What’s next? Will I be justifying murder?
It hits me then. I already am.
Nero is a killer—that is afact—but that’s not how I see him. That label feels like no more than a footnote on his personality. Irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.
A shiver runs through me. Who is this woman indeed?
After dinner, we make some mulled wine and go outside to sit by the firepit. The crackling flames lick at the night sky as I take a few sips.
I notice Nero brought a book with him—The Divine Comedy. I flipped through it myself a few days ago but found it largely incomprehensible.
“Did you bring that from home?”
He nods. “I saw you looking at it. It’s one of my favorites.”
Heat blankets my cheeks. “Is this where I admit I had a very hard time with it?”
He chuckles. “It’s not just you. Took me years to really understand it. I’ve read multiple translations along with the original Italian. Can I read some to you?”
“Sure.”
He opens it to the page that’s earmarked and begins to read, pausing to explain the confusing parts.
Dante and his guide, Virgil, enter the outer ring of the seventh circle of hell, where the sinners who committed violence against others are punished. This area is a boiling river of blood. Murderers, tyrants, and others who were violent toward other humans are submerged in the river to varying depths, determined by the severity of what they did and how they sinned. Centaurs patrol the riverbanks, shooting arrows at any of the damned who try to escape their punishment.
It’s a gruesome image.
I wonder why Nero’s studied this book so much. It’s the story of Dante’s redemption, and maybe that’s what draws Nero to it. Dante wanted to be redeemed, but Nero’s embraced the darkness that inhabits him. He’s accepted it as part of who he is.
Does he imagine himself as one of the sinners that stand in that river, boiling in thick blood with no way out?
That image chills me. If that’s what he thinks is waiting for him, and yet he still keeps living the life he’s chosen, he is far braver than me.
I admire the way he accepts the consequences of his decisions, refusing to hide from them, no matter how harsh they may be. That’s exactly what he did when he chose to return to New York with me, isn’t it?
He closes the book and tosses it on the chair beside the bench we’re sitting on. “That’s enough for tonight. Did I put you to sleep?”
“How could you? That was riveting. And somewhat disturbing.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being a smart-ass or just a genuine nerd.”
“Hey, there’s a nerd here, but it’s certainly not me. I’m not the one explainingThe Divine Comedyto their unsuspecting spouse.” I take a sip of my mulled wine and shoot him a sideways look. “Does anyone else know how well-read you are?”
It’s hard to tell with the fire going, but I swear that he blushes. “If you’re asking if I’ve attempted to explainThe Divine Comedyto anyone before you, the answer would be no.”
“Are there book clubs in the mob? Maybe you should start one.”
“Fuck, just the thought of that…” He snorts. “Can you imagine me telling Alessio I’d like for us to meet once a week to discussRomeo & Juliet?“
I bite down on my grin. “Throw him right into the deep end, huh? How about starting with something easier, likeAnne of Green Gables?”
His chest vibrates with laughter. “That’s fucking perfect. Did I ever tell you I think he wants to live on a farm? He has a farm in the Sims game he plays.”
“Oh my God, Nero, what if he just needs some inspiration to go for it? Give that man the damn book!” I'mcrying.
Nero puts his mug down on the ground and hides his face inside his hands, his whole body shaking. I’ve never seen him laugh this hard.
It takes both of us a good few minutes to calm down and be able to look at each other without going into another fit.
