Page 137 of The Viper's Wife

Shadows stretch for me as we walk up Don Salvatore’s entryway, the sun staining the surrounding trees in dark red. The house—a mansion, really—looms over us. Piano music and overlapping conversations seep from the front door and then crash over us as we step inside.

The aunts and uncles, grandmas, cousins, and friendly faces I’ve grown up with look at me like I’m a stranger as I walk through the house, silence trailing me like the low tide.

I hold my head up high.

Next to me, Annetta fumes and mutters about “being rude” under her breath. Dom spreads his arms wide and shouts a greeting toward Cousin Red, breaking the spell. Noise surges against me as the crowd resumes conversation at once. I hear my name whispered in several directions.

“Let’s check upstairs,” Annetta says and guides me to the stairs, down a long hallway, and out onto a stone balcony.

Nico.

My breath catches in my throat.

He hasn’t changed.

It’s a stupid thing to think. It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen him. His black suit flows down his back in the same sleek line. Same venomous snake rearing along the side of his neck. But—a little change after all—his thick dark hair a touch longer.

He stands as rigid and silent as a statue, Giorgia’s arm wrapped around him while his family talks. His mom and sister laugh at a joke that’s been told. Giovanni’s there, slightly behind a man with golden eyes who I assume to be Nico’s father.

Alessia is the first to spot me, her mouth curving in delight. “Valeria, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

Nico turns, twisting, so that Giorgia’s arm falls from his. His eyes briefly widen in shock before lighting with such afierce intensity, searing along my face, that the rest of the world burns away.

My stomach twists violently, and I have to choke back the urge to throw up. I want to come to him, to press my face against his chest for a moment of comfort, but my feet are frozen to the ground.

Annetta nudges my back. I move forward.

“Valeria, how are you?” Claudia asks in a honeyed tone as I stand between Alessia and Nico. She looks genuinely happy to see me, but I don’t know her well enough to tell if it’s an act.

I glance at her husband next to her.

All the air sucks out of my lungs.

Ottavio is handsome with dark features and striking amber eyes, but his face carries the same quiet promise of ruthless cruelty that his sons possess. He watches me with the sharpening focus of a jaguar spotting a small deer.

I turn back to Claudia. “I’m doing very well, thank you for asking.” It’s easy enough to slip back into the polite, well-behaved mask I’ve worn most of my life, even with Nico and his dad both staring at me like they want to devour me.

“We thought you’d left already,” Giorgia volunteers sourly from Nico’s other side.

Nico reaches out and seizes my arm. His jaw is clenched—shaved down to the skin instead of the stubble he normally keeps—and his neck is flexed, the serpent undulating.

“Could I have a moment to speak with Valeria, privately?” Nico asks his dad. He sounds strange. Careful, like he’s timing his words to a metronome.

Ottavio watches me for a beat too long, his eyes flickering down to my belly. “Yes.”

Nico practically drags me off the balcony, down the hall,and shoves me into the nearest guest room, lit by a solitary lamp.

The second the door is shut, I turn to him. “Nico, I’m sorry, but?—”

He seizes my face between his hands and crushes a kiss to my mouth.

My senses flare withhim—his smell, his long fingers curled against my scalp, his mouth locked against mine like he’s making up for a month of separation with this single moment of connection. I tear at his suit, dragging him into me, needing him closer than is physically possible.

My back hits the door with athud, and Nico comes up for air like a man on the brink of drowning. Only the tiniest sliver of amber is left in his eyes as he gazes down at me, heaving for air.

I huff a laugh. “I guess you did miss me.”

“Val, what thefuck—” he snaps, before lunging forward to kiss me again with a desperate hunger. He moans into my mouth, grinding the back of my head against the door.