Page 16 of Nicoli

“You okay?”

I yelp at Leandra, who appears out of fucking nowhere. “Goddammit. If you woke up this morning intending to give me a heart attack today, you almost succeeded.”

Her amber-brown eyes narrow as she studies me. “Why are you so…flustered?”

“I, um…” I look and point at the hook in the wall, frown, and glance down at the floor. “I just…” Nope. No. I can’t do it. I can’t form a coherent thought, meaning I have zero chance of responding.

“Mira? Are you okay?” She touches my forehead with the back of her hand. “You need to sit down for a bit?”

“No,” I finally manage to say. “But I do need a drink.”

ChapterSix

NICOLI

My bedroom door slams shut behind me, the windows shuddering in their frames. What the fuck did I almost do?

“Jesus, Nicoli. You fucking asshole!” I jerk off my coat and toss it on the black tufted couch, yanking the tie from my collar while stomping across the carpet.

The crystal bourbon decanter is cold against my heated palm as I pour myself a drink at—I glance at my bedside clock—ten in the morning. I hesitate for a split second.Fuck it.Ten in the morning is as good a time as any.

The amber liquid glistens in the glass as I bring it up to my mouth, smelling the oak and spice before the velvety texture slips down my throat, the sting of alcohol settling in my stomach. One mouthful isn’t enough, so I drain every last drop, loving how it numbs my insides. That’s what I need right now. To be numbed.

Numb from feeling anything. Especially when it comes to her.

She came to us an orphan, a little girl with the yellow jacket and curly white hair. A girl with big green eyes that bewitched me into becoming fiercely protective over her. A girl who had me wrapped around her tiny finger since the first time she stared up at me from my mother’s side. I would read her bedtime stories and chase her through the garden while her laughter bounced off the red peonies. She would draw butterflies and rainbows on my arms, and cat whiskers on my cheeks. There were countless days I willingly walked through this house with scribbles on my face, looking like an idiot, all because it made her happy. It made her smile. And to me, it was worth the insults my brothers threw at me.

In this house, I was her ward until one moment in time changed the entire trajectory of our lives. The day I lost her.

My nostrils flare as I slam down the glass, immediately pouring myself another one. If I ever needed to get drunk off my ass this early in the morning, now would be that time.

Just like the first glass, the second one doesn’t erase the image of her plump, inviting, red lips inches from mine. I could smell the richness of the chocolate croissant she had for breakfast, fused with her perfume—the scent that lingers in her bedroom at night while I watch her sleep.

“So close,” I mutter.

It almost snapped, the tether that keeps me from losing control around her. All these years of keeping my distance, building that wall between us one reluctant brick at a time, came seconds away from crumbling. For what? A simple kiss? I nearly broke a promise I made years ago because my fucking mouth salivated to taste her. And now what she tastes like is all I can think about. Sweet cherries? Ripe raspberries? No. Her blood-red lips probably taste like something more exciting. Seductive.

Pomegranate. I bet it’s pomegranates. A scarlet fruit that tastes like cranberries but doesn’t. Tart like blueberries, but not. It’s a unique taste. Exotic and sharp-edged, like her. One of a kind.

Unique.

“Fuck!” I fling my empty glass across the room, glass shattering against the wall. My dick throbs like a motherfucker, and there isn’t a pussy in this goddamn universe that’ll relieve the ache. Except hers. And that thought alone makes me want to break every glass in this entire fucking house because it’s terrifying knowing that no matter how hard I try to fuck my way through life, try to fuck her out of my system, it’ll never work. The debilitating desire will never go away. Not unless I have her, and that’s something I’ll never allow myself.

Not her. Ever.

I pull my hands through my hair, tugging at the strands as I sit on the couch. I have no idea how this happened. It was one minute. Sixty fucking seconds. And in that time, I kissed her, tore her clothes off, slammed her back against that wall, and fucked her until she screamed while her cunt creamed my cock. I wonder if her pussy’s bare. Hollywood style. Brazilian, maybe. Or that cute little landing strip—a GPS location pin for pussy.

My eyes drift closed, trying to imagine her naked body. But I can’t. I never could. It’s like my mind cockblocks me when it comes to Mira. I can’t imagine her naked because there is nothing, no other woman I can use as a comparison because this is Mirabella. She’s perfection personified. If I had to put her in a cage, I’d never let her out. I would stare at her all day, all night, every day until the world comes to an end.

Landing strip. It has to be a landing strip.

God, why am I even thinking about this? She probably keeps it all neat and tidy with nothing more than a bikini wax since she’s never been with a man. She’s never even had a boyfriend—we made sure of that. Guys at school didn’t dare look her way, or they’d end up with their eyeballs shoved up their assholes. And the men in this town know if they want to keep their testicles inside their ballsacks, they better not even send as much as a smile in her direction.

Mirabella is this family’s most priceless gem, and we protect her as such. But to me, she’s my soul and has been ever since the night I experienced genuine pain through a little girl’s eyes.

I roll onto my side,the bedside clock saying it’s three minutes past midnight. I’ve been tossing and turning for two hours, but I can’t sleep. It’s been a month since Maximo and Mirabella arrived here, two orphans who lost their parents. They hardly spoke at first, but after Mirabella’s fifth birthday, spoiling her with a ginormous fairy tale castle cake and what seemed like fifty princess dresses, Mira started warming up to us, and soon after, so did Maximo.

They don’t talk about what happened that night. My dad told us how their family was gruesomely murdered and how they, too, would be dead if it weren’t for my dad’s men arriving just in time. He only told us about it because he wants Alexius and me to know the risks and dangers of being a part of a family such as ours. Everything has a price. Our family’s wealth, our power, the special treatment we get wherever we go, it has a cost. The grass might be greener on our side of the world, but that only means we have to work extra hard to keep it that way. The hard part isn’t getting to the top; it’s staying there. As the saying goes, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ It’s our family’s blessing and its curse.

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