Page 44 of Nicoli

“Do you know why Dad would have Marco’s date of death almost ten years after the night of the Tirelli massacre?”

There’s a second that my demeanor falters, and Alexius immediately picks up on it. My brother can smell my bullshit a mile away. God, I hate him. I don’t really. But I do.

I swirl the bottle between my fingers, putting on the most ironclad poker face known to man. “Why, if you found this file after Dad died, are you only asking me about it now?”

He crosses his legs, leaning back, acting like a cool and confident dick. “One of the most important things Dad taught me was patience.”

“And one of the most important things he taught me was how to kick my twin brother in the balls.”

“Sarcasm has always been your defense mechanism.”

“And being a dickhead, yours.”

“I know you’re protecting her,” he says evenly. “And I know that sooner or later you’re going to have to tell me exactly what it is that you’re protecting her from.”

“I should have protected her from me. But I couldn’t even do that.”

Maximo clears his throat, standing by the entrance and locking eyes with Alexius. “Leandra is looking for you. She’s out on the patio.”

In my head, I’m kissing Maximo’s ass right now and cuddling him under a willow tree for saving me from what has the potential of being a very unpleasant conversation. I smirk at my brother. “You’ve been summoned.”

He simply glowers at me, standing. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“Oh, but it is.” I pour two gulps down my throat, watching my brother walk out. But he pauses when he reaches the door, giving Maximo and me a knowing look—his silent way of saying he knows we’re two pricks with a secret.

When he’s gone, I open my mouth and feel the air rush back in. My chest is hollow, a big fucking black hole that swallows my goddamn life. I sink back in my seat. “He’s going to keep pushing until he squeezes every last drop of the truth out of me.”

Maximo strolls over and places his hands on the back of his chair, his leather jacket crinkling around the width of his arms. A cigarette dangles between his lips, the smoke suffocating the scent of honeyed beeswax that always lingers in this room.

“Maybe we should tell him.”

I almost choke on my own spit. “Excuse me? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He takes the last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it in the crystal ashtray shaped like a dollar sign. “Maybe it’s time, Nicoli.”

My heart halts instantly and then starts beating again, but too fast. “No fucking way. No. We agreed that Mira can never know the truth.”

“I’m not saying she needs to know everything, just the part that matters.”

“And what part is that, huh? Which part do you think matters the most? The part about your older brother being responsible for your parents’ deaths? Or—”

“Yes!” he snaps. “That part. I hate that she mourns him, too, when she thinks about what we lost. He doesn’t deserve her grief.”

“It’s too risky, Maximo. If we tell her the truth about Marco, she could figure out all the rest. And that can’t happen.”

“Who’s to say knowing the truth about him will let her remember everything else?”

“Stop! We agreed that we would keep it between us. You and me and my father.”

“And I’ve always trusted your father to know what’s best for everyone,” he says, his brow creased with hard lines. “Which is why I agreed to keep this secret from everyone else. And I never questioned him. Not once. But a lot has changed since your father died, Nicoli. And that makes me wonder if he’d feel the same if he was still here.” He gives me a knowing look. “I don’t think he would if he knew how you felt about my sister. What you’re sacrificing for her.”

“What I’m sacrificing doesn’t matter. What I feel doesn’t matter. All that matters is protecting her from the truth.” I nail him with a pointed glare. “Allof it.”

“Alexius won’t tell her.”

“Leandra has my brother’s balls wrapped around her goddamn pinky, and all it’ll take is a sixty-nine, a swallow, and a fucking hand job in the church pew for him to sing like a motherfucking bird. And if she knows, so will Mira.”

Maximo sighs and rolls his shoulders as if they weigh too much. “Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath. “Fuck you, Marco.” Venom laces his words. “Every time she mentions his name, my fucking skin crawls. I swear to God, there will come a day that I lose my shit and let everything slip.”

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