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Nico never forgot that lesson, that admitting to being queer would get him killed.

Unfortunately, Filippo wasn’t finished. “Allora, this is me. You know I will never judge you. Never turn my back on you. There is nothing we need to hide from one another.”

Never, never, never. This was all Nico heard. Never tell anyone. Never admit it. Never be queer.

He was good at hiding it. Being bisexual allowed him to fuck women and enjoy it, to go to strip clubs with the men, to pick women up in the clubs—but Bennett Verreault was a problem, one Nico was apparently not strong enough to ignore. He’d tried. He’d resisted the texts, resisted the flirting. He even watched straight porn while he jerked off, trying to redirect his brain toward pussy, but thoughts of Verreault and his hard muscles always crept in, overtaking everything else. Images of a tight ass along with memories of desperate, needy kisses had burrowed under Nico’s skin, and every time Nico came so fucking hard that he nearly blacked out.

But now Filippo was suspicious, so Nico needed to give Bennett up. He would give him up. The hotel room was the last time. Therefore, there was no reason to admit anything.

“We were talking,” he repeated.

“While showering together? About what?”

“I told you no one was showering. And we were discussing our cousin and which member of the team is responsible for drugging her. That is all that matters when it comes to Verreault.”

Filippo’s knee started bouncing, but his voice was steady. “Do you trust me?”

The answer was yes—Nico trusted Filippo with his life—but Nico didn’t know why the question was being raised. “Of course.”

“Then I need the truth. I can’t protect you if I don’t know the truth.”

“You don’t need to protect me.” Then he realized what he’d said, that he sidestepped the issue altogether. Quickly, he added, “And I am hiding nothing.”

“I see things online,” Filippo said, knee still erratically bouncing on the floor of the plane. “I know the terms, the ones with all the letters. I know it’s not all the same, that there are different types. And I’m telling you it is okay, that I would never tell a soul. You are family, the closest thing to a brother I have. We grew up together, Nico. I’ve seen you fuck plenty of women. And if you are the letter who likes the other kind, too? Then I would still consider you my brother.”

Nico set down his coffee mug and let his eyes go unfocused as he considered what to do. This was dangerous. Filippo sounded sincere, and it was weakening Nico’s resolve to take this information to his grave. Carefully, he said, “I also consider you a brother. But there are limits, Po. Do not make demands of me, and do not overstep.”

“I would not dream of it. But I need you to know that I would not judge. Dai, you moved me in when my mother died. More than once, you took the blame for my mistakes so your father wouldn’t punish me. Then you made me second-in-command, even though others were more qualified, and even let me run some of the legitimate businesses. You have always been there for me. I will never turn my back on you.”

Emotion wedged in Nico’s throat, choking him, and he didn’t know what to say. Admitting his bisexuality was impossible, especially where they might be overheard, but this blind acceptance was humbling. Family was everything in their world, and Nico hadn’t thought he could ever be both bisexual and a boss. He always thought he would need to choose, and because his duty and legacy always won out, he would be forced to bury the side that liked men. But Filippo was injecting hope into Nico’s veins like a drug, and Nico couldn’t decide if that was a gift or a curse.

Filippo bumped shoulders with Nico, his voice barely audible. “I understand if you don’t want to share widely, but times are different, cugino. These are not your father’s men. They are yours, and they will follow your lead. As will I. So, if you need me to say that I know and it doesn’t make a difference to me, then consider it said. And now we can forget this conversation ever happened.”

As if Nico could. The words demanded a response, however, so he nodded once, his voice still locked somewhere inside the mess of his jaded, cynical head. He wanted to believe—Madonna, did he want to believe—but it wasn’t easy. It meant undoing two decades of his father’s voice telling Nico that sleeping with men was unnatural—contro natura. And it meant forgetting the soldato being shot in the head for the crime of being attracted to the same sex.

But he appreciated his cousin’s bravery. This could not have been easy for Filippo, yet he’d managed to broach the delicate topic while putting Nico’s mind at ease. His cousin was more gifted than even Nico had given him credit for, apparently, and Nico was touched.

Filippo started to rise, so Nico grabbed his arm, holding him there. “Ti voglio bene, Po.” It was an expression of familial love, one they rarely said, but at this moment Nico needed his cousin to hear it.

Filippo gave Nico a wink before shoving his shoulder. “Ti voglio bene. Per sempre, eh?” Forever.

Clearing his throat, Nico released Filippo’s arm, ready to move on. There were emails to write, contracts to read, and he was negotiating a price on an old office building in the heart of Toronto.

Except his cousin didn’t stand. Filippo’s leg started bouncing again just before he nibbled on his thumbnail. Nico gestured with his hand. “Spit it out. Whatever it is you need to say, get it over with.”

“I like this person for you.” The words were low and clipped, as if Filippo was trying to rush through the thought. “You’ve been in a much better mood lately and I think they are the reason why.”

Cristo santo, this was the last thing Nico needed. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, ever. “Go sit somewhere else,” Nico snapped.

“Okay, okay.” Filippo put up his hands, then rose. “But it’s true.”

Nico uttered a very creative, very dirty curse at his cousin, who only laughed as he returned to his original seat.

CHAPTER 21

The team flew back to Toronto late the next night. The game against Chicago had been easier than the others, mostly because Chicago was in the middle of a rebuild and didn’t have the talent to compete with the Reign. Still, everyone was exhausted and looking forward to getting back home.

As the players settled into seats with their team-provided meals, Bennett hesitated by his usual row. Noah was already in his seat, unpacking his tablet and headphones, but Bennett didn’t sit. They hadn’t talked much after Noah left Bennett’s room the night before, and Bennett wasn’t sure where they stood. There was still the big unspoken I’m gay hanging out there, even though Noah pretty much knew it, and Bennett thought they were okay, but he wasn’t entirely sure, so should he sit down and assume Noah was cool with it or⁠—?