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Nico
“You have a lot of responsibilities now, Nico, but I know you can handle things for the family. And I’ll be right there next to you, making sure you don’t fuck anything up.”
My chest tightens as the distinctive scent of lilies fills my lungs. Tears spring to my eyes as I force back the sneeze that’s fighting its way out. I look around at the overflowing baskets and standing arrangements that almost outnumber the mourners packed into this massive viewing room. I can barely see the taupe-colored walls, only cascading leaves and countless flowers whose pollen has declared war on my eyes, nose, and throat.
I guess to some it might make me appear more vulnerable…human almost, but I prefer my signature, stoic façade. Nobody has access to the inside. Not anymore. Not since—
I grit my teeth, battling the name bubbling up from a place where it’s long since been buried.
Nobody.
People dressed from head to toe in black are lined up for what seems like miles, spilling out the door of the viewing room, snaked around the corridor, and beyond the entrance to the funeral home.
Grandpa Vito was loved. Feared. Hated.
But above all? Respected.
But those feelings didn’t happen overnight. He had earned that respect a long time ago, back when he’d lived in Hoboken with his mother and two older brothers. After his dad died, there wasn’t much money to go around, and his older brothers did the best they could to make ends meet and they’d opened a restaurant that became one of the most popular for miles. But that attracted attention from the neighborhood ‘boss’, Don Cicero, who wanted a piece of their action. Cicero was a greedy, sick bastard, and he’d send out his crew to rape the wives and daughters of any men who refused to pay him a stipend for allowing them to operate in his area. And when Cicero’s men came after Grandpa’s mother, he’d pretty much massacred the lot of them. Grandpa didn’t stop at the henchmen, though. He went after Cicero and made him pay for the first time ever.
The men in the neighborhood pledged their devotion to Grandpa after that, and he started growing his own empire doing favors for people in exchange for their loyalty. Grandpa never wanted his family to be vulnerable to another monster like Cicero, and he knew the only way to protect them was to inspire fear and head up his own organization. He went after the scum of the Earth who tried to claim control of the neighborhood after Cicero’s death and killed plenty of motherfuckers who tried to cross him and screw over his people. Nobody fucked with Grandpa after that. People wanted to feel safe, and they knew Grandpa would protect them and their businesses. He’d always been that strong, that resolute — in his convictions, in his words, and in his values. He never strayed from them, and that’s always something he preached to me from when I was a little boy.
“Life ain’t easy, Nico. You may get scared sometimes, you may not know the right decision to make. But let your inner strength shine through. You can do anything if you believe in yourself. And if you believe in yourself, everyone else will believe in you, too.”
My eyes fall to his face. He lies still in the ornate casket my father picked out, one he would have hated because it was a frivolous expense. He’d have much preferred a pine box, which I told my father. But more importantly, I know he’s finally reunited with Grandma Lou. That brings me some peace. Not a hell of a lot, but some.
He was my confidante; I was his right hand and protégé. He taught me so much through the years, put my ass in its place more often than not, and peppered me with more pearls of wisdom than I can count. A stinging sensation assaults my eyes, but I refuse to bring a hand to them. I don’t want anyone to mistake this reaction for sadness. Goddamn pollen. I should have taken a Claritin.
I’ve allowed myself weak moments and now they’re bottled up, buried down deep. I have to be strong, even though the sadness and loss is eating me alive a little more each passing day. I still can’t believe he’s gone. He was sitting right next to me, only a couple of days earlier, playing poker and robbing my dad of every last cent he had after dessert on Christmas night. He’d pounded his chest and complained of heartburn after the massive holiday meal my mother had prepared for us. Then he laughed and pulled my eight-year-old sister Lily, the whoops baby who showed up on the scene sixteen years after me, onto his lap, claiming my mom’s cooking was worth every bit of pain.
Then he said goodnight to all of us and left. He drove home by himself. He let himself into his house, silent except for his own breaths. He went to change for bed, preparing for a night of solitary slumber. And he dropped dead of a heart attack when he’d reached the top of the stairs...completely alone.
That’s where I found him the next day when I came by to pick him up for his doctor’s appointment. That was the one thing he’d allowed me to do for him. He was always horrible at relaying information, so he let me tag along so another pair of ears could hear the doctors’ assessments. But drive him home when the roads were icy and the sky was pitch black? Hell no. He craved that independence. It fed his mind strength as his body grew weaker.
Merry fucking Christmas.
A hand grazes my arm, and the awful scent of funeral flowers is replaced with something equally atrocious. I can’t place it, but it makes my stomach roll. I sniff once and twist away from the casket.
Huge tits rub against my suit jacket as Adria Moreno slips in closer, her breath hot on my neck as she whispers her condolences along with some other things that I’m sure have Grandpa cheering from his perch just beyond the Pearly Gates. And thank God my parents have hold of Lily and are mingling, not paying a sliver of attention to Adria’s traveling hands in the most inappropriate setting fathomable. Jesus, the woman is relentless. A complete sex addict, no matter the circumstances. If I’d so much as said the word, I could have her bent over in the coat closet right now, pounding her ass up against the trench coats stored inside.
“I’ve never seen you so devastated, babe.” Adria reaches a hand behind me, under my jacket, over my ass where it settles. Thankfully my back is to the wall and not facing the crowd of people milling around the room. “Do you want me to come over later? I can make you feel better.”
Angel, her twin sister, sidles up to my other side and whispers in my other ear. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Tell us what you need. Let us help you through this.”
Okay, Grandpa is definitely having a laugh up there. This must be his way of diffusing the situation. He was always a little unorthodox, but this is pretty damn extreme. Standing next to my dead grandfather while getting propositioned for a threesome…it’s fucking sick. I needed to chance a peek at the casket to make sure Grandpa wasn’t rolling over in his grave…in laughter, that is.
Not that threesomes are not atypical for me. Hell, I’ve fucked three-quarters of the women in this room, often two at a time. My eyes absently scour the crowd, and I silence a groan. Why am I always searching for her? I had her, and I let her go. So why do I—?
My throat tightens when she walks through the doors. Her blue eyes are filled with tears, her pouty pink lips quivering. But hard as I try to focus on her sun-kissed face, my eyes break free and rake over her tight body.
She’s back.
I’d forced her away like the asshole I am, regretting my decision every day since then. It was my way of protecting her, protecting both of us, but at what cost? And now she’s here, just like I knew she would be, and I have no fucking idea what to do about it.
I swallow hard, fighting hard against the memory of her lips on mine, but I fail. Miserably. I can still feel her pressed against me, her eager tongue coiling with mine with such hope...hope I effectively shattered. My cock twitches, and I swallow a sigh. Just add it to the list of things I never thought I’d experience under these circumstances. The twins are still hanging all over me, and my gaze tangles with hers for the briefest of moments before she redirects the glare to the girls.
Then I see something that makes me more limp than a strand of overcooked spaghetti. Rocco Lucchese appears from a corner of the room and slides an arm around her narrow waist, dropping a kiss onto her cheek. An icy cold sensation snakes around my heart.
Sonofabitch. He’s back, too.
