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I tensed. It sounded like he was going to kill someone, and his steps were coming straight for me. Before I knew it, he reached over my shoulder and stole my remote.
“Hey,” I protested.
He didn’t respond; he only changed the channel. Breaking News flashed on the bottom half of the screen, and the blonde newscaster went over the details of a large drug bust at the border.
Nicolas stood behind me, close enough my ponytail brushed his stomach. His hands gripped the back of the couch on either side of me as he leaned slightly over my head, his attention on the TV like I wasn’t even here. It was invasive and rude.
My pulse drummed in my ears as my heart tripped up in what could only be called anticipation. My body’s unwilling reaction brought a rush of annoyance in. I didn’t like this man—heart fluttering or not—and I suddenly didn’t care how inappropriate it would be to talk back to him.
“Yours?” I asked smoothly. “Bummer.”
A tug on my ponytail. “Watch it.” His words were low and distracted.
Warmth spilled into my chest, like I’d just gotten away with playing with fire. I wanted to do it again. Was this how people became addicts?
“There are seven other televisions in this house, Russo.”
Another tug on my ponytail, but this time he pulled it all the way back so I was looking at him upside down. His eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to wonder if this Sweet Abelli even exists.”
I swallowed. “You shot my brother.”
Was his fist . . .? It was wrapping around my ponytail. Once. Twice.
His gaze flicked to the TV. “He deserved worse.”
This man was going to watch the news with a fistful of my hair? My God. Maybe it was due to my head being at an awkward angle and my blood not circulating as well, but my brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. And the fact that he smelled so good, like clean soap and man, made the corners of my vision hazy.
“You’re not a judge and jury,” I breathed.
His gaze came down to me. “He almost got you killed, yet you stick up for him?”
“He’s my brother.”
His expression hardened. “He’s an idiot.”
My mamma’s voice filtered into the room from down the hall, and slowly, he unwound his fist from my hair and took a step back.
A moment later, she entered the room.
“Nico, I didn’t know you were coming today.” Mamma’s tone was tight. She didn’t like that he’d shot Tony either, but she must have known it was coming and hid in her room all night. “Will you be staying for lunch?”
“I’m sure he’s got plenty of stuff to do, Mam—”
“That sounds great, Celia.”
“Great.” Mamma sounded like she meant the opposite. I was so glad to have her back on my side. “I’ll prepare a spot for you then.”
“Thank you.”
Her steps grew faint as she left the room.
“You know what pisses me off?” His tone was dark, but somehow it only awoke a thrill beneath my skin.
I knew the answer to this question.
“Assuming?”
I focused on the TV, pretending not to care about what he was doing, but my heart faltered when he moved close behind me. I held my breath as he slowly set the remote back in my lap, and then right at the hollow behind my ear, he whispered, “Smart girl.”
