Page 43 of Nicoli

I frown at the bottle as if it’s a living thing taking part in this useless conversation. “The scale of how I fucked up.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

I scoff. “I tipped the scales, brother. I tipped the motherfucking scales.”

Alexius snatches the bottle from me and chugs a mouthful, grimacing as he passes it back to me. “It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

I meet his gaze with a flat stare. “I’m well aware.”

“And we’re all going out.”

“After Dark?”

Alexius shrugs, and I already know Leandra got his balls in a twist. She probably sucked his dick until he caved and gave permission.

“If you’re thinking Leandra got my balls in a twist and sucked my dick until I caved and gave permission…you’re wrong.”

I lift a brow.

“She sucked my dick and then proceeded to fuck my brains out. Only then did I cave.”

“Well,” I bring the bottle to my lips, “if you put it that way, then I guess it makes sense that you’re sending both her and Mira into the lion’s den. A good fucking is always worth putting the ones you love in danger.”

“Maximo will have eyes and ears everywhere. The fucking president can go to that club tomorrow night, and he’d be safer than in his oval office. So don’t start your shit with me,” Alexius warns, taking his seat at the polished table, his chair embroidered with the gold and silver crest. What a fucking joke—gold and silver. We’re not gold. We’re not silver. We’re pitch fucking black. The whole lot of us. We think we protect the people we love when all we do is fuck shit up. It’s a family curse that stems from that damn creepy-as-hell mausoleum. Everything started there on the night that changed everything.

I shift in my seat, dragging my palm down my loosened tie. “I’m not starting anything. Just saying it the way I see it.”

“Are you going to make it right?”

I look up from the half-empty bottle of bourbon in my hand, unamused by his subject change. “Did you miss the memo? She hates me now. There’s nothing to make right.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I didn’t want any of this,” I snap.

“Then why are you so hellbent on pushing her away?”

“Because it’s fucking necessary.” I swallow another mouthful of bourbon that burns as it travels down my insides. “But turns out that a bullet to the brain would suck less than this.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re hiding?”

I press my lips in a thin line, a silent answer that he picks up on immediately.

Alexius leans back in his seat. “Let’s play the game we used to play when we were kids. I guess, and if I guess correctly, you have to tell me.”

I snort. “You’ll never be able to guess this one, brother. I guarantee it.”

“I can guess that it has to do with Mirabella’s parents’ murder. About the Ferrero family being responsible.”

“Oh, dear brother.” I scoff. “You’re barely scratching the surface.”

“I also know that you’re hiding something that has to do with Marco.”

I stiffen. “What makes you say that?”

“I was going through Dad’s things after he died. I found a file on Marco, and what I found particularly interesting was his date of death.”

Chills wrack up my spine, heat tingling the back of my neck.

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