Page 48 of Nicoli

“Come on, guys,” he starts. “We’re all adults here. Let the women be.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Alexius barks.

“Listen, it’s Mira’s birthday. Let the girls have a good time. God knows they deserve it for being able to live under the same roof as the lot of us.”

“If you weren’t my brother, I’d shoot you.” Alexius flattens Caelian with a stare that could inflict immense pain and suffering. Isaia snickers in the background, drawing my attention, only to see Nicoli standing next to him. My heart hiccups, then it comes back to full-steam mode, my thoughts and resolve hijacked by the sight of him. His hair fades into the black of night, his crystal blue eyes glittering like beacons in the dark. There aren’t enough adjectives in the English language that can describe the perfection that is Nicoli Del Rossa. He used to be my prince. Now…he’s my villain.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I let it seep through. The pain. The heartache. The longing. But I hold his gaze, and he slowly looks down my body to the top of my Jimmy Choo heels and back up again. His stare turns to ice, and I feel it spread across my skin, its chill settling in my bones. And then he starts toward me like a bulldozer ready to demolish my dreams of a fun night.

I’m going to throw up.

Maximo rushes over, and I glare at my brother. “You said he wasn’t joining us.”

“He’s not, so relax.”

“Then what is he doing here?”

Nicoli practically shoves Maximo out of the way, standing so fucking close I can smell the coffee he had at breakfast. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Get out of my face, Nicoli.”

“You can’t seriously think what you’re wearing is appropriate. It doesn’t even qualify as a shirt, not to a mention a fucking dress.”

I level him with a glare, lifting my chin in defiance. “You are the last person to lecture me about what’s appropriate.”

“I insist that you find something else to wear.”

“And I insist you find someone else’s life to ruin.”

His nostrils flare, his lips drawn back. “Don’t play this game with me, Mira.”

“You started this game, so I will fucking play it.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“And for the first time in my life, I don’t give a fuck about mistakes anymore.” I inch even closer, and I’m sure he can taste my confidence on the tip of his tongue. “And I have you to thank for that. So, get the hell out of my way.”

The breath of distance between us pulses with electricity. It’s palpable and intense, like a looming thunderstorm thickening the air. He doesn’t move, and neither do I. We’re two solid lines on a drawing board. Bold. Hard. And impossible to go around.

Nicoli’s expression is nothing but hard lines and fiery grooves. “On second thought,” he says, taking a step back without tearing his gaze from mine, “I think I’ll join you.”

My insides coil tight, but I refuse to show any emotion other than sheer contempt. “Great. You can keep an eye on the drinks, make sure I don’t get roofied.” I shoulder past him, heels clicking loudly on the asphalt. “Last thing I want is to be taken advantage of.”

I hear him growl like a fucking animal behind me, and I’m all kinds of satisfied by the knife I just lodged in his chest.

Caelian waves Nicoli over to the limousine. “Don’t worry. I’ll sit in the middle of you two and prevent pre-party carnage.”

Nicoli stomps in the direction of his car. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh, come on. This limousine can fit half of Japan in the back seat.”

Nicoli ignores him and slides into his sleek, black Maserati.

Relief drapes over me. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the proximity of sitting in the same car as him.

Nicoli starts his engine, pumping the gas and revving it hard before he speeds off, his tires kicking up gravel.

I’m trying to gather my resolve that Nicoli just shattered, forcing ice through my veins and steel up my spine. As I walk to the limousine, I force myself to pretend tonight will be a good night. But I can’t shake the ominous feeling in my gut that’s saying everything is about to change.

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