Fucking sick.
As if this story needed to be more sensationalized. As if those men needed more infamy.
“They should be fucking anxious regardless,” Ace spat.
Our youngest brother harbored the most hatred for the Gabbianos out of all of us. Understandable. Dominic had held a gun to Roxy’s head a few months ago.
“Because if Raphael and Santi don’t talk at their trials, I guarantee you Dominic will before his time comes. He’s a disloyal coward. I’ll put money on it that he gets shanked in prison before he can ever open his mouth.”
“That being said,” Dad continued, “tensions are obviously going to be high around the courthouse next week. The heads of each family are bound to be present. They’ll have soldiers stationed all over downtown, patrolling the streets against attack, especially the Esposito members. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Sicilians even sent men to monitor the situation.”
“You think there will be war?” Rome asked Dad, a lethal edge to his voice.
And I meant lethal in the literal sense. Being an ex-sniper with the Army Rangers, Rome was no novice at taking lives. He and Luka had gone in and gotten out of the military at the same time, and both had come out of the experience changed men.
While Rome was dark and quiet most of the time, internalizing whatever pain he dealt with, Luka was the louder, more boisterous one who struggled with keeping a lid on his anger. His pain existed more in the external sense, on the surface. While Rome was deadly accurate with a rifle, Luka was deadly accurate with a right hook. He’d been involved in more hand-to-hand combat in the special ops, and thanks to his background as a champion fighter, he’d been highly skilled at it. Rome was now a gunsmith and had his own reputable shop in Crown Heights, while Luka owned and operated his own gym in Bensonhurst.
Dad blew out a weary breath. “I don’t think the Espositos will fear Sicilian interference during the trial, as much as they will an attack from the Niners.”
The Niners were the largest and most dangerous gang in all of New York. They’d already declared war on the five families a few months ago by shooting up a mafia summit meeting. The Niners’ new leader claimed the attack had been carried out by a group of rogue members who had since been “dealt with.” But no one, including the families, were convinced the Niners weren’t still bent on whacking all the mafia bosses in order to take over their territory.
Unfortunately, the Niners were no better than the families. In fact, they might have been worse in some ways. They had no code of honor, no familial loyalties. They were unpredictable and heavily armed.
In this case, an enemy of our enemy was not our friend.
“You really think the Niners would go after Raphael while he’s behind bars?” Ace asked Dad. “In the middle of this media frenzy? They’d be painting a giant target on their backs.”
“It’s actually the perfect opportunity to gain power,” Luka commented. “Everyone in the entire city will be watching this trial. There’s no better time to strike fear into the hearts of the populace. Not to mention, the leadership shift going on in the families leaves the syndicate vulnerable.”
“And Benito doesn’t have the clout Raphael does,” I added. “The other members don’t fear him like they do his brother.”
Benito Esposito was Raphael’s half-brother, who moved into the boss position after Raphael got locked up and Stefano was killed.
Cris rolled an unlit cigar between his fingers. “Either way, this is a window for an enemy faction to take control.”
Dad grunted. “It’s going to be all hands on deck to make sure Raphael’s trial doesn’t turn into a fucking blood bath. I want us surveilling the scene from all angles. I’ll be inside the courtroom with Cris when he testifies. Luka will be guarding the courtroom from the hallway. Ace, I’ll want you monitoring all security camera feeds to make sure there are no surprises. Rome will be our sniper eyes in the sky, taking up position in the building across the street from the courthouse. Nico, I’ll want you watching the courthouse’s back entrance. Any questions?”
No one said anything.
We were all in agreement. We all knew our jobs.
Dad rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Good. The trial begins at nine o’clock next Monday morning. Stay safe until then and call with any updates.”
We all rose from our seats and headed for the door.
“Hang back a sec, Nico.”
I pivoted on my heel, facing my father once again.
He walked around his desk, hands casually in his pockets. I clasped mine over the manila folder behind my back, bracing myself for whatever he was about to say. Maybe a fatherly lecture, like the ones he used to give me all the time but hadn’t bestowed upon me in years.
Because he’s given up on you.
“Yes, sir?”
“You have all the information on those properties with you? Your mother and I would like to take a look at them tonight.”
Swallowing around the growing lump in my throat, I pulled out my phone. “Yeah, right here. Wait until you see the balcony on the second one. Mom’ll lose her shit.”
He chuckled as I handed him the phone.
I never thought I’d ever feel needed by my family again.
But proving to them that I could actually follow through felt… really nice.
“We’ll see you at the bachelorette party, Lexi!” Gia yelled as Nico and I walked down the steps of his parents’ front stoop. “Your Russian might come in handy where we’re going.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Cris appeared in the open doorway beside her, glaring at Nico. “What the hell kind of ideas did you give them?”
Nico laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. “My hands are white as snow. I’m not that dumb.”
Cris turned his glare on their sister. “Wherever you think you’re going with my fiancé is not happening.”
Gia winked at me. “They’re so cute when they think they can still boss their little sister around.”
I blew her an air kiss. “I’ll be there…wherever we end up.”
Cris slammed the door in Gia’s delighted face.
When we reached Nico’s car on the curb, he actually opened the door for me. My eyebrows climbed up my forehead. “Trying to be the gentleman now? Or is this just in case your mother is watching?”
His mouth tightened into a firm line. “You’re tipsy, legs. I’m afraid if you try to open the door yourself, you’ll end up face-planting on the sidewalk.”
He wasn’t totally wrong. “Ah, the gallant knight, indeed. Chivalry can’t possibly be dead as long as men like you still walk the earth, pretty boy.”
His eyes glinted in warning.
Stifling my giggle, I slid into the front seat as gracefully as possible. Even he had to see the humor. Had to—what was the expression?—toss me a bone? I mean, come on. A joint-puffing policeman in Amish country chose the same nickname for him as me? It was like destiny.
P.S., That fruit punch stuff they were passing around was not fruit punch. One more glass would have been my knockout punch. Heh. Pun intended.
And I thought Russians knew how to knock back a few at the dinner table.
“Nonprofit work, huh?” he asked as he pulled away from the curb. “The model superstar becomes the humble do-gooder.”
“Surprised?” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Figured I was a do-nothing? A career Instagrammer or something?”
“Or something.”
I gritted my teeth.
I still maintained that he’d gotten all of his personality traits from a distant relative. Val and Enzo were both far too pleasant for Nico to have received one hundred percent of his DNA from them.
But whatever. I wasn’t going to let him spoil my good mood. I’d had a lovely time with his family—my in-laws. Considering they were barely more than strangers to me, I couldn’t believe how comfortable and relaxed I’d felt around them.
What Dimitri said earlier about them leading secret lives and
being more involved in mafia business than they let on…it just didn’t seem to line up with what I’d learned. True, I’d only just met them, but none of the Rossettis struck me as deceivers, and I’d known many of those in my lifetime. Dimitri was cautious by nature. He had to be for his job. If he was simply doing his duty by looking after me, I could appreciate that.
But I wasn’t going to take his word at face value.
I’d decide for myself if the Rossettis, and Nico in particular, were trustworthy or not.
“So…” I leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling of the alcohol flowing through my veins like warm liquid. “Shopping for real estate in Istria?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, kneading one particular spot. I noticed he did that a lot. And it was always the same spot. “It’s no big deal. Just figured it would have been a waste if I hadn’t checked out the market while I was there.”
He couldn’t have downplayed it more if he tried. “Your parents seemed pretty happy about it, if not surprised.”
“What’s your point, Lexi?”
Something told me I shouldn’t put too fine a point on the matter because he’d balk at any praise I’d offer. “Nothing. I just meant it was a good call. Cris seemed almost relieved.”
“He’s got a lot on his plate right now, with the wedding and the Esposito trial. Taking this over was the least I could do.”
“It seemed like he’s used to having a lot on his plate.” Careful, Lex. Don’t overstep your bounds. “Is that because you’re always traveling for work, and you can’t be as involved in family matters?”
His jaw hardened, his fingers choking the steering wheel. “Cris likes to be in control. Always has. So what?”
“It’s just that where I come from, there are certain expectations of the first-born so—”
“We’re not talking about this,” he snapped. “Ever.”
Yep. Touchy subject.
We didn’t say another word for the rest of the drive. My thoughts and emotions were spinning around inside my head like a whirlpool.
Could just be the fruit punch.
Nevertheless, I’d witnessed another version of Nico tonight. He’d acted…differently around his family. He’d smiled and laughed and behaved as if he actually knew how to have fun. In fact, everyone had acted shocked that he’d been working non-stop ever since I met him.
And the stories they’d told …
I hadn’t been able to believe them at first. That sounded nothing like the man I knew. But the mischievous sparkle in his eyes as his tales were recounted indicated the playful, troublemaking side of Nico was still alive and well inside him.
But how to make that side come out was the real question.
Then there was this other side.
The boyish side that wanted to please his parents, make them proud of him. He’d acted as if he had something to prove to everyone sitting at that table. That side certainly called out to me. The need to live up to the expectations set before him. Living by the standards others had put in place for you, or at the very least, the ones you had put in place for yourself.
As Sergei Kozlov’s daughter, I’d always felt I would never reach the heights a man of his caliber would expect from his child. The fact that I wasn’t even biologically his made that pressure feel suffocating.
Modeling hadn’t been enough. Not that Batya had ever said as much. But it wasn’t like I’d earned my good looks. I hadn’t achieved them through hard work and sacrifice. I had my real parents—whoever they were—to thank for my face and metabolism. Giving back some of what I’d been gifted in life felt like a better use of my time, and nonprofits had seemed like a good place to start.
After whipping the car into the empty space in the oversized garage, Nico shoved open his door and blew inside the house without waiting for me. I didn’t want to deal with his surly attitude tonight, but I wasn’t quite ready to go up to my room either. Something was going on that I just couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard I tried.
Nico had taken some kind of step today at lunch. One that had been difficult for him. I felt the vulnerability pulsating from him.
I wanted to eliminate it for him.
His evening shouldn’t end in uncertainty.
I followed him inside the house. But before I could act, he said in a clipped tone over his shoulder, “Goodnight, Lexi,” and disappeared down the stairwell that led to his gym and booze bunker. And I highly doubted he was going to work out.
I knew what was likely to happen if I followed him down to his booze bunker.
I knew what it might lead to.
But there was no way I’d be able to sleep without alleviating Nico’s insecurities.
On a fortifying breath, I slowly made my way downstairs. With each step, it felt like I was descending into a forbidden world—one of lust, temptation, desire. Like I was blowing through roadblocks and ignoring all the warning signs I passed. The literal door in front of me that led to the booze bunker felt like a figurative one, as well. One that, once stepped through, couldn’t be locked shut again. Acting on these impulses meant I would be forced to face certain realities. To come to terms with certain feelings I’d been fighting.
Then again, nothing about this had to involve emotions.
Feelings, perhaps, but of a physical nature.
After all, our arrangement was nothing more than a business contract.
Steeling my resolve, I turned the knob with a trembling hand and pushed the door open.
Nico was sitting in one of the red leather armchairs, his signature glass of whiskey clutched in his hand, arm draped along the armrest. The soft, crooning strains of a violin came over the room’s speakers. He was staring into the crackling fire in front of him, looking like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His suit jacket had been tossed onto the empty chair. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie undone and dangling around his neck. All of his buttons were free, leaving his shirt splayed wide open, exposing his brawny chest.
I wanted to run my nails over those muscles.
Wanted to pull on the strands of his short beard.
Wanted to yank the rubber band free of his hair and let my fingers sift through the light brown strands that looked auburn in the firelight.
His head turned at my footsteps as I approached him, jaw muscles popping. “What are you doing down here?”
“Don’t ask a question you already know the answer to.” My voice came out husky, seductive.
His nostrils flared. “Maybe I just want to hear the answer come from your mouth. Maybe I want an admission.”
I stopped in front of the fireplace, facing him. “Or maybe you’d rather see the answer for yourself.”
He canted his head to the side. Then waved me on. “You want to show instead of tell? Be my guest.”
Don’t lose your nerve. You wanted this. Buck up.
“I’m waiting.”
Gripping the hem of my sweater, I pulled it over my head in one swift move, revealing the satin cami beneath. Since my small breasts didn’t always require a bra, I liked to wear silky camisoles underneath my tops when I could get away with it instead of itchy bras.
Nico’s darkened gaze told me he was appreciative. Especially when my nipples puckered under his observation. He slowly lifted his glass to his lips and took a long pull of the amber liquid, his gaze remaining trained on my body. The movement of his Adam’s apple had me hypnotized.
My hips started swaying to the violin music before I’d made the conscious decision to move.
His upper lip curled in approval.
Then he scooted down in the chair, leaning back. “You want to dance for me, legs? You want to wiggle that tight ass in my face? Shake those pretty tits while I watch? Then make it count”—his grin was devilish—“and give me everything you’ve fucking got.”
Take my mind off the bullshit, baby.
God, she was a fucking vision.
Outlined by orange and yellow radiance.
/> Silhouetted by fire.
Burnished in flames.
My plan to relieve the tension in my neck had been to guzzle down about three glasses of whiskey, followed by some self-love in the shower later.
Lexi’s idea was exponentially better.
With pink-tinted cheeks, courtesy of her lingering buzz, she gifted me with the most subtly seductive, wildly erotic dance in the history of the world.
If her willowy, feminine figure was carved into marble, like the Venus de Milo, people would come from all over the world just to behold its beauty. The way her curves rolled provocatively brought to mind the ivy that had wrapped itself around the columns at our Rovinj villa. Her petite nipples were clearly outlined through her thin cami, creating a salacious image.
Those will be in my mouth tonight.
She tipped her head back, letting all that shiny blond hair fall around her slender shoulders, a sultry grin gracing her sinful mouth. She swayed to the sounds of violin strings. The melody was maudlin—almost haunting—which only served to heighten the sexual charge energizing the space between us.
“Lose the jeans,” I grated.
I needed to see what delicate material was covering that ass. What had been in contact with her pussy all day, and what now shielded her femininity from me. What would become sodden with her juices, soaked in her scent, if I sucked those distended tips into my mouth. And what I would rip to fucking pieces if I decided to impale her with my cock right here on this chair.
I needed her to show me.
As I wondered whether or not she would obey my command, she seemed to be contemplating the same question. Then, miraculously, her slim fingers slid down her torso and opened her button. Next came the zipper. Then she took her sweet time slipping the painted-on jeans over her hips and down her thighs. As much as I appreciated the sensual way she moved every inch of that body, it was proving torturous to my self-control.
My fingers dug into the armrest. “Get them the fuck off already.”
Her mouth curved, her eyes half-lidded. “You didn’t specify how I should lose the jeans.”
Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) Page 15