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Pulling out an oversized blue-and-red Cubs T-shirt, Nicolo helps me into it, and it’s large enough to hang down around my thighs.
“Why are you being so nice?” I ask, my sleep-addled brain short-circuiting my filter.
Nicolo pauses, as though I’ve asked him an exceptionally deep question. “Well, I guess… I just want you to be okay,” he says finally, his tone laced with concern.
I smile drowsily as he puts me in his bed and pulls the covers up around me.
“Why are you smiling?” he asks, amusement and confusion filling his face.
“It’s nice,” I say simply, already half asleep.
“What?”
“That you care.”
I think he chuckles, but I’m already asleep, so I can’t be sure.
It’sa warm summer’s day, the heat hovering around me like a heavy blanket as I stand out in the sunshine, my face turned up to feel it kiss my skin. As I wait on the street corner, I don’t have a care in the world. I’m waiting for someone, but that doesn’t matter.
When Nicolo’s black Maserati pulls up, I realize it must be him who’s picking me up. My heart flutters with excitement, and I make my way around the car to slide into the passenger seat.
He must have the AC turned up full blast because, as I sit, I feel as though I’ve stepped into a freezer. Sweat from the heat of the day turns to frost on my skin, and I turn to Nicolo to ask him to turn the air down. But it’s not Nicolo. It’s Alexia Gatti.
“You did this to yourself,” he mocks, his tone teasing, though his eyes are murderous.
Suddenly, I’m in a nightmare of my own making as Alexia throws the car in drive, and we speed away. Terror freezes me in my chair, and my lungs feel as though I’ve swallowed cement. I can’t breathe, can’t speak. I’m trapped in my immobility.
And then the frigid car transforms. Tied to a hard wooden chair, I try to make sense of my surroundings, but all I see are lights and shadows. Alexia approaches, knife in hand.
“Where shall we start?” he asks conversationally. “Your face?”
The cold blade slides across my skin like a sliver of ice.
“No,” he rasps. “I think we’ll start with your throat.”
Fire rips across my vocal cords as he slices my neck wide open. I try to scream, but I can’t. He’s silenced me forever. Wet blood spatters across my cheeks as my head falls back. Overwhelming fear consumes me as I bleed out. The bloodcurdling shriek of some otherworldly being coming to drag me to hell jolts through my body like a defibrillator. I thrash as its warm arms wrap around me, pulling me down to the soft, grounding me.
I wake with a start,the sound of my own scream startling me into consciousness. My pulse pounds through me at a thousand miles a minute.
“Easy, easy! It’s just a dream, Anya. Just a dream.”
Nicolo’s deep, urgent voice calms me, his strong arms holding me close against his chest, warming my back as he brings me back to reality. My scream peters into a sob as I realize I’m not dead; I’m no longer at Alexia’s mercy. I shudder violently at the image of the older Gatti brother’s sneering face burned into my mind.
“You’re okay,” Nicolo promises, his soft hand brushing hair away from my face as he leans up onto one elbow so he can look at me. His fingers stroke the tears from my cheeks as my throat burns from how hard I screamed.
The deep concern in his eyes fills me with a smoldering fire, and all I want to do is wipe the memory of Alexia and Troy Gatti from my mind. I want to forget everything. Without taking a moment to think, to calm myself, I lean up off my pillow and capture Nicolo’s lips with my own.
He tenses, seeming momentarily shocked by my adamant kiss. Then he’s shifting on top of me as I roll beneath him, turning to face him as his body aligns with mine. My fingers tangle in his dark curls as I close my eyes, and I kiss him with all the emotion building inside me.
His lips are passionate yet tender, bending to my hunger as he strokes his tongue out to twine with mine. He tastes of spearmint toothpaste, and the deeply masculine scent of his cologne fills my nose, surrounding me as it roots me in the moment.
His arms encompass me as his body presses me into the mattress, and I feel him growing hard against my hips. My hands release his hair to run down over his well-muscled back, and I find that he’s not wearing a shirt. My heart hammers against my ribs, bruising them with its force, but I don’t care. All I want is for Nicolo to make my mind go blank.
Shifting my attention to my makeshift nighty to make my intentions clear, I grip the hem of the oversized T-shirt and start to pull it up over my hips, my waist, and my ribs. Nicolo obliges me, lifting up off of me to help me along. I shove the fabric over my head and sit up to help Nicolo out of his basketball shorts.
“You’re sure?” he murmurs as I pull him down on top of me once more.
“I want you, Nico,” I gasp. “Please.”
