Because to my father, I was a mistake. A girl born for a boy’s position, he’s never liked me. By allowing me into the clan, running the streets, and making deals, he thought he could break me.
Instead, I was forged.
“Piccola,” Nico greets from his armchair. It’s big, dwarfing his small frame, with a pie table by his elbow. A glass of bourbon sits there, condensation running down the edge.
Carefully, I step around the large sectional, sitting at the corner by his side. Without a word, he gets up, goes to the far bar full of expensive liquors, and takes out a small bottle from under the cabinet.Myliquor. He always keeps it for me.
Turning back, he winks. “You look different.”
I feel different. Iamdifferent.
When I come to his home, I’m in old street clothes—ratty jeans, a ripped shirt, and my old jacket that’s seen better days. I blend into the clan in that outfit. Here, dressed in a velvet black dress and high boots—I don’t look like a runner. I look like a fucking heir.
Handing me the glass, I touch it to my lips, studying him. With a huff, he waves me away. “You know it’d do me no favors to poison it.”
No, it wouldn’t. Nico has had plenty of time to kill me. These talks started because of one such night. He found me bleeding out in the alley beside his club. Fucking Bruno had gotten the drop on me, and although I walked away, I didn’t make it far.
He found me passed out. Woke me up. Brought me here. Maria healed me. And he just… spoke to me. Never hurt me.Never touched me. When I asked, he had this disgusted look take over his face. Like I poured bleach into his coffee and asked him to try it.
“Who would touch a child?”
Shifting, I look away. I thought everyone did in this world. I thought this was normal.
At my silence, his gaze darkened, and he pulled out a cigarette.
“You have my word, piccola. With me, you’re safe. No one will touch you.”
I kept coming back. When I was let out into the city, I found myself back here. I listened to his stories and offered my input. Maria would make me meals—meals that I willingly ate, because with them I wassafe. They cared for me, made me feel loved. A commodity in this world, I had never experienced.
Coming back every so often to chat became a ritual. Two enemies breaking bread, becoming friends.
“Can’t be too careful.”
He tilts his head, smiling. “Spoken like a true heir.”
To Nico, I am the heir to the O’Brien clan. He never doubted my role based on what was between my legs. Not like my father.
“Where’syournephew?”
“At the club.” He holds up his hands, taking his seat. “And no guards, other than Tony. Like always.”
It has to be clandestine. If my father saw me here, I’d be dead. He’d send Linwood to do it.
Shifting, I try—and fail—to ignore the rawness between my legs. It’s only been hours since I let Killian into my bed, into my heart. He cleaned up my mess and pledged his loyalty to me. He, the man most feared, gave me everything—his trust, his heart, and his devotion.
There’s a part that still wonders if it will last. If he will choose me over my father, because he’s always put him first. But I can’t think about it now. I don’t want to ruin this.
“How’s your father?”
Licking my lips, I look at the fire. “The same.”
Still hateful toward women. Still trying to put me in my place.
“How’s Alessio?”
“The same,” he admits. “He’s learning the books. I’ve officially chosen him as my next successor.”
That was a given. Nico praises Lex’s work. He’s loyal, ruthless, and from what I hear, decent enough not to beat women. Already a higher standard than others in our world.
