Page 163 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“Mom would kill us if she saw this,” he says as I hand him a glass.

“Dad would help her hide the bodies,” I agree.

We drink in silence for a moment.

“You’re bleeding,” Nico finally says, pointing at my ribs.

“Got shot last night. Home invasion.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Seems to be a theme in my life.”

More silence. The wine is exquisite, but I barely taste it.

“I loved her,” I say suddenly. “Tatiana. It wasn’t fake for me. Not at the end.”

Nico studies his wine. “I know.”

“You know?”

“I saw how you looked at her. Even as you were setting up that fucked-up dinner.”

I close my eyes. “Then why do what you did?”

Nico swirls his wine, his expression unreadable. “Because it was my twisted way of getting back at you for... this.” He points at his scarred face. “And because I needed to know if you’d still choose me above everything else.”

The truth of it lands like a physical blow. “And I failed that test spectacularly.”

“Actually,” he says, “you passed it. You proved my point. Guilt is still ruling you.” He takes a long drink. “And it’s ruling me too. Using your guilt to manipulate you. Holding onto my anger because it’s easier than healing.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s the most honest conversation we’ve had in years.

“We need help, Nico,” I finally say. “Real help. Therapy. Not this toxic shit we’ve been doing.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “But in the meantime, pour me another glass.”

We drink until the bottle is empty, and somehow end up singing old Italian songs our grandfather taught us, horribly off-key. For a brief moment, we’re just brothers again. Not damaged men carrying the weight of one terrible night.

When we finally stop, exhausted and drunk, Nico looks at me with something approaching clarity.

“You should go to her,” he says. “Don’t let her go. Don’t let my fucked up revenge ruin your life.”

“She signed the annulment papers this morning,” I tell him. “It’s over.”

“Have you signed them?”

“Not yet.”

“Then it’s not over,” he says simply.

I shake my head. “You didn’t see her face, Nico. The disgust. The hurt.”

“Yeah I did, actually. I was there, remember? Relishing every moment in my own twisted way. Sorry about that.”

I sigh, shake my head. “I betrayed her in the worst possible way.”

“So fix it.”

---