Page 78
NM: Maybe I still will
Okay, that was . . . aggressive. Bennett rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Nico was growing more frustrated, angrier—and that meant more dangerous. This had been a foolish game, with Bennett trying to stand between the team and the Toronto mob until he could figure out who was guilty. Because managing Nico was impossible, like trying to domesticate a wild animal—which was, if Bennett were being honest, one of the things he found hottest about Nico. He was unpredictable and powerful. Also, he fucked like a god and never let Bennett hide.
But Bennett couldn’t let his dick get people killed.
It was too risky, no matter how good the sex was. I keep saying that, his conscience whispered. Yet I keep circling him. Bennett should block Nico’s number. He should definitely change his security code, and maybe hire a bodyguard. There was no reason to believe this was ending anything other than badly—with people hurt. Or dead.
His mobile buzzed in his lap. Bennett glanced at the screen. Nico again.
NM: And ice your fucking knee
Bennett turned off his phone.
Nico paced the length of the penthouse. Michigan Avenue glittered below the wide windows, the lake stretching out like a blot of dark ink toward the horizon. He liked this city, with its bluster and bite wrapped in American friendliness, plus its history of looking the other way to criminals and mobsters. His people had done very well here over the years. If the Marzanos ever decided to make a go of it in America, he could see it happening in Chicago.
He held a glass of whiskey in his hand. The taste was decent, but nowhere near the quality Bennett stocked in his Toronto apartment. And fuck, Nico should definitely not be thinking about the hockey captain right now. Not now, not ever.
Nico did not have feelings for another man. The idea was ludicrous—that wasn’t his life. He was feared and untouchable, careful and smart, with responsibilities to the family. No one could ever learn about his bisexuality. And they certainly couldn’t learn about how he texted Bennett Verreault when he shouldn’t, telling him to ice his fucking knee like a wife.
He swallowed more whiskey and wondered briefly if Verreault would still want to fuck after Nico murdered one of his Reign teammates. He suspected the answer would be no.
The suite’s main door beeped and opened, dragging Nico’s attention back to more important matters. He didn’t turn around. Only one other person had a key to this penthouse and Nico had sent him off on an errand.
“Come in, come in,” Filippo was saying. “This will not take long, capisce?”
“Wait, what the fuck is happening?” a man asked.
“Do not worry, signore. We only want to talk. Have a seat.”
In the reflection of the glass, Nico could see the concern and confusion on the new arrival’s face as he slowly lowered himself onto the sofa. Nico’s fingers tightened on the crystal, his hatred so bright, so sharp that he could almost taste it. Two hours on a plane and an international border—all to get to this man.
Noah Brown. Bennett’s teammate and closest friend.
And the man who appeared to have drugged Sofia.
“Signore Brown.” He didn’t move, leaving Brown to stare at his back. “Thank you for coming.”
The other man rubbed his palms on his thighs like he was drying them. “Look, I know what this is about.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, and I didn’t do it. I would never do something like—”
“You would never drug my cousin?” Nico turned quickly and snarled, “My cousin, a Marzano? Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“I swear, it wasn’t me!”
“Then maybe we should show you what we found in your house.”
Brown’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, his eyes rounding almost comically. “You were in my house? Are you the reason my wife found a broken lamp?”
A fist hammered on the suite door, interrupting them. Nico sent a questioning glance in Filippo’s direction. Who the fuck was this, one of his men? No one should be interrupting them right now.
“I’ll take care of it,” his cousin said and walked toward the front entry.
Nico swallowed a healthy amount from his glass, enjoying the way the smoky liquor burned before quietly addressing Brown. “The lamp is the least of your problems at the moment, stronzo.”
“But—”
