Page 124 of Made in Love and Blood

Seconds ticked by, but he held her stare. Could she see how fucked up he was? He wished she would. He decided to press his luck. To see how far he could push her.

“Do you even know why I’m here?” Nico demanded.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Here. In this house. Under your father’s say so.”

“No,” Frankie admitted.

“I drugged a guy, stripped him naked and tied him up, and then had him admit on livestream to raping freshmen girls. It was the President’s nephew.”

“Like...of the university?”

Nico laughed a hollow sound. “Of the country.”

She blinked once. Then, twice.

“Okay, so?”

“So?” he asked back sharply.

She didn’t even flinch. “Did you tell me that to scare me or something? Did you think that would make me somehow love you less? Who the hell do you think I am, Nico? More than that, I hope.”

The cat weaved in between their legs as Frankie pushed up to her tiptoes in white sneakers to kiss the spot under his ear. Her honeyed-vanilla scent cocooned him. Her lips stayed against his skin, soothing the electrified way his nerves crackled and snapped.

“Say it again,” he murmured to her.

He wished he had better impulse control. That he could stop himself from doing this to her. Maybe Giorgio had a point.

“Tell me you love me again,” Nico said, his throat aching.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

A sound, broken and sad, burst from Frankie. “You know I love you, stop it. You can’t just up and fucking go on me, Nico. Not now. Not after everything. You’re reacting right now, you’re not thinking.”

He pressed the side of his head against hers. She pushed right back. Her chest flattened against him the second he grabbed her, her relief exhaling into him as he kissed her temple three times in quick succession.

“Couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” she told him again through more sniffles and hiccups.

“I gotta calm down,” he admitted.

She nodded. “Okay. And what, you need to leave to do that?”

“Yeah.”

She looked up at him, not the least bit afraid. “So, where are we going?”

“You can’t.”

She fisted his jacket, throwing familiar words back at him. “Fight me.”

Given what he’d done earlier, she had real nerve to look him in the eye and say that. Except she knew the truth. Said so herself. He could never hurt her.

16. — the thing about Chicago...

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