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Nico would rather be tortured than admit it. Even though it was true.
“They did,” he said, giving her a crumb. “And they said to tell you the cookies were delicious and thank you.”
“You’re blushing.”
No chance that was true. “You are trying to annoy me. I have told you too much.”
“No way! You’ve told me nothing. Less than nothing. I want details.”
“You will not get them.”
“Hmm.” She set down her cup on the marble counter with a clink. “Has it been long?”
“No.”
“Are we talking weeks or months?”
He rubbed his jaw. Even if he could confess it was a man, he wouldn’t want her to know it was a player from the same team as the man who drugged her. It was better off if she stayed completely in the dark about all of it. “Neither. It is not what you are thinking.”
“Zio, you’ve never even hinted at a hookup before. Let me live a little and grill you about it.”
“There is nothing to say. You are assuming this is romantic, and it is not.”
“You brought them my homemade cookies. At midnight. Who are you trying to fool, sir?”
Suddenly, the back door opened and Filippo appeared, a tall iced coffee in his hand. A crime against nature, that drink. Nico was ready to revoke his cousin’s Italian citizenship. “Thank fuck,” he said. “Please tell me we are leaving.”
“Buongiorno, Don Marzano,” Filippo drawled, his gaze bouncing between Nico and Sofia. “What topic are we discussing that you want to avoid?”
“His secret hookup,” Sofia answered with an annoying smirk. “Do you know about them?”
“Ah.” Filippo’s eyes were dancing as he sipped from his straw. The stronzo was enjoying this too much. “How do you know about his secret hookup?”
“There is no secret hookup,” Nico snapped.
Sofia ignored him. “He dropped off some of my homemade chocolate chip cookies to them last night.”
“Madre di Dio,” Nico murmured, dragging a hand down his face.
“Ma dai.” Filippo appeared stunned. “You delivered cookies? You? Cookies? To . . . that person?”
“Yes.”
“Like, metaphorical cookies or real cookies?”
“What are metaphorical cookies?”
Before Filippo could answer, Sofia was bouncing on her toes, she was so excited. “Oh, my god. You know who it is! Filippo, my very favorite cousin, you have to tell me who. Please, please, please!”
“I thought I was your favorite cousin,” Nico said. In Italian, he addressed Filippo. “Do not answer her, cugino. Or I will make you regret it.”
Sofia stepped between them, facing Nico. “Are you threatening him, Zio? No fair! You know I can’t speak Italian as well as you both can.”
Filippo put up his hands, palms out. “Principessa, I would tell you if I could. But I’ve been sworn to secrecy. And threatened. Mi dispiace.”
“Ugh!” She went to make another cappuccino. “I will get it out of you one of these days, Zio Nico.”
Not fucking likely. Nico was excellent at keeping secrets, and Bennett Verreault wouldn’t be around much longer. Nico expected to soon discover who drugged Sofia. And when Nico exacted revenge, Bennett would surely never speak to him again.
