Page 17 of Made in Love and Blood

Not even drugs and sex did that for Nico anymore, and those used to be a given to get him feeling a good kind of way. Shit disturbing was really the last thing he had to enjoy at this point although, that usually found him in trouble, like now.

Larkin grumbled something that sounded a lot like, “What improved his mood was throwing things, but who is asking me?”

Salvatore acted as if he hadn’t heard the man while his gaze locked in on Nico and didn’t waver. “Did it not factor into your choices at all that, oh, I don’t know, I might have had something to do this morning?”

Nico gave him a look. “Did you?”

Sal said nothing.

It didn’t matter. He already knew the answer. No.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t be doing this. Nico would still be down at the guesthouse safely tucked within the four walls of a high stone fence that he had no problem climbing what with all the trees and vinery around.

Fucking idiots.

“You know,” Nico said as his running shoes carried him closer to the seating arrangement in the middle of the room, “I could already be gone if I wanted.”

Last night proved as much.

Salvatore leaned back in his chair and steepled the tips of his fingers together. “I suppose. Why not go, then?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I can actually do what I’m told.”

Larkin scoffed at that comment.

Nico just rolled his eyes.

“And what Giorgio says, goes...right?” Nico added about his father. “That’s how it works. He calls the shots.”

The mere mention of the boss had Salvatore glancing Larkin’s way. “Take a walk, would you? I’ll call you back when I’m ready.”

“Sure thing, boss man.” On his way past Nico, Larkin stared him down. “Behave.”

“I also know how to do that. I just don’t care to do it for you.”

“Actually, you will do it for him,” Salvatore said, his tone becoming firm as the office door closed. “You will behave for him, and anyone else I deem appropriate, the same way you did in this office with me so far today.”

Nico cocked an eyebrow higher than the other. “With sarcasm and thinly veiled contempt?”

“With respect. I’m not saying it has to be perfect, Nico. You don’t have to be perfect here, all right?”

Good thing. He didn’t know where to begin for that.

“Trust me,” Sal stressed, shaking his head, “I get that literally no one would be happy to walk off an airplane just to immediately have their belongings and rights taken from them, told where they could and could not go, and expected to follow along without argument or discussion. I do get it, Nico.”

Salvatore then waved at the white chair beside Nico. “Are you going to sit?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“I asked for you to be here. You can sit.”

Actually, Nico didn’t just sit, as the other man suggested. In someone else’s private space, he always waited for the explicit invitation. It meant showing respect that others didn’t often consider. An invitation to sit comfortably in a place that meant something to them, hit different for Nico.

He still wavered in sitting until Salvatore murmured, “Pick a chair, son, it isn’t hard.”

Nico sat.

“Now, between you and me, and I do mean just you and me,” the other man said, folding his arms across his chest, “let’s get a few things straight.”