Page 24 of Nicoli

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Of course it is.” These men never give you straight, true answers. Everything is either a bullshit response or a fucking riddle.

“If you don’t mind? Caelian and I were in the middle of a conversation until your rude ass interrupted.”

Caelian smirks, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Yeah, I heard. So, you want to be a party planner.”

“Dream maker,” I correct him while framing my glare with batting eyelashes.

Nicoli crosses his arms. “Alexius won’t fall for it.”

“It’s not up to him.”

“Of course, it is. Everything revolving around this family is up to him.”

I stand, cross my arms, and mimic his stance, shooting out a hip for good measure. “And why won’t he fall for it?”

“Because the last thing he wants is a member of this family being out there planning other people’s parties and weddings and shit—”

“And shit?”

“—unprotected and vulnerable. An easy fucking target.”

“An easy target?” I seethe. “You think I can’t protect myself? That I’m this vulnerable little princess whose only place is in a goddamn tower brushing her hair and looking pretty all day?”

Nicoli shrugs. “Sounds about right.”

“Screw you, Nicoli. I can take care of myself. And the last time I checked, this is a free country, which means I can do whatever I want.”

“Haven’t you heard? This country's laws don’t apply to us. We make our own. And one of our rules is that every member of this family will remain protected twenty-four-fucking-seven. You going out there and planning parties and shit—”

“And shit?”

“—and going to nightclubs and bars is not protection. On the contrary, it’s asking for trouble.”

Caelian chuckles, clearly enjoying watching the back-and-forth between Nicoli and me.

I shift my weight and square my shoulders. “I’m not asking for your permission, Nicoli. And neither do I need your approval. This is my life, and I choose what to do with it. Not Mrs. Del Rossa. Not Alexius. And sure as hell, not you.”

Nicoli lets out a humorous laugh. “We’ll see.” He turns on his heel and walks away.

“What the hell does that mean?We’ll see. We’ll see what?” I turn to face Caelian with a giant question mark on my face.

“Don’t ask me. What do I know about this continued drama between you and my brother? I’m just here for the sheer entertainment of it.”

“Ugh.” Frustrated and pissed off, I stomp out of the living room, fuming while rushing to my room. I don’t care if anyone hears me slamming my bedroom door. It’s the only place in this goddamn house where I feel I can breathe without running the risk of being reprimanded and told what to do. I’m not a child. I’m not a Del Rossa wife. I’m not even a Del Rossa. God, I wish I was in Tuscany with Nicoli’s mom right now, living my life far away from these controlling freaks who suffocate me with their oppressive expectations.

I kick off my shoes and step out of my dress, dropping it on the floor. My room. My dress. My floor.

I yank open the cabinet and snatch a cotton pad, wiping away the makeup on my face. The scar stretching down the side is more visible and enhanced without foundation masking its presence.

I grab the orange and bergamot candle, strike a match, and light the wick, desperate for some peace. It’s been a day, and all I want to do is take a long bubble bath and feel all the negative energy drain from my body. And by negative energy, I mean Nicoli. And Alexius. And pretty much all the Del Rossa men. I just need some me time without being bombarded with orders and everyone else telling me what I can and cannot do. At least I have some control over choosing which bubble bath I want to soak in. Magnolia blossom…which is not where it’s supposed to be because Leandra used it last night. Seriously?

I have other options, other bubble baths I can use, like rhubarb and rose or jasmine. But I’m so determined to do what I want and not what other people’s actions force me to do—like borrow my goddamn bubble bath—that I choose to wrap a towel around myself and stalk down the hall to get my magnolia blossom bubble bath.

I peek out of my bedroom, scanning the hallway for signs of life. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I tiptoe across the lacquered floors, rushing toward Leandra and Alexius’ room. I clutch the towel tightly in front of my chest, peering behind me every few steps. As I turn the corner, I walk straight into a brick wall with a pulse.

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