by Sarah Curtis
Her eyes grew a bit wider, and she gave him a small smile. A smile he felt in his chest, and he knew he was fucked.
Chapter Eight
Olivia's smile slipped as Nico abruptly left the bed and went into the bathroom. Sitting up, she looked around, and spying her shirt, reached for it, slipping it over her head. She looked at the closed bathroom door unsure what to make of Nico's hasty departure. He'd been so sweet a few moments before. Then, like a flick of a switch, his demeanor had changed. Gone was the soft gentleness she'd seen in his eyes, replaced by a sharp coldness. She wasn't sure the meaning behind the sudden change, but she did know he'd put more than just the distance to the bathroom between them. And it left her feeling... unsettled and confused.
The door opened suddenly, startling her from her thoughts, and Nico walked out with a towel wrapped around his waist. It dipped low, barely catching his hip bones. His whole torso was on display, and she found herself unable to look away. He was solid muscle. Even with his arms resting at his sides, his biceps bulged. His shoulders were broad, but his hips were lean, making his tall frame perfectly proportioned.
He stood still while she stared, the silence stretching, causing her uncertainty to grow. Then just as she was about to break the silence, unable to take the quiet a second longer, he moved.
He stalked toward the bed. That was the only word she could think of to describe the fluidness of his movements. Each step precise and sure, propelling him smoothly forward with a grace and powerfulness that only a predator could achieve. His expression was blank, his eyes cold and calculating, but behind that, she saw a glimmer of heat, and her heart pounded harder the closer he got.
"I didn't tell you to get dressed."
Olivia pulled her gaze from his, absently looking down at the shirt she'd thrown on. Her fingers grabbed the hem, tugging it to cover more of her exposed thighs. She wasn't sure what to do. The thought of removing her shirt with him standing there watching made her uncomfortable.
He didn't give her time to ponder her dilemma. In a swift move, he was by her side, scooping her into his arms, and striding back toward the bathroom. He set her down, and her toes curled on the chilled tile, but that was the least of her worries as he grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.
Before she could protest, he said, "Get in."
She looked over, and it was then she noticed he'd filled the tub.
He motioned with his head. "Go on, get in."
She felt him at her back. Out of the corner of her eye, saw his towel fall to the floor. She stepped a foot in. The water was hot, but it felt good, and she didn't hesitate, submerging the rest of the way.
Nico got in behind her, positioning his legs on either side of her and drawing her to him so her back rested against his front. She was stiff in his arms, and he leaned his head close to her ear and said, "Relax, piccola, it's just a bath."
Yes, but the bath involved a naked Nico wrapped around her equally naked body, so... hard to relax. She tried to cover her nervousness by getting him to talk. "Tell me something about yourself." She felt Nico stiffen behind her, and she couldn't suppress her smile or the tease that slipped past her lips. "Relax, it's just a conversation."
She'd barely caught his small chuckle but did feel the rumble of it vibrate against her back. She also felt him relax, leaning back, settling them deeper under the water. "I'm not a big sharer."
His arms around her lightly squeezed, and though her body was still stiff, she did find herself leaning back against him. "It doesn't have to be anything important or meaningful. I don't need to know all your deep dark secrets. Just... something." So he didn't feel like such a stranger.
She heard a soft sigh and felt his warm breath hit the back of her neck. "I hate Brussels sprouts."
Olivia giggled. "Brussels sprouts?"
"Yeah. They're mushy, smell funny, and are cowardly."
Olivia giggled again. "Please tell me how Brussels sprouts are cowardly."
She didn't turn to look at him, but could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "They don't have the balls to grow up and become cabbages."
At that, she laughed outright.
When her laughter subsided, he said, "Your turn."
"My turn?"
"Yeah, I told you something about myself, now it's your turn. Tit for tat."
"Um..." She thought a moment. Yes, she could share something meaningless as Nico had done, or she could share something more insightful with the hope he'd open up more.
"As you can probably guess," she ran a hand through the water, staring at the ripples she created. "I didn't have a typical childhood. I was homeschooled. Never went on a field trip. Never went to a school dance. Never had a boyfriend or even a close girlfriend." She paused as unexpected emotion washed through her. When she got herself back under control, she said, "I guess I feel as though I've missed so much. So many normal things."
She laughed to cover her unease at Nico's silence. "I know, not as monumental a confession as you hating Brussels sprouts, but it's the truth just the same."
Not wanting him to think she was a total loser, she continued, "I did put my foot down when I turned eighteen. I wanted to go to school—a real school—so enrolled in community college. I took a few classes, got a job. Nothing glamorous, but I made a paycheck, and that paid for my books and tuition." She paused again, running out of things to say in their one-sided conversation.
She played her fingers through the water some more and was just about to give up hope Nico would saying anything, when he finally spoke. "Why'd your mom keep you so isolated?"
"She said it was for my own good. I didn't understand when I was younger, but now I do. The environment I grew up in... well, kids can be cruel. My mom didn't want that for me. Didn't want me teased, or when in my teens, hit on because of what she did for a living."
"That must have been a lonely way to grow up." One of his hands disappeared under the water, and she felt it brush along her thigh.
It had been lonely at times, but she'd had her mom, and as she grew older, some of the girls had become her friends. She never did spread her wings at college as she'd planned—only gaining a few casual acquaintances—her mother's worries and fears too ingrained for her to step out of her shell.
She turned to answer, finally gaining the nerve to look at him, but his phone ringing from the other room interrupted, and he said, "I need to get that." His eyes that had been soft and warm, turned hard in a blink, and she wondered how he could turn off his emotions so quickly.
He slid out from behind her, and she got a brief flash of his ass before it was covered with a towel. Her eyes were drawn to the large tattoo splayed across his back. She'd noticed it in shadow before, but they'd never been in enough light for her to see it properly. She still hadn't gotten the best look as he'd left the bathroom, but she had seen it was a design, almost like a family crest with words written around it.
She let out a sigh then took a deep breath before ducking her head under the water. When she was little, she used to see how long she could hold her breath as a distraction to block out things she didn't want to think about. And right now, she didn't want to think about anything. Especially Nico. Because if she thought about everything that had happened that night, she'd find herself a little bit in "like" with Nico Conti, and that would be a really bad thing for her to be in.
* * * * *
Nico hadn't made it to his phone in time before it stopped ringing, but it didn't matter because after a few beats, it started ringing again. He looked at the display before clicking the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"
"Frankie and Johnny got Bishop holed up at the club."
&nb
sp; Nico clenched his jaw, fisting the hand he held down at his side. Paul Bishop was his manager at Club Con. Well, he had been until he disappeared when Nico discovered he'd been skimming and doctoring the books. Why'd he decide to surface? Nico was about to find out. "I'll be down in ten minutes. Have the car ready."
"You got it, Boss."
Nico disconnected with Marco and went to his closet to get dressed. Spying the connecting door on his way past, he hesitated, almost going to her and explaining that he had to leave. But then he shook his head, clearing it. He never explained himself to anyone. And he sure as hell wasn't going to start with the woman on the other side of that door.
He forced his feet forward, feeling a tingle slide down his spine and a cold lump form in his gut. His usual signs something was off. Signs that had warned him of danger and saved his life on more than one occasion. He looked over his shoulder at the door, expecting to see a guy pop out with a gun, but he had a feeling that wasn't the kind of danger his gut was trying to warn him about.
No, it was his heart that was in danger. Not from a bullet, but from sweet smiles, soft giggles, and extremely sad stories. But Nico was made of stronger stuff, and he could be ruthless. It would take more than a mere slip of a woman to bring him down.
Or so he hoped.
The club was still in full swing when Nico walked through the door at one a.m. People would party until the place shut down at two. Music with a strong bass vibrated against the wood floors, thumping through his body, and pounding at his eardrums. People from all walks of life, dressed in a variety of fashions, littered the bar, crowded the common areas, and moved on the dance floor.
Club Con was one of the more profitable of his nightspots, attracting the young and hip. But the back rooms catered to a more sophisticated and select group. Card players with old and new money flocked to his high-stakes game rooms, hoping to come away even richer. Nico didn't care who won or lost, he got his cut either way.
The club's office was in the back and up a flight of stairs, and that's where he headed. Frankie and Johnny were babysitting his prize. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he felt a rush of excitement as his hand made contact with the knob and opened the door. He walked through with Marco fast on his heels while one of his men stayed outside to guard the door.
As if a magic button had been pushed, all sounds of music and merriment cut off as the door clicked shut. Bishop sat in the office chair that had been pushed away from the desk. His face was pale, and sweat trickled from his hairline.
Other than that, he looked pretty good for a dead guy.
Nico strolled farther into the room, taking a seat on the leather couch, looking comfortable and at ease as he leaned back, placing an ankle over his knee. He gave Bishop a smile. Funny, that only made him look more nervous. "Where's my money?"
Bishop's eyes moved to Marco, who still stood by the door.
"Planning your escape?" Nico asked, gaining Bishop's eyes back. "I assure you that's a wasted effort."
Nico gave him another wide smile and had the satisfaction of seeing his Adam's apple bob.
Holding his arms out wide to encompass the room, Nico continued, "We're all friends here, right?" His words were friendly, his tone, anything but. He didn't wait for Bishop to respond. "I mean, we go way back, why shouldn't I trust you, right?" The smile vanished from his face. "Wrong. I trust no one who's not Cosa Nostra. Did you really think you'd get away with it?" His voice grew more menacing with each question he bit out. Nico dropped his foot so both were planted on the floor and leaned forward. "Did you really think I'd let you steal from me?"
Nico stood, making Bishop visibly shake, despite the fact he was over twenty feet away. Good, the fucker should be scared. Skirting the coffee table, Nico edged closer, taking pleasure in the way Bishop cringed with each step that brought him nearer.
The guy shrank farther into the chair, trying to become one with the seat. He was shaking his head back and forth, and his mouth was working but no sound came out.
Nico took another step closer then stopped. He was only a few feet away now and could see the sweat ring darkening the top of Bishop's collar. Spittle had collected in the corners of the guy's mouth, and he licked his lips, opening his mouth, again, trying to speak.
Nico pulled his eyes away from Bishop and looked around the room, his gaze lingering on the large filing cabinet in the corner. "But the real question is, why did you come back?" He quickly swung his gaze and caught Bishop looking at a large, potted plant by the couch. With a nod, Nico signaled for Frankie to investigate.
Frankie grabbed the plant by its stalk, lifting the smaller pot from its larger ceramic base. He reached in and pulled out two large, clear-plastic bags stuffed full of money.
Nico turned back to Bishop. His eyes were still trained on Frankie, but Nico's words drew his attention. "It's a good thing I like you, Paul." Hope flared in Bishop's eyes until he saw the gun Nico had pulled from his back waistband was trained at his forehead. "I'll make your death quick." In his next blink, Nico pulled the trigger.
Chapter Nine
Olivia's first thought upon waking the next morning was Nico had never come back. Sitting up, she glanced at the connecting door. It was closed. A grim reminder that Nico was closed to her as well. Her eyes fell on the fresh pile of clothes and tray of food sitting on her dresser. It unnerved her that she'd slept through its arrival. The thought of anyone coming in while she was unaware and vulnerable left an unpleasant twist in her stomach.
She grabbed up the clean clothes and headed to the bathroom, wanting to eat breakfast with her mom. She stepped into a pair of designer jean shorts, noticing they fit her better than the pants from the day before. She picked up the sales tag she'd yanked off and thrown on the bathroom counter, reading they were her exact size. The t-shirt fit better, too. She'd also been happy to see the pile had included a matching bra and panty set. She briefly wonder if that had been Nico's idea then decided it was more important to dwell on why Nico hadn't returned.
Even being as inexperienced as she was, she still knew Nico hadn't reached a "happy ending" the night before, so why hadn't he come back after his phone call? Her mind started spinning worst case scenarios, wondering if she'd done something wrong.
She was a worrier by nature. In fact, her mom was always telling her to stop being such a worrywart. But she couldn't help fear, if she failed to satisfy him, would he kick her mom out? What could she do to make it better for him?
She'd thought she'd known what she was doing. Heck she thought she'd done a good job faking it until Nico called her out. She'd quickly discovered hearing about it and actually doing it were two very different things.
After throwing her hair in a ponytail and brushing her teeth, Olivia found herself standing in the middle of her room unsure of what to do next. She'd never willingly left her room except for the one time she'd tried to escape, and even then, it had been Nico's room she'd escaped from. Was she supposed to knock on the door to get someone's attention? Was the door even still locked?
Only one way to find out. On her way to the door, she grabbed her tray of food and balanced it on one arm—she'd learned a few tricks from her time waitressing. Passing by the connecting door, she had the strangest urge to check whether it was locked, and her hand was already reaching for it before she could caution herself to stop. The knob turned freely, and she was so surprised, she instantly released it, then took a hasty step back. She stared at the doorknob, heart pounding, wondering if Nico was on the other side. She waited for the telltale turning of the knob, announcing his arrival, but after a minute when it never came, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Turning on her heel, she made a beeline for her original objective and this time wasn't surprised when the door op
ened. She was startled to see Al standing on the other side. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at her in the open doorway. Olivia took a small step back as he turned to face her. She gestured in front of her. "I, um, want to visit my mother."
"I'm not gonna stop ya. Boss says you have free run of the property." He smirked. "With a guard, of course." She'd never heard him speak before. His voice was a lot deeper than she would've expected, and the slight southern twang threw her, too. Did the Italian mob have connections in the South?
Olivia gave him a small smile, still unsure of him, however friendly he may seem. "And you're to be my guard?"
"Yep," he said, popping the P.
Free run of the property, even with a guard, was better than being cooped up in her room all day.
Giving Al another small smile, she stepped around him and headed for the stairs. She didn't bother to check if he followed. There was no need. She could hear his whistle trailing her.
After a long visit with her mom, Olivia couldn't resist a tour of the house, having only seen a small fraction when she'd snuck through it, trying to find the quickest route out. Many rooms had no doors or open doors that she could pop her head into. She discovered a library and a media room and made a mental note of their locations.
When she stumbled upon the music room, she went inside, knowing it had a sliding door that led to the backyard. She stopped at the piano, taking a quick peek over her shoulder. Yep, Al was still there, standing in the open door. She fiddled with the piano keys, only making a bunch of noise as she'd never learned to play, then turned and headed for the slider.
A blast of heat hit her as soon as she stepped outside, but the warmth felt good, soaking into her air-condition chilled skin. So good, in fact, she stepped out from under the shade of the patio's overhang to feel the full force of the sun beating down on her. She edged closer to the pool and unable to resist, sat at the edge, sticking her feet into the cool water.