Page 25 of Saint
He gestures to the leather couch, but I’m too wired to sit. Instead, I pace the length of his living room, hands clenching and unclenching at my sides.
“She ran,” I finally say, the words burning my throat like acid. “To Albany. To her father’s fucking mansion.”
Nico’s eyebrows lift slightly. “The governor’s daughter? That’s who has you tied in knots?”
I whirl on him, ready to snap, but the understanding in his eyes deflates my anger. He’s the only person in the world who can look at me like that without consequences.
“Her name is Lily,” I say, softer now. “And yes, she’s Jackson Moore’s daughter.”
Nico lets out a low whistle. “You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“Never have.” I finally drop onto his couch, running a hand through my hair. “She’s... different, Nico. Smart. Fierce. Sees right through my bullshit.”
“And beautiful, I assume.”
I close my eyes, seeing her face—those striking blue eyes, that full mouth that trembles when I touch her. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
When I open my eyes, Nico is watching me with an expression I can’t quite place. Something between amusement and concern.
“What?” I demand.
“I’ve known you since we were stealing candy bars from Old Man Russo’s store, Luca. I’ve never seen you like this over a woman.”
“I’m not—” I start to protest, then stop. What’s the point in lying to Nico? “Fine. Yes. I’m fucking obsessed with her. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. I want her under me, over me, beside me. I want her safe. Protected. Mine.”
Nico sits in the armchair across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “And she ran from you. Why?”
The question hits a nerve. “Because I came on too strong. Because she’s young and skittish and doesn’t understand what we could be together.”
“Or because you scared her,” Nico suggests quietly.
I glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. Never has. Even when we were kids, Nico was the only one who stood his ground when I got angry.
“You think I don’t know how to handle a woman?” I scoff.
“I think you know how to handle business associates, enemies, and women who want nothing more than a night with Luca Ravello,” he counters. “But a woman you actually care about? That’s uncharted territory for you, my friend.”
I start to argue, then close my mouth. He’s not wrong.
“Don’t forget I pushed Caterina away,” Nico says after a moment.
This gets my attention. “I know. I remember.”
He smiles, a private, content expression I’ve never seen on him before. “I didn’t want to put her in danger, and I didn’t want to leave the priesthood. Her father didn’t want to lose his bargaining chip and would have put me in the ground if it wasn’t for you.”
“I did what any friend would do,” I assure him. Nico never has to thank me for anything.
“Well, I’m glad you’re my friend and not my enemy,” Nico pats my arm and takes a seat.
“How did you get her to fall in love with you? I thought I had Lily in the palm of my hand, and she left.”
“Not by threatening her or trying to control her,” Nico says pointedly. “If your Lily needs space, then you need to give it to her.”
“I don’t have that kind of patience,” I growl.
“Then you don’t love her,” Nico says simply. “You just want to possess her.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. “That’s not—I’m not—” I struggle to articulate the depth of my feelings for Lily. It’s more than possession, more than desire. It’s a need to protect her, to see her smile, to make her happy.
