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“Before our father died, this was the living room and the dining room. We tore down the walls. This is where my brothers and I spend most evenings unless we are out.” Nino’s brows pulled together as he regarded me. Maybe he realized now this wasn’t an all-boys house anymore. I was the intruder who ruined it all.
“I won’t bother you during your family time,” I said, sparing him the trouble of trying to let me down easily. I’d spent most of my life on the fringes. It wouldn’t break me.
“You are family now.”
I doubted Remo and Savio agreed with him. Adamo seemed nice enough, but he was probably only trying to be polite, and I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to spend excessive time with the Falcone brothers.
“I’ll show you the kitchen, but we almost never use it. We only keep a few things for breakfast. We order takeout for dinner every day.”
“Don’t you have maids or something like that?” I asked, following him to the back of the house toward the kitchen. It was all stainless steel and large enough to prepare dinner for many people.
“No. We have two cleaning people who come over twice a week to take care of the worst of it, but we don’t really like people around.”
“Oh.” I never attempted to cook because our maids had always done it, but I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Without any maids breathing down my neck, now it was an option.
We continued our tour into Nino’s part of the house. It consisted of a smaller, sparse living room with nothing but a couch and a TV. On the ground floor was a guest bathroom and another room, which was stuffed with old furniture. On the first floor were three more bedrooms and a master bedroom—the room Nino’s and I would now share.
I stepped into the large bedroom with a massive four-poster bed on the left, which faced the door way. High windows framed both sides of it. Dark red drapes partially covered the windows.
Nino tightened his fingers around my wrist. “I told you there’s no reason for fear.”
I gave him a confused look, but he didn’t elaborate. To our right, I noticed two doors. One of them was ajar, exposing a black marble floor. The door next to it was closed. Nino followed my gaze. “That’s the walk-in closet. There’s enough room for your clothes. I don’t need much space.”
He released me, and I moved into the adjoining bath and found a floor-level shower, a Jacuzzi tub, and double sinks set in a black marble countertop. A window behind the tub looked out onto the vast gardens.
Nino waited in the bedroom for me, next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, I walked closer. He looked relaxed, calm, in control. “We will share a bed.”
“Of course,” I said quickly.
“Have you changed your mind about me seeking satisfaction elsewhere?” he asked neutrally, but I wondered what his thoughts were about it.
My stomach tightened. His eyes traced my face with a hint of curiosity. For some reason it took me a second longer to give him an answer. “No,” I finally said.
He nodded. “I won’t bring women here with me, so you don’t have to be worried.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Let’s go back downstairs. I haven’t shown you the library or the gardens yet.”
My excitement spiked. “You have a library?”
Nino’s mouth twitched. “I do, yes. It’s in the main wing, though, but my brothers don’t really read.”
I followed Nino back downstairs, but then I paused in the living area. There was still so much room, and I hadn’t seen a piano anywhere. I hadn’t even considered not having a piano at my disposal. Music had always been a part of my life. I couldn’t imagine living without it. “Do you have a piano somewhere in the house?”
Nino shook his head. “No. Do you play?”
“Yes. Well, I would if I had a piano.”
“Where would you put a piano?”
I looked around the room. It was minimally furnished. I didn’t think Nino spent a lot of time here. The Falcone brothers seemed to prefer spending time in the main wing during the day, if the amount of empty glasses and plates in the gaming room had been any indication. I motioned toward a spot close to the French windows. It would allow me to watch the sky while playing the piano. “This would be a good place, I think.”
Nino nodded but didn’t say anything.
“To the library?” I prompted, and he motioned me to follow him. As I walked beside Nino, I risked the occasional peek up at him. His expression was relaxed, at ease, but I supposed that was his default expression given his lack of emotions. The long-sleeved shirt hid his tattoos, and I realized his clothes always covered them. I wondered why he kept them hidden under layers of fabric. Weren’t most people proud of their body art? And it wasn’t like he had to cover his tattoos because of a straight-laced job. Even without the disturbing tattoos on display, Nino managed to carry a vibe of otherness, a subtle violent energy. It wasn’t as blatant as Remo’s, but it was there. Everyone who looked at Nino knew he was a man you shouldn’t cross. Not because of the muscles or his movements that screamed strength but because of a certain air of self-assurance, a confidence that said he knew he was deadly.
