Page 6 of Violent Delights

Iwasn’t nervous, but there was a distinct uptick in my heartbeat at the thought of seeing her again. This is going to be difficult. Meeting in secret, we know the risks. There are so many, some that could get her killed, which is why we need to be careful.

Even though I’ve spent most of my life in the shadows, she’s the driving force behind my choices now. She shouldn’t be, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to keep her safe. To hold her close and tell her things are going to be okay.

Even though it’s not something I can promise.

If my father found out I’ve been seeing a Vitale behind his back, I could get us both killed.

As I make my way up the spiral staircase, I take deep breaths, knowing I’m putting both our lives in danger, but also just wanting to be close to her.

Lelia is already waiting when I step onto the rooftop. Her long, chestnut waves hang down her back. The wind picks up the strands and causes them to dance around her. She’s dressed in the most demure outfit, which hides her beautiful curves. Her sweatpants and that hoodie she’s always hiding under are loose-fitting, but I know what she looks like in a ballgown.

A princess.

The Boss of the Vitale clan’s daughter.

The sweet, forbidden beauty shifts on her feet, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, she focuses on the view from the trellis. The city is vast, sprawling like a sleeping giant awaiting its moment to attack.

Growing up here, I’ve always wanted to run away. My father loves the dark underbelly of New York, but I didn’t want to be hidden in the shadows, moving like a sniper unseen. My choice to stay out of the organization could only lastthatlong. It’s time I step up, but if I do, it means I could put Lelia in more danger than before.

When she finally turns to me, I smile. This is what I’ve been like since I first laid my eyes on hers. There’s a lightness to my usually brooding exterior that I’m thankful my father hasn’t yet noticed.

“Nico,” she whispers my name, her lilting accent feint but there nonetheless.

“I didn’t think you’d be early,” I tell her as I move closer, my hands sliding onto her hips, and I pull her toward me.

“I had to get out of the house. Cassio is driving me insane.” The mention of her cousin’s name is like fuel to my veins. The hatred I have for her family—her cousin more than any other—always burns through my body. Even though Lia is eighteen, she’s still under the rule of her family. When I was eighteen, I’d already killed for my father.

“What has he done?” I whisper as I pull her toward the marble stones that I know they’re using to repair the cathedral.

We settle in, and I know she’s going to vent to me. The idea of her trusting me with her heartache and worries settles the nerves that are sparked with anger.

“I have to tell you something.” Her words send rage crawling under my skin like a million ants, ready to attack.

“You can tell me anything. You know that.” I want to reach for her, but I have a feeling this is something she needs to confess on her own.

There’s a heavy silence as we sit there. I want to shake the answers out of her, but I know it won’t work. I definitely have trouble with patience. It’s not my strong suit.

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. Something is off. And I feel it deep in my gut before I even understand why. Lia sighs, shakes her head, and then she starts speaking. “He’s just watching me now more than ever. There are some meetings taking place with Bosses from other organizations. My father is trying to strike a deal.”

I’m on my feet before I have time to consider what I’m doing. My fist slams into the wall. Blood drips from the cracked skin on my knuckles, but I don’t feel it. There is no pain greater than that of having the person you feel at peace with being ripped away from you.

She doesn’t have to explain what thedealis because I know what that means.

A gentle touch on my shoulder calms me somewhat. I turn to her and she steps to the side, giving me enough space but also keeping close in case I want to hold her. Lia always moved like she knew someone was watching. Poised but never performative, graceful in a way that didn’t ask for attention but got it anyway.

The wind pulls strands of her hair from the waves down her back, and for a second I just watch her, memorizing the shape of her silhouette against the fading dusk.

I didn’t want to be there. But I didn’t want to leave.

“I’m sorry.” She turns away and walks to the edge of the roof, the railing keeping her safe, but the tension in my shoulders only seems to tighten seeing her in such a dangerous space.

I walk toward where she’s standing, and before I press my hands to the metal railing, she turns in my arms. There is no fear in her gaze. She knows I will never hurt her. It’s as if she can sense me the closer I get to her. Those pretty eyes find mine with that same guarded softness that has been undoing me piece by piece since the moment we met.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, voice low, pained, like she hurt herself by confessing what she just did. “It’s not happening right now, but it will.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised by what you told me. You’re the principessa. You should be bartered like all women in the family.” I force myself to shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, trying to keep my expression neutral. Cool. Detached. The usual lies I wear when I am around her. That is until she unravels me and I confess my feelings to her.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask her and lean in closer so she can’t look away from me. I can’t have her focus on anything but me right now.

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