Page 38 of Nicoli

“Old? You’ll be…” She starts counting on her fingers, her nose scrunched up as she fries her brain. “Thirty-one. You’ll be thirty-one. You’re right. That is old.”

“See? Told you.”

“But it’s okay.” She shrugs. “I’ll still marry you. I don’t want you to get old alone. That would suck.”

I laugh. “You’ll do me that favor, huh?”

“I would.”

“How about we focus on getting you through school first.”

“I’m serious, Li.”

“So am I. Besides, maybe I’ll be married by the time you’re twenty-two, then you don’t have to do me that favor.”

“But—”

“Or you might have found some handsome prince you’d much rather marry than an old ogre.”

“Let’s do this.” Mira catches me off guard and snatches the white ribbon from my hands, yanking my left hand closer and slowly winding it around my ring finger. “I promise that if I haven’t found my prince by my twenty-second birthday,” she ties the ribbon in a crooked bow, “I’ll be your princess.” Her smile makes the sunny afternoon pale in comparison. “And you know I always keep my promises.” She holds out her pinky. “Deal?”

I can continue this conversation by stating that I might have a wife by then, but that would just delay the inevitable, which is me saying yes. Mira has the talent to go on and on and nag until she gets you to say what she wants you to. Well, with me, anyway.

I loop my pinky finger around hers and give it a solid shake. “Deal.”

“Yay.” She giggles and leans into me, her curls tickling my chin. “I can’t wait to be a Del Rossa.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I think I’ll make a great Del Rossa.”

I chuckle, unable to argue that. She has the qualities a true Del Rossa needs to survive in this world. Feisty, independent, and unafraid.

My little hummingbird.

ChapterFourteen

MIRABELLA

I’m unsure whether my heart stopped or if it dropped to the soles of my feet. All I know is that it’s not beating anymore. I can’t feel it. I can’t hear it pulsing between my ears. Not while I’m staring at him, naked, standing by the side of the bed. And her? She’s on her back, on the bed in front of him, her thighs spread, one leg hooked around his waist while the other is pressed against his chest. Her dark hair is fanned out on his sheets, her nipples hard, the look of ecstasy clinging to her flushed cheeks. There’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead, both their bodies glistening with exertion. Judging by their position, he’s buried deep inside her.

I drop my bag to the floor. There’s a strange tug in my chest, one that burns and aches simultaneously. I’ve always known Nicoli is no saint. I watched his car pull out of the driveway after midnight numerous times, knowing he was going to Myth for only one reason. To fuck. But at least it didn’t happen here where I had to see it, bear witness to it as I’m doing now. Knowing about it is different than seeing it. Seeing it makes it real, and being unable to unsee it worsens it.

I can’t move as my mind races. It takes me no more than ten seconds to realize what’s happening.

His message about wanting to see me in his bedroom—something I knew was odd—and his bedroom door wide open, which it never is. It’s all planned. Staged. He wanted me to walk in on him fucking another woman. Paula, no less. The one woman I’ve never liked simply because her skirts are always too short, and she was the closest thing Nicoli’s ever had to a girlfriend.

Nicoli planned this. He wanted to hurt me. He wants me to hate him. That’s been his MO for the last nine years, and I haven’t figured out why. And now here I am, hardly able to feel the ground beneath my feet while I stare in front of me at the man who owns my heart fucking another woman. My head is spinning from the champagne, thoughts racing as anger grows inside me. I’m so sick of him and his endless mind games, how he so easily fucks with my head. But that ends now. I’m calling his bluff tonight. I’m not going to run away and cry or scream and curse, I’m going to beat him at his own twisted little game.

I step inside the bedroom and slam the door shut. It’s then that Paula finally notices me and sends me a wicked grin before looking at Nicoli. “I knew keeping the door open meant someone was joining us. I just figured it would be Caelian.” Her hooded eyes glance in my direction. “Who is she?”

“Shut the fuck up, Paula,” he demands, his voice low and gruff.

I pin my eyes on him, slowly unbuttoning the front of my dress. He’s not moving even though Paula is squirming on the sheets. I don’t say a word, letting my actions do all the talking. Maybe my confidence is mixed with shock and the copious amount of champagne bubbling in my veins, but I don’t really care. I’m determined to have Nicoli’s plan blow up in his beautiful fucking face.

My dress pools around my feet, and my breasts sway as I hook my fingers in the sides of my white lace panties, shimmying as I let them slide down my legs. Just like the night before, I’m standing naked in front of Nicoli, and he has the same look in his eyes. Fiery blue irises burning with something fierce, a hunger that slides onto every line in his face. Only this time, I’m not spineless or speechless. I’m not frozen or barely breathing because Nicoli Del Rossa made a big show of smelling my pussy. I’m ready to play him at his own game.

“What are you doing, Mira?” he asks, his voice thick with lust.

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