by Bethany-Kris
“You weren’t good enough,” he murmured.
Roz shrugged, but stayed quiet.
“Roz, you have to know—”
“I’m my own worst critic, and you can tell me I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard, but that’s not going to change what goes on inside my head. It doesn’t change what I tell myself.”
Naz straightened to his full height, hearing what she said and understanding that better than she knew. Maybe it was because he’d watched his mother go through her own battles throughout his life with things like anxiety and depression. But he got it even if she thought he didn’t.
“So, then we start by rewiring,” he said, coming to sit beside her on the bench. “For every negative thing we hear inside our minds, we tell ourselves five positive things. You hear, I’m so terrible. And so you say, No one else sounds like I do; no one else creates what I do; I am talented; I am worthy; and I can do this. That’s what you do. We can start now.”
Roz glanced over at him, and laughed. “Naz—”
“I can do it for you, if you want. You tell me the bad things, I repeat the good things.”
She shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
Not at all.
“I’ll do it but on one condition.”
Roz grinned. “What’s that?”
“For every time we have to do this—you say something bad, and I return something good—then you have to play that piece you composed for the audition in Australia.” At her curious glance his way, he shrugged. “Your brother mentioned it to me a while back, but when you didn’t say anything about it, I figured you didn’t want to talk about it. I take it that’s the once in a lifetime thing, right?”
Roz sighed. “I’m going to fuck up so bad.”
“You’re going to nail it. You’re going to have the whole fucking crowd on their feet. You’re going to be beautiful. You will be amazing. You are amazing, Roz.”
It took her a second, and then two.
He’d done what he said.
She said something bad.
He came back with five good things.
“I can do this all night,” he murmured, “but you know the deal. Your turn, baby.”
Her hands found the keys again, and music came out. Hesitant, he thought. He heard the missteps she made, but he thought that might have just been nerves because he was sitting so close to her, and didn’t she usually do this sort of thing on her own?
“That was horrible,” Roz mumbled when she finished.
“Better than what I can do,” he countered. “And it came out of your head, no one else’s. You did that. You created something. That talent is yours. You own this, Roz.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. Play. That’s the deal.”
Roz’s fingers hit the keys again, but this time, she looked at him while she played. “I love you, Naz.”
Naz grinned. “Good fucking thing, huh?”
“Can I do this?”
“If not you, then who?”
TWENTY-ONE
“Oh, my God, Naz,” Roz gasped. “You’re not even supposed to be in here!”
She felt his chuckled whisper along her skin as his hands curved around her ass to grab tight to her hips. He’d already pushed the chiffon of her skirt high to get better access, and dragged her lace panties down to her fucking knees. Bent over the bed of her hotel room with her legs wide, and this man behind her … it was breaking every single rule today.
No sex.
No distractions.
Nothing to put her off her game.
And here was fucking Nazio Donati to do exactly that and more. But fuck both of them because she loved him for doing this; sneaking into her hotel room, and teasing her just long enough to get up her skirt when she only had two hours to go before audition time.
“Bet you were fucking going crazy in here,” he murmured against the shell of her ear. His words were punctuated with one hard thrust of his hips that filled her full of his cock, and sent her flying up to her tiptoes at the same time. The sound that fell from her lips was high, and broken. The relief that swam through her bloodstream was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. “Bet you were overthinking, and worrying too goddamn much, weren’t you?”
She was.
Way too much.
And now all she could think about was the fact she’d really like him to fuck her harder, and make her forget about everything. Only he could do that for her, but especially like this.
Roz only got the chance to suck in one good breath before Naz took all her air away when he started slamming into her from behind. The hard wood of the sleigh bed bit into her thighs, but all she felt was bliss. His mouth was still on the shell of her ear, whispering and promising and taking away all of that self-doubt that she’d tried to hide for so long.
How could she be unworthy when she was amazing?
That’s what he told her.
But as quickly as she heard those words, she was lost in sensation, too. Of him fucking her, and how his fingers felt digging into her hips to yank her harder against him. A raw, fast beat that felt a little too wild but was perfect just the same.
God.
She’d needed this.
Needed him.
It was only when his teeth found the pulse point at her throat, and nipped that she finally tumbled over that edge. For a moment, it felt like time was suspended. Roz was just hanging on by the very tips of her fingers. Noise, and sound, and life … what was any of that when she felt like this?
“Oh, my God,” she breathed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Naz muttered thickly against her throat. One last, hard thrust accompanied his words before she felt him jerk inside her. Emptying into latex, and his hands shaking against her hips. “Yeah, shit, I needed that, too.”
Roz found herself laughing as breathless as it was. “Why?”
“Because I’m fucking nervous, too.”
Was he?
Her nerves were just … well, gone.
Now.
“But that doesn’t matter,” she heard him whisper along the column of her throat. “You remember that up there, yeah? Just be amazing, Roz, because that’s what you are. I’ll be right there waiting when you’re done.”
That was best part, she knew. It didn’t matter if she blew this audition. It didn’t matter if she fucking nailed it. Because at the end, and tomorrow, or the next day … Naz was still going to be there. Her family would still be there. And there would be more auditions, and other companies.
Roz was just getting started.
“Happy birthday, Roz,” Naz murmured, kissing the shell of her ear.
She smiled.
Another rule broken for today.
It was supposed to be just the audition day, not her birthday. They were supposed to celebrate all that tomorrow. Turning eighteen, and all the rest. Kyle’s demands to keep Roz on point, and in total focus for this audition.
Naz was damned determined to break all of those rules.
Roz didn’t even mind.
“You better get the hell out of here before Kyle comes and finds you,” she mumbled against the bed. “He’ll be in a fit, and then I’ll have to listen to him the whole way to the audition.”
Because yep, Naz wasn’t even allowed to drive Roz anywhere. She had to focus on the day, and the audition, and nothing else. Kyle’s demands, despite how loudly and often she had protested about it.
Naz made a noise that sounded a lot like annoyance. “Yeah, I kind of hate that guy.”
Roz laughed. “Me, too.”
But what could she do?
Nail the audition, she supposed.
She did exactly that, too.
Nailed the audition.
But even after the last note echoed from the piano, and her fingers lifted from the keys, Roz stared at the instrument in front of her like it was the first time she had ever seen it before in her life. She felt the bright lights above the stage bearing d
own on her, and the way her dress tightened around her body with every quick breath she took. She heard the sounds of feet shuffling and rushing to stand in the crowd as people stood, and then the noise of their applause when they began clapping.
Yet, all she saw was the shiny top of a Baby Grand and the ivory keys barely kissing her fingertips.
Because she did it.
Her fingers trembled, but she didn’t know why. Her mind shouted for her to stand, and face the crowd as was customary. To bow, and smile gracefully like she had been taught her whole life.
And still, she stared at the piano.
Still, she felt those notes echoing in her mind. A reverberation of the song she had created that slowed from her mind to her fingers and through the piano like an extension of her very person.
Maybe …
Maybe a part of her still thought she wouldn’t be able to do it. That she’d freeze, or miss a key. That she would screw up that last stanza when the notes reached an impossibly high, fast rhythm that she had only been able to complete once before.
With Naz.
Stand, stand, stand, her mind shouted.
Roz did just that, although how gracefully, she wasn’t sure. Sweeping her hand along her skirt to move it off the bench, she did a quick bow. She couldn’t really see the people in the crowd or the ones who were meant to score and judge her performance because of the lights. But she was grateful for that, too.
Somehow, she remembered to smile.
Somehow, she remembered to breathe.
Above her head, Roz saw a red light flick on and off three times. A signal for the performer on stage to move along for the next person. The lights were still too bright. The crowd was still impossibly loud.
She gave a little wave as she headed for the exit on the right side of the stage.
There he was.
Already waiting.
Roz’s steps turned into a run because Naz was really the only person she wanted in that moment. Oh, sure, she wanted her parents. She wanted to hear her mentor tell her what she already knew—this fucking audition was all hers.
But right then, she just wanted him.
Naz caught Roz in his embrace when she launched herself at him. Those strong arms of his wrapped around her like a cage that was never going to let her go. God, she didn’t want him to.
She hadn’t realized it until one of his hands wiped at her cheek, but tears had make tracks down her face. But they were good tears; happy tears.
Roz didn’t know what she expected Naz to say in those seconds. Congratulations, maybe. Or even a confirmation of how amazing he kept telling her she was.
He surprised her.
He was always doing that.
With his lips pressed against hers, he murmured, “I can’t believe you’re mine, Rosalynn Puzza.”
TWENTY-TWO
Naz stuffed his hands in his pockets, and eyed the familiar house in front of him. Never once had he felt out of place or nervous coming here. He could walk up those steps like he’d done from the time he learned how to fucking walk, and stroll right through the front door as if he actually lived here. Even though he didn’t and never had.
It never mattered. Those doors had always been opened for him no matter what. He could come and go as he pleased. Park his four-wheeler in the garage as a kid, and join them at the table for supper with no questions asked. Drank too much as a teenager, and didn’t want to go home? He could come here.
Next to his own home, this place was his safe haven.
So why did he feel so fucking nervous right now? Why was he looking at Zeke and Katya’s home like he’d never been past the threshold of the front door? Why were his goddamn hands sweaty?
This wasn’t like Naz at all.
“You going to stand out there in the driveway all afternoon, or what?” he heard a familiar voice call.
Naz found his godfather standing on the top of the steps. Zeke leaned against the railing with an easy posture, and a similarly welcoming smile. All of that meant good things because that was the thing about Zeke. He wasn’t very good at hiding when he was pissed off at someone, or rather, he couldn’t be bothered to try and hide it.
“I was thinking, actually,” Naz admitted.
“About what, exactly?”
“How many times I’ve been here before, I guess. All the shit Luca and I used to do when we were kids. You know, all of that.”
Zeke hummed under his breath. “A whole lifetime of memories for you two, I suppose.”
“So far.”
“You’ve got lots left to go. That’s what Cross and I wanted, you know? The same thing we had as kids growing up. Someone to watch our back because we knew nobody else was going to. We could always count on each other in that way.”
Naz nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Zeke cleared his throat, and straightened to his full height. “So, are you coming in, or are you going to keep standing there like an idiot all morning?”
“Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome, principe.”
Zeke said nothing else, but rather, turned on his heels and headed inside the house. He left the door open. A silent offer for Naz to follow if he wanted. He did exactly that, and took the time to remove his shoes and coat inside the house. Eventually, he found Zeke in the man’s office where he was digging through a drawer.
“Roz isn’t here,” Zeke said. “She’s out shopping with her mother. Apparently, she needs to ship all the things to Australia within the week, or they’re not going to get there in time for her to have them when she gets there.”
At the mention of Australia, Naz wanted to both smile and frown. Funny how that worked. He was fucking ecstatic that Roz had nailed the audition. And not to mention, within a week, she got the call. The official, we would love to invite you to our company. Her spot was to be filled in a month and a half. A month after his sister’s wedding.
They hadn’t really got in to the details of what day she was going to officially get on a plane, but Naz knew that conversation was coming. He didn’t want to see her go. Fuck him straight to hell because he just wanted to keep her here.
At the same time, this was her dream. This was what she was made to do; what she wanted to do. There was no way in hell he was going to hold her back from doing all her amazing things.
So, yeah.
He was going to keep being sad and happy.
Privately sad.
Happy to everyone else.
“I know she isn’t here,” Naz said, taking a seat when Zeke gestured at the chair across from his desk. Once seated, he pulled out the glasses he had to wear when he read or used the computer just to have something in his hands to focus on. His nerves were fucking ridiculous today. “That’s why I came over today.”
Zeke glanced at his watch, saying, “Strange time for you to be around. Usually, you’re in the middle of the city working.”
Naz shrugged. “Nobody’s calling to send me running like a fucking cafone all over the city. I’m not going to speak on it lest my fucking luck run out, huh?”
His godfather laughed. “Sure, sure.”
“Plus, I might have mentioned to Dad that I needed a minute or two today to do something important.”
Zeke straightened in his chair, and folded his arms over his chest as he eyed Naz from across the desk. “Something to do with me, yeah?”
“He probably called you right after I hung up.”
“Probably,” Zeke agreed. “You know how your father is. He’s a fucking gossip, but only with me.” Then, Zeke turned serious when he muttered, “Never tell him I told you that because he’ll try to bust my mouth, and we’re too old for that shit. And I really don’t want to hear Catherine and Katya bitching about it all. Got it?”
Naz chuckled. “Got it.”
But where was the lie?
“You’re not going to ask her to stay in New York, are you?” Zeke asked quietly when Naz let the silence stretch on between them. “Rosalynn, I me
an.”
“I don’t need you to tell me who you mean. I know.”
“Well, are you?”
Naz glanced up from the glasses in his hands, and shook his head. “Nah, I’m not. I want to, you know? We’re just getting started, her and I. The last thing I want is for her to be on the other side of the world for God knows how long. I’m never leaving New York for a good spread of time—we both know it. So, yeah, I want to.”
“But you won’t.”
“She needs to do her amazing things. And some of those things won’t always include me,” Naz murmured.
“Far beyond your age, principe.”
“Something like that.” Naz sighed, and glanced up at the ceiling. “We’ll figure it out. Vacations to different spots. I’ll fly her way when I’m on a run, or something. She’ll come back here for holidays …. maybe.”
“There’ll be time.”
But how long would they have to do that? It was a question that plagued Naz. And at the same time, he figured, what did it matter?
If it was one year, five years, or a fucking decade … what did it matter? He wasn’t going anywhere. He was still going to be standing in the same spot waiting for her to come back his way.
That’s how this love thing worked, apparently.
“And you’ve still got a little while before you need to worry about any of that,” Zeke said. “A whole month and a half, right?”
“Yeah, speaking of which …”
Zeke smiled. “Mmm, the whole reason you’re here.”
Naz chuckled, and rolled his eyes. “You know, if Dad is just going to tell you everything … then why make me go through the semantics of actually asking? Seems like a waste of time.”
“Or I like watching you squirm, Nazio.”
Yeah, or that.
Naz sighed. “I thought Roz might like to go to Cece’s wedding with me. But I also know it’s going to a publicized event, and for a long time, you’ve kept her out of that. She’s barely been photographed at all. Certainly not on the arm of a Cosa Nostra soldier at the wedding of a boss’s daughter.”
“Circumstance because she was always away at school, not because I was attempting to hide her away from this life, actually. She knows what I am, and what I do. I never hid it from my children, Nazio. A lot like your mother and father. When it comes your time, I suggest you do the same.”