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Two minutes later, I’m waving goodbye to the harried man as he makes a beeline for the door, a brown paper bag of books tucked under one arm. Nico waits for him to leave, then strolls around the bookshop counter, invading my personal space like he owns it.
Jerk.
I really shouldn’t like it this much.
But sure enough, my breath catches as he cages me in against the counter, gripping the wood on either side of my ribs, and as he towers over me, my head swims. I bite back a smile. “Why were you kneeling for him, bella?”
He’s dressed all in black again today, his clothes tailored and speckled with snowflakes. Is the black a fashion statement, or is it to hide the inevitable blood splatters?
“For sexual reasons, obviously.”
I grin as Nico glares, squeezing the wood counter behind me until it creaks. Definitely shouldn’t provoke the mobster like this, but I can’t help myself—and I know in my bones that he’d never hurt me.
Spank me, maybe. Boss me around, sure.
But hurt me? Nope, where I’m concerned, Nico Falasca is all bark but no bite. Just like I’m blustering aboutsexual reasonsbut I’ve never touched a man like that in my whole life.
“You are trying to make me jealous,” Nico grinds out.
“Trying and succeeding.”
In fairness, he makes it very easy. The mobster is wound tight, a muscle leaping in his jaw, and with his warmth so near my front, the faint scent of his citrus aftershave in the air, he’s not the only one struggling to keep his cool.
There are only a few inches between us. I could spread my palm over his hard stomach; could feel the ridged muscles through his open coat, the fabric of his shirt warm under my touch. Could slide my hand lower—
“You need to be more careful.” Nico speaks softly, scanning the bookshop over my shoulder, and oh yeah: the rest of the world still exists. There’s a teenage couple giggling in the travel section, and an old man keeps peeking over at us from the new releases, scandalized at my behavior. Oops. “Don’t tuck yourself away with strangers. They may not be who they seem.”
My scoff is breathless. It’s hard to think when he’s this near, caging me in, his gaze dropping to my mouth before it shoots back to my eyes. The mobster is taller than me. Bigger, stronger, harsher. Moreeverything.
“I hardly think that dentist was any kind of threat—”
“You don’t know.” Without warning, Nico grabs my wrist, holding my arm between us with two fingers on my pulse point. He watches me, eyebrows lowered, as my heart thrums faster. “The people who hurt me may have seen me take shelter here. They may come for you.”
I swallow hard, tongue heavy. “Why would they do that?”
“To hurt me even worse,” Nico says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Um. What?
The radio splutters on the edge of the counter, a Christmas song crackling as it hits the second verse. The cheeriness is jarring. The shop door tinkles again, the old man shuffling out into the cold, and a wintry breeze gusts through the open doorway.
I did not sign on for this: threats and blood and feeling the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I snatch my arm back, but not before Nico feels my pulse spike in fear. He nods, all grim satisfaction now that his message has been received.
“You will regret helping me that night, bella.”
Well, hell. Maybe I already do.
Except… no. I don’t and I never will, because the alternative is too awful to think about: Nico Falasca left out on the frosty sidewalk outside my bookshop with a stab wound in his side, in terrible pain and unable to call for help.
The mobster jolts as I place both palms on his waist. The open sides of his coat brush against my forearms, and he’s so vibrant, so solid, soalive.Surprise flits across his handsome face and makes him seem vulnerable, if only for a split second.
My thumbs rub against his shirt. “I won’t regret it.”
Nico lets out a slow breath.
“And you won’t let anyone hurt me.”
He pauses, then nods. So that’s settled, right? Rightly or wrongly, I trust this strange man, and there’s one more thing left to handle between us.
