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I’m still reeling, trying to process what just happened between us, but his mention of Rafe gives me another whiplash.
“How do you even know that?” I ask, wondering what he plans to do about the obscene bulge in his jeans.
He gestures at the door. “Footsteps in the corridor, all heading toward the main hall, and the murmur of voices. Someone approached the door, probably to fetch you, but then reconsidered.” His lips curve into a smile.
My jaw goes slack. Okay, I might have been a little loud, but what I can’t work out is how Nico could hear conversation and decipher the direction of footsteps in a place he’s never been before, and all the while nailing me to the fucking bed?
Is this guy even human?
“Sophie? Are you okay?”
I snap my mouth shut. “Yep, perfect. Let’s go.” I try to step past him, but he places a hand on my lower belly, halting me. “Sophie.”
“What?”
He looks into my eyes, serious now. “I mean, are you going to be okay out there?”
“Why? Do I look like I’m about to break down?”
“No, but this Rafe guy meant a lot to you. I’ve seen the effort you’ve been putting into keeping it together all day.”
Nico’s observation catches me off guard, revealing a depth of empathy and attention to detail I didn’t realize he possessed.
I search his gaze. It’s not jealousy, he just seems genuinely concerned for me, which comes as a surprise. Maybe there’s more to Nico than I’d given him credit for. For some reason, I feel the need to explain.
“Rafe and I were just friends. He always hoped for more, but I never saw it that way. Still, everyone insisted that we’d end up together, and I almost started to believe it myself. But we wanted different things out of life, and eventually, I cut all contact with him.” I suck in a breath and release it slowly. “And then he ended up in prison. And then he died.”
Nico gives me a brief nod. “It’s the crippling guilt, then.”
I see in his clear blue eyes that guilt is a sentiment he understands all too keenly.
“Come on, let’s go bury it,” He moves to open the door but it’s my turn to stop him now.
“What about you, Nico? You’re awfully eager to attend the funeral of a man you don’t know.” I recall the way his face practically lit up when I told him where I was going today. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were in my living room with my knife at his balls.
He’d been planning to do something to me earlier—and given that he brought a van, my guess is he wanted to kidnap me. Yet he abandoned his plans and followed me here.
“What do you mean?”
“Surely a mafia don has better things to do with his time than to go traipsing around some back-end small town. When is Leo’s funeral?”
My question takes Nico aback. He pauses, watching me in consternation for a full minute. Just when I think he won't respond, he looks down at his Rolex and murmurs. “Right about now, actually.”
My lips part in surprise even though I already worked it out. “You care about him—his family. And you want to be at his funeral.”
His eyebrow arches, a wry expression flickering across his face. “Do they teach ESP in psychology school?”
A grin tugs at my lips. “You know, I wondered the same with the mafia and your supersonic hearing. But no, I just have a knack for reading between the lines.”
“Yeah, and such humility, too,” he teases.
A soft laugh escapes me. “It’s one of my many virtues.”
And then I can’t resist digging deeper since we’re on the subject of guilt. “Leo betrayed you, didn’t he? You loved him, yet as his Don, you can’t be seen at his funeral. To acknowledge how fucked up it is, being duty-bound to…” I trail off as something awful occurs to me. “Did you kill him?”
Suddenly Nico’s whole demeanor changes. He becomes cold and distant. Even his eyes appear to have frozen over. Disregarding my insight, he flings the door open. “After you.”
I immediately regret pushing, “Wait, Nico, I’m sorry, I had no right to probe—”
