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Dad and Fabiano exchanged a look. They’d probably go to the gym for fight training later. Dad probably should have taken the day off, considering his injuries, but it would have been futile to tell him that.
I didn’t have to work today, so I wanted to enjoy the warm weather at the pool. After breakfast, I changed into a bikini, then covered myself with a pink beach dress before I dressed Battista in his cute shark swim trunks and headed out.
Battista’s hand in mine, I went over to the pool—he loved our almost daily swims—but I froze when I saw Nevio, Alessio, and Massimo in the water. I let out a small sigh. If I turned on my heel now and returned inside like I wanted to do to avoid Nevio, Battista would throw a fit. He was currently discovering his emotions and had tantrums over the smallest things, like a banana cut the wrong way or picking the wrong color for his spoon. Canceling our swim would equal a screaming rage.
Squaring my shoulders, I kept on walking to the pool. I wouldn’t allow Nevio’s return to mess up my life. It had taken considerable effort to build up a routine and figure out my life when he left me with his child.
His back was to me, presenting the twisted Joker smile that still gave me the creeps. His tally list hadn’t grown, which surprised me. From what I’d read in the news about the mob wars in Italy and what I’d overheard Dad and the Falcones discuss, the death toll had been great. I didn’t believe for one second that Nevio hadn’t been responsible for quite a few of those kills himself. Maybe he’d waited to be back home so Nino could ink him. Eventually, the space on his back would run out, though.
Massimo nudged his chin in my direction and said something to Nevio, who turned halfway.
His expression was hard to read, almost anxious. It wasn’t a look you saw often on his face. Alessio clapped Nevio’s shoulder, and they both left. I almost called for them to return. Had I looked like I wanted alone time with Nevio?
It was too late. They were already on their way to the mansion. I gave Nevio a tight smile and focused on putting water wings on Battista. I stayed in my beach dress for the time being, not wanting to expose myself in front of Nevio. He’d seen it all. Hell, he’d been inside me with his fingers, tongue, cock, and even knife. Still, he felt like a stranger after our time apart. I had changed, and from the little glimpses of him that I’d gotten, he had too. I wasn’t sure yet if it was for the better.
I set Battista down, and he stormed toward the shallow part of the pool to play with his toys. Nevio headed over to me. “I can go into the pool with Battista if you want to sunbathe for a bit.”
My attention was on the tattoo on his chest, and he allowed me to get a good look as he waited in front of me silently. It took me a while to figure out what I was seeing, and even then, I still had trouble believing it. The northern lights. Aurora borealis.
My heart picked up its pace, and my throat became tight, unwanted reactions I wanted to suppress.
Nevio followed my gaze, then tilted his head up to regard me with intensity. “You know what that is?”
“A beautiful phenomenon?” I didn’t want to consider why he’d tattooed said phenomenon I was named after on his chest.
“I couldn’t have said it better,” he said in a low voice that raised goose bumps all over my body.
“Did you visit them while you spend time abroad?” My voice was strangely scratchy. Nevio wasn’t the type to get tattoos of pretty travel destinations.
He shook his head, his intense gaze still on me. “No. And if I ever do, the woman who inspired this tattoo will be with me.”
“Maybe I’ll meet her one day,” I said.
He smiled strangely and moved even closer. My eyes darted to Battista, who sat on his bum and played calmly. Why couldn’t he cause trouble when I needed him to?
“You know this tattoo represents you,” he said. He was close enough that I could have touched the vibrant swirls of the northern lights on his chest. The tattoo on his chest was even more beautiful this close-up. I’d never seen a more beautiful color scheme for the lights before. Then my eyes caught on something on his wrist, a red B tattoo. I swallowed hard.
He turned his arm, showing me the tattoo. “Once I know Battista better, I want to add details representing him.”
I swallowed. “It’s not as easy as getting a tattoo. You ran because you were scared of the responsibility. Now you have to prove yourself.”
“I wasn’t scared of the responsibilities, Rory. I was fucking scared of myself, or what I was capable of.”
I searched his face. Everything about him was honest. “Then running away didn’t really make sense, did it? You can’t run away from yourself, and looking at the headlines in Italy, you kept going there where you left off here.”
“I knew I couldn’t run from myself. That wasn’t the point.”
“What was it then?” I had trouble keeping my voice down and even. I didn’t want Battista to pick up on the tension between his father and me.
“The point was that I left the people behind that I wanted to protect from myself. I didn’t care about the collateral damage I left behind in Campania.”
“So killing more people without any responsibilities in Campania made you change?” I asked doubtfully. It seemed he’d fed his demons, not starved them.
He shook his head slowly and tugged down his swim trunks a few inches. I tensed. “I just wanted to show you something.”
I remained wary until two angry red, round scars beside his hip bone and over his pubic bone came into view.
“Almost dying changed me. I was hit by two bullets about a month ago. They got me good, and I almost bled out before I reached the hospital.”
