryder."

"But it's your birthday," I counter. "Your eighteenth, an important one."

"I had a cake," she reminds me. "And everyone got me expensive, beautiful presents. What else could I possibly wish for?"

So much remains unspoken between us, but I can't broach the subject yet. Instead, I busy myself asking more questions. Anything to prolong this moment before I have to leave her bedroom.

"Did you make a wish when you blew out your candles?" I ask her softly.

"I did," she nods.

"What was it?"

"I can't tell you, or it won't come true," she says with a weak smile. "But I make the same wish every year."

"And every night when you pray?"

She smiles again, and this time, it's more genuine. "How did you know about that?"

"I know you better than you think," I mutter, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You should get to bed, principessa."

She nods, crawling under the sheets without another word. I tuck her in, watching her. Her eyes are heavy and she's already drifting off to sleep. The thought of her birthday, her age and her sinful body underneath the duvet is pushed aside as my caring side comes out. Right now, Nicoletta Carlucci doesn't need a lover. She needs a friend.