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My belly constricted at seeing the blood dripping from Nevio’s cut. I put my drink down on a table and rushed over to him. When I arrived by his side, he just accepted the bottle from the girl who looked ready to be sick on his shoes and took a sip before he dumped half the bottle over his knife and wound.
Then Nevio toasted at the group of college guys. “Time to shoot fireworks.”
“Someone needs to call an ambulance!” came a shout from the crowd.
“Nonsense,” Massimo said sharply as he pushed through the crowd to reach Nevio and me. “Get your facts straight. I’ll deal with it.”
I reached for Nevio’s wrist, though my medical knowledge was still limited to putting Band-Aids on Roman’s knees or elbows when I babysat him. Massimo pushed me aside. “This is my job.”
Alessio tossed a medical kit at Massimo.
I stepped back as I watched Massimo wrap Nevio’s wrist while Nevio’s intent gaze followed the college guys who tried to leave the party. “Time to collect betting debts,” he growled, ripping his arm from Massimo’s hold. The end of the bandage fluttered behind him as he chased the guys.
Soon, a brawl broke out, which ended in two of the guys being passed out on the floor and their leader being held between Alessio and Massimo while Nevio put the stick of a rocket between the ass cheeks as he kept shouting obscenities. “You better shut up and be glad I just wedged the stick between your ass cheeks and didn’t fuck you with it,” Nevio muttered.
When he lit up his lighter, I turned around in search of Carlotta, who had remained in the house. I didn’t want to see how Nevio lit the fuse.
Fifteen minutes later, the crowd filtered back in, and Massimo sat down beside Carlotta and me on the sofa.
“He only suffered minor burns on his ass cheeks, in case you’re worried about the idiot.”
“Why does he do these things?”
“It’s Nevio’s form of entertainment. And it’s far tamer than what he’s usually up to,” Alessio said as he perched on the armrest on my left.
“He’s been a mess since Greta left for New York in March.”
Of course I knew that.
Nevio came toward us with a new bottle of tequila and what looked like a joint dangling from his lips. His bandage had soaked through, and blood dripped down his hand. He stopped right in front of us, his brows dipping as he looked at me, and for a moment, he looked more sober than he had all evening. “You should be home.” He looked at Massimo. “Take her home.”
“And who will fix you when you cut yourself again?” Massimo asked dryly. He grabbed Nevio’s arm and tightened the bandage once more.
Nevio handed the joint to Alessio, who also took a pull, then offered it to Massimo. He shook his head, which made relief pass over Carlotta’s face. “I like the number of brain cells I have.”
“You have too many. It can’t hurt if you lose a few to get down to our level,” Alessio said.
“That would require you and Nevio to stop consuming.”
Nevio fixed me with a hard look. “Get home.” Then he bent down, bringing us close. “It’ll only get worse from here on out.” The look in his eyes made a hole open up in my chest.
“I can take care of myself,” I said quietly.
Nevio straightened, took the joint from Alessio, and motioned at Massimo. “Take her home.” Then he turned without another look at me and stalked into the kitchen.
“He’ll have emptied the bottle in an hour,” Alessio predicted.
“It’s a new one!” I said indignantly.
Alessio and Massimo exchanged a look that made me feel stupid.
“Maybe we should really go home,” Carlotta whispered.
“You should,” Massimo said, shoving to his feet. “I’m taking you.”
“No,” I gritted out. “I’m not leaving only because Nevio ordered it. He’s not my boss.”
“Maybe you should consider talking like that to his face,” Alessio said, then he too sauntered off.
