I flushed, first from his hard words, then because of his angry expression. Something in his eyes, however, lit up my insides in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment over his words. My gaze slid lower. The left side of his jaw and lower cheek were red.
I moved toward him and touched the spot. “It’s swelling.”
His hand soared up, clamping his fingers around my wrist. I froze and swallowed hard because his eyes were like embers, and my body became aflame. His grip around my wrist hurt a lot. “Nevio,” I whispered, and he loosened his hold, dropping my wrist as if it burned him.
He straightened, bringing us closer. I tilted my head back to look at him. The way he still looked down at me made me want to run. I could tell this might end in a very bad way. How could it not? He smelled of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol, not smells I liked, but beneath it was Nevio’s very own musky, herby scent caught me in its trap. I licked my lips. Nevio took a step closer and gripped my chin but not in a gentle way. “Did you dress up like that for someone special?”
His voice made me want to run from him and get closer to him at the same time. Something was entirely wrong with me. “Don’t you know?” I whispered. He must know.
“What I know is that this house is full of bad people, Rory, and I’m the worst.” He bent down so our eyes met. “Stay away from our parties. Stay away from me.” He reached for my blouse and buttoned up the top buttons, then he undid the knot above my navel and tugged the hem down so it covered my belly. “That’s you.”
I winced, my cheeks burning fiercely from acute mortification. I didn’t say anything because I was at a loss for words, like I often was around Nevio.
“Now go downstairs, grab Lotti, and get the fuck outta here and back into your comfy bed. Tell Massimo to drive you, and if I see you around when I go back downstairs, there will be hell to pay.”
My lips parted, and I felt the treacherous sting of tears in my eyes. I breathed through my nose, determined not to cry in front of Nevio.
He scanned my eyes, too observant yet cruel, bared his teeth, and stepped back. “Get back home, Rory. You’re in my way. I need to find a bitch to suck me off.”
I wanted to scream and rage, to give him a really nasty piece of my mind, but as usual, nothing passed my lips. I whirled around and stumbled down the staircase. A few tears trailed down my cheeks, but I wiped them off before someone could see them. Carlotta perched on the couch’s armrest, Massimo was beside her, and one of her legs was pressed against one of his. I could tell they were caught up in one of their very common discussions about what they believed or, in Massimo’s case, didn’t.
I didn’t want to interrupt them. I slinked over to the kitchen, hoping to find an alcoholic beverage I could tolerate. I hated the taste of most of them. But I wanted to get drunk or at least tipsy right now to forget my conversation with Nevio. Part of me wanted to go back upstairs to confront him and give him a piece of my mind for the first time ever, but that would have required a level of inebriation I definitely wouldn’t acquire tonight. I hated my Goody Two-shoes ass sometimes. I froze in the doorway to the kitchen. Alessio was kissing a girl. He immediately pulled away from her, alert as always, and met my gaze. I blushed furiously and stuttered an apology, then fled the room as if I’d caught them naked doing the rodeo. If I couldn’t even handle seeing someone kissing, how was I supposed to ever make a move toward Nevio? Though after tonight, that was a distant dream anyway.
Maybe my reaction to public displays of affection was why Nevio didn’t see me as a woman but a little girl. If I couldn’t handle seeing something as harmless as a kiss, how would I be a part of the dirty deeds Nevio was undoubtedly up to? I wasn’t sure I was ready for Nevio’s level, but I wanted to be.
Eventually, I settled for a vodka-O, though the orange juice hardly masked the taste of the alcohol. After a few sips, my gaze caught Carlotta’s. She got up from the armrest and quickly made her way over to me. Massimo’s intent gaze followed her the entire way as if it had been glued to her back. I wished Nevio would regard me with that level of interest, though Massimo always freaked me out a little.
Carlotta pursed her lips as she regarded my drink. “Last time you tried vodka, you threw up behind a bush.”
I grimaced, remembering Nevio’s amusement over the incident. That had been one of my many embarrassing moments around him. I was a mess. “How do you know it’s not just orange juice?”
Carlotta gave me a pointed look. “Because your expression tells me you need something stronger.”
I let out a laugh. She knew me too well. I gave a small shrug.
“You and Massimo seemed quite cozy.”
“We were just talking.” Carlotta’s dark brows pulled together, and her eyes moved back to where Massimo sat on the sofa, now in conversation with a guy I didn’t know. But he looked straight at her as if he could feel her gaze. She smiled and gave a small wave. He nodded.
I scoffed. “He wants to do more than talking.”
Carlotta shook her head slowly and turned back to me. “What about you and Nevio? I thought you wanted to talk to him.”
I took another sip from my drink and almost gagged.
“Maybe it’s for the best that it’s not working out between Nevio and you. He’s the monster under your bed,” Carlotta said as if I didn’t know.
“He has no intention of going anywhere near my bed, so you don’t have to worry. You’re closer to having a monster under your bed than I am.”
Carlotta’s gaze moved back to Massimo, and her cheeks turned pink.
I sighed. “Go back to your monster.”
“He’s not…”
I wasn’t sure what she wanted to deny. That he was a monster. Or that he was hers. Neither would have been convincing, so it was good she’d stopped herself.
“I should stay with you. Or better yet, we should go home and watch a movie instead of staying here. I’m sure Massimo would take us home if I asked him.”
I remembered how Nevio had ordered the same thing, and my body bristled against the notion. “No,” I said firmly. “Go to Massimo, and I’ll talk to Alessio. I saw him in the kitchen.”
Carlotta gripped my hand. “You come with me. Massimo likes you. He’ll be happy to talk to us both.”
“I don’t want to be the fifth wheel,” I muttered. I had too much practice with the role. Most of our lives Carlotta and I had been kind of fifth wheels when we hung around the Falcone mansion. Nevio, Massimo and Alessio had always had an inseparable bond, and even Greta had somehow been part of it.
“You won’t,” she said firmly.
“Aurora,” Massimo greeted me neutrally as I stopped at the sofa.
I gave him an apologetic smile, but his brows snapped together as if he didn’t understand why, so I took a gulp from my drink instead. I allowed my gaze to flit around the massive living room. I wasn’t even sure whom it belonged to. Many faces were familiar, such as the sons and daughters of Camorrista or people I knew from school. Most were older, college-age like Alessio, Nevio, and Massimo.
It still felt strange to consider that I would be in college this fall. If Nevada State accepted me for their nursing program, which was very likely considering who my father was. A part of me wasn’t sure it was the right move. I would take the place of someone who needed a degree to work. I could work as a nurse or doctor if I let the Camorra doctors and nurses teach me what they knew. I’d never be allowed to work in a non-mob hospital anyway.
“Why aren’t you in college? You’re a genius,” I said to Massimo when I realized I’d stood there like a salt pillar for too long.
Massimo tilted his head and gave a shrug. “I can’t see that it’d make a difference. What I want to learn can be found in online resources.”
I supposed he had a point. A degree wouldn’t make sense for him either.
“Why nursing school?” Massimo asked.
I jumped. “I like taking care of people. I want to help them heal.”
“You could have become a doctor.”
I’d considered it, but I wanted to be even closer to the patients. For now, the nursing program seemed like the perfect way to pursue my interests.
Carlotta smiled gently. “I still remember the kind nurses who took care of me when I was in the hospital during the long recovery after my heart surgery. They made the hard times bearable. I don’t really remember the names of the doctors.”
“The Camorra always needs people who know how to treat wounds, so it’s a useful degree,” Massimo said.
I nodded. I would prefer to work in the NICU for premature babies later, but I knew that might not be in the cards.
Carlotta said something else, but my attention was on Nevio, who came out of the kitchen with a bottle of tequila. Alessio was right behind him, shaking his head with a look of exasperation.
Massimo rose to his feet, eyes narrowed when Nevio stopped in the center of the room. A group of college-age guys, all of them shit-faced, built a half circle around Nevio.
Nevio pointed with the bottle at one of the guys, the tallest and, from the dynamic of the group, their leader. It was also the guy who’d talked to me in the lobby. “This gentleman likes bets,” Nevio shouted.
Massimo released a sigh.
“He thinks I’m full of it and wouldn’t cut open my own wrist.” Nevio’s grin became wider, all teeth. “If I win, he’ll shoot fireworks from his ass.”
I froze. “He won’t, right?”
Massimo’s look gave me little hope. Nevio pulled a long knife from a holster at his calf.
The guy’s eyes widened. Was it really coincidence that Nevio and the guy who’d tried to flirt with me were at it?
Nevio turned to a girl to his right. “Hold my bottle for me.” She took it with a giggle.
A sour taste spread in my mouth.
A hush fell over the crowd when Nevio ran the blade across his wrist.
“Fuck, you’re sick! What kind of sicko are you?” the guy shouted, looking close to panic.
My belly constricted at seeing the blood dripping from Nevio’s cut. I put my drink down on a table and rushed over to him. When I arrived by his side, he just accepted the bottle from the girl who looked ready to be sick on his shoes and took a sip before he dumped half the bottle over his knife and wound.
Then Nevio toasted at the group of college guys. “Time to shoot fireworks.”
“Someone needs to call an ambulance!” came a shout from the crowd.
“Nonsense,” Massimo said sharply as he pushed through the crowd to reach Nevio and me. “Get your facts straight. I’ll deal with it.”
I reached for Nevio’s wrist, though my medical knowledge was still limited to putting Band-Aids on Roman’s knees or elbows when I babysat him. Massimo pushed me aside. “This is my job.”
Alessio tossed a medical kit at Massimo.
I stepped back as I watched Massimo wrap Nevio’s wrist while Nevio’s intent gaze followed the college guys who tried to leave the party. “Time to collect betting debts,” he growled, ripping his arm from Massimo’s hold. The end of the bandage fluttered behind him as he chased the guys.
Soon, a brawl broke out, which ended in two of the guys being passed out on the floor and their leader being held between Alessio and Massimo while Nevio put the stick of a rocket between the ass cheeks as he kept shouting obscenities. “You better shut up and be glad I just wedged the stick between your ass cheeks and didn’t fuck you with it,” Nevio muttered.
When he lit up his lighter, I turned around in search of Carlotta, who had remained in the house. I didn’t want to see how Nevio lit the fuse.
Fifteen minutes later, the crowd filtered back in, and Massimo sat down beside Carlotta and me on the sofa.
“He only suffered minor burns on his ass cheeks, in case you’re worried about the idiot.”
“Why does he do these things?”
“It’s Nevio’s form of entertainment. And it’s far tamer than what he’s usually up to,” Alessio said as he perched on the armrest on my left.
“He’s been a mess since Greta left for New York in March.”
Of course I knew that.
Nevio came toward us with a new bottle of tequila and what looked like a joint dangling from his lips. His bandage had soaked through, and blood dripped down his hand. He stopped right in front of us, his brows dipping as he looked at me, and for a moment, he looked more sober than he had all evening. “You should be home.” He looked at Massimo. “Take her home.”
“And who will fix you when you cut yourself again?” Massimo asked dryly. He grabbed Nevio’s arm and tightened the bandage once more.
Nevio handed the joint to Alessio, who also took a pull, then offered it to Massimo. He shook his head, which made relief pass over Carlotta’s face. “I like the number of brain cells I have.”
“You have too many. It can’t hurt if you lose a few to get down to our level,” Alessio said.
“That would require you and Nevio to stop consuming.”
Nevio fixed me with a hard look. “Get home.” Then he bent down, bringing us close. “It’ll only get worse from here on out.” The look in his eyes made a hole open up in my chest.
“I can take care of myself,” I said quietly.
Nevio straightened, took the joint from Alessio, and motioned at Massimo. “Take her home.” Then he turned without another look at me and stalked into the kitchen.
“He’ll have emptied the bottle in an hour,” Alessio predicted.
“It’s a new one!” I said indignantly.
Alessio and Massimo exchanged a look that made me feel stupid.
“Maybe we should really go home,” Carlotta whispered.
“You should,” Massimo said, shoving to his feet. “I’m taking you.”
“No,” I gritted out. “I’m not leaving only because Nevio ordered it. He’s not my boss.”
“Maybe you should consider talking like that to his face,” Alessio said, then he too sauntered off.
I glared. “He couldn’t do anything even if I did.”
“That’s not the point he was trying to make,” Massimo said. “You have another hour, then I’m taking you home. Don’t get in trouble.” He stalked after his friends.
Carlotta shrugged. Someone turned up the music louder.
“Let’s dance, okay?” I asked.
Carlotta hesitated, but when I got up and held out my hand, she took it and let me lead her to the center of the room, where dozens of soles from dancing feet had smeared Nevio’s blood everywhere. It said a lot about the party guests that hardly anybody seemed to care.
Carlotta and I danced, and I managed to forget about Nevio for long stretches of time. But about five minutes before our Massimo-imposed curfew, Nevio dragged himself up the staircase. He was alone. No girls clung to him.
I froze.
“It’s not a good idea,” Carlotta warned.
“Let me talk to him. I’m really worried about him. He should go home with us.”
Massimo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Distract him, okay? I need to use my chance to talk to Nevio when his guard is down.”
Carlotta nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t like the idea. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt in the process. Not everyone can be saved.”
I gave her a reassuring smile, and she moved toward Massimo, who looked suspicious.
I used my chance and followed Nevio upstairs. Unfortunately, all the doors were closed when I got up there, so I had to check one room after the other. I found him in the third bedroom I checked. He was stretched out across the bed, his legs dangling off the side, and he was simply staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all the questions. His expression seemed lost, forlorn, more vulnerable than I’d ever seen it. His leather jacket was on the floor, leaving his upper body bare.
His face became hard as if a switch had been turned. He didn’t stop staring at the ceiling as he gritted out, “Leave. If you stay, you better fuck or suck me.”
My lips parted in utter shock. I hadn’t drunk enough for hallucinations, but I couldn’t believe Nevio had really spoken to me like this. “I’m here to talk to you.”
He chuckled, and the sound tore at my belly. It was raw but also dark and cruel.
My pulse sped, my mind telling me to leave, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t leave him here like this. The bottle of tequila that had been full an hour ago lay beside him on the bed, empty. I hoped he’d spilled most of it. I swallowed and closed the door.
With every step I took closer to the bed, my pulse raced faster. I stopped right beside his head and looked down at his stretched-out form. Even stinking-drunk Nevio was magnificent, and I wished I hadn’t noticed. His outstretched arms were muscled from Parcour and cage fights. Scars littered his strong body. My eyes lingered on the tattoo of the Camorra on his forearm. The Camorra required a lot from their soldiers, and even more from its future Capo. His belt was unbuckled, the button of his jeans open.
Nevio’s head swiveled around, his eyes now at eye level with my thighs. His fingers gripped the back of my thigh and tugged me closer until my knees bumped against the bed. “I wasn’t joking,” he snarled.
I wasn’t sure why, but I reached out and lightly ran my fingers through his black hair, wanting a connection. He hoisted me off my feet, and suddenly, I straddled his naked belly.
I let out a startled cry, then swallowed when I realized how little fabric was between my most private area and Nevio’s skin. I flushed with heat, and my core developed a pulse of its own. I’d had countless dreams about Nevio and me in a bed together, but this wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined it.
Nevio’s gaze hit me. It was unfocused and never reached my eyes, always wandering around as if he couldn’t focus on one spot. Then his gaze dipped to my breasts, and his fingers dug into my hips as he pushed me farther back until something hard pressed against me through my panties. I looked down, stunned by the bulge in his pants. I touched his six-pack, my fingers loving the feel of the hard ridges. I bit my lip as the heat between my legs intensified. I rocked my hips and swallowed a moan from the sensation.
“Stop dry-humping me.”
I blushed, my hands still against his skin. Nevio shoved up and gripped my neck, his tongue trailing over my pulse point up to my ear. My body went into overdrive from sensation, completely overwhelmed.
Nevio’s breath hit my ear. “Last warning, pretty girl. You stay here, I’ll fuck you, and it won’t be pretty.”
I ran my hand over his back, my mind screaming at me to pull back and leave. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to notice me,” I whispered against his collarbone and pressed a kiss to it.
“I noticed you right when you walked in. Now, stop talking, girl,” he said, a hint of a slur breaking through the words.
I closed my eyes against his skin, realizing he didn’t know who I was. He was too drunk, too stoned. I was just a random skirt he was chasing—a quick pussy fix, as he always called it.
He lifted me, and I knelt above him as he shoved down his pants. I didn’t look down at his erection. I only looked at his face, but it was closed off and distant as if he was only half there.
“Ready?”
Sarcasm dripped from his words. I stared down at him and nodded. I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe because I was sick of my feelings for him. Perhaps because I hoped this would end them. Maybe because I hoped Nevio would later hate himself for doing this, like I often hated myself because I simply couldn’t stop my infatuation. Nevio flipped us over, shoving my legs apart and lifting my ankles on his shoulders. I glared at him. I prayed I could hold on to my anger for this and face him with squared shoulders when realization set in. He spat into his palm and slicked himself up, then swayed briefly as if he was going to topple off the bed—and me—before his entire body tensed, and he regained his balance.
I felt as if I wasn’t even in my body, as if I was watching things unfold from above. Blood had soaked his entire bandage by now, and his skin was paler than usual.
Worry filled me. Then Nevio shoved my panties aside and sank into me in one hard thrust. I would have screamed in agony if the vodka-O hadn’t been quicker. I turned my head and threw up my dinner and drink.
“Fuck!” Nevio shouted.
I didn’t say anything. Tears pressed against my eyes, and mortification and hurt bloomed in my chest, not anger, not hate. Nevio shoved away and out of me, making me tremble.
Silence filled the room. I didn’t move for a while, hoping Nevio would leave or say something. Anything. I swallowed and almost threw up again, this time from the taste of bile in my mouth. After a while, I inched my hand toward my skirt and pushed it down to conserve whatever dignity I had left, which was close to none. Gathering my courage, I turned my head to face Nevio. But he lay spread-eagle beside me, passed out. For some reason, this made me cry harder, though I was glad I didn’t have to face him or talk to him. I wasn’t sure I could or wanted to face him ever again.
I pushed into a sitting position despite the ache between my legs. I ran the back of my hand over my eyes, wiping away the tears I couldn’t hold back. The door swung open, and I froze.
