Page 47 of Single Malt Drama
Marco
Not to brag,but I’d bounced more than my fair share of women on mattresses. Some of them laughed, and some gave come hither smiles. Hell, most of them pulled me down with them. Nico did none of those things. She frowned and sat upright.
I’m talking ramrod straight spine, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs upright. I couldn’t image a more closed-off posture, unless of course, she tucked her head.
“What’s wrong?” Stupid question, but I was at a loss.
Nico sighed, shifted her weight, and sat cross-legged with her arms folded. “What happened on the call before I came into the room?”
“Not much. We came up with plans to sink Mayor Carter and the Abruzzos.” I sat in front of her. “We should really talk about the wedding.”
She glanced away. “I told you. I don’t need all of the fuss. This is a marriage of convenience. A temporary business deal.”
Her words hit me in the solar plexus. Where is this coming from? Rubbing the center of my chest, I asked, “If you’re still upset about Tara—”
“I have no right to be jealous of her or any of your other lovers.” She’d said the right thing, but the venom in her voice said the exact opposite.
“Then what’s wrong?”
She dipped her chin.
I’d known her far too long to play these sorts of games. She obviously had something on her mind, and I wasn’t going to utter another word until she shared it.
Nico glanced at me, sighed, and turned her attention to her nails. Fingers splayed, she frowned and picked at her cuticles.
Come on, babe. Give me something to go on here. I arched a brow.
She repeated the process with her other hand. By the way she wrinkled her forehead and rolled her lips in, I assumed she was rehearsing what she wanted to say to me.
I waited not so patiently.
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Okay, fine. I’m still upset you lied to me about Tara.”
Nice try, but that’s not all. What’s on that beautiful mind of yours?I nodded, but otherwise remained impassive.
“I don’t want to be a mafia wife.” Her voice cracked.
What the hell?“That’s great, because I don’t want to be a mafia husband.”
She gave me an impatient look.
Scratching the side of my head, I ran through the events of the previous couple of hours. “Are you upset I wasn’t going to bring Pete Cole here?”
She groaned, and I knew I was in trouble.
“I’m freaking lost here, Nic.” I nudged her side. “Use your words and tell me what I did wrong.”
“It isn’t what you did wrong, not entirely. Yes, you should never have considered leaving him behind, but that’s not the problem.” She switched back and forth between English and Italian as she laid into me. “You walked in there balls swinging and guns out like an enforcer. There were children in that house. Children you scared. You might not want to be mafiosí, but it is in your blood. It’s who you are.”
I forced my brows down from my hairline. “I didn’t have time to sit down and discuss the situation over tea. I had no way of knowing when the Abruzzos would show up.”
“And the man? Pete? You would have left him there to die if not for me?” She jabbed her index finger in my direction.
Okay. She has me there. I ran my hands over my head. “You’re right. I should have insisted he come, but Pete and Tara don’t get along.”
She froze in place, stared, and lowered her voice to a growl. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”
“What? No. They were divorced before I met her.” At the risk of earning myself a slap across the face, I took her hand.