Page 65 of Nicoli

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to see what size screwdriver I need to take this fucking door down.”

“Nicoli!”

“I’m serious, Mira.” Intense eyes gleam into mine as he drops the box and slams his palm against the door. “It’s been a week. We’re not living in two separate bedrooms. We won’t bethatcouple.”

“We aren’t even a fucking couple.”

“I have a document that says otherwise.”

“An illegal document, you mean?”

His lips pull down at the edges. “It has a priest’s signature on it.”

“The priest you paid?”

“He’s still a man of God. Speaking of, I’m still waiting for a name.”

“What name?”

He slants his head to the side, staring straight at me as if I just asked the world’s dumbest question.

And then I remember. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead.”

“I’ll give you his name if you can tell me the name of every girl you’ve slept with.”

“That’s easy. None.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true. I haven’t slept with anyone. I usually fuck them and leave. There’s no sleeping involved.”

I blink. “You’re an asshole.”

“Naaaaaame.” His lips vibrate as he presses them together.

“Fine.” I cross my arms and slant my hip. “Tommaso.”

“Tommaso?” He recoils. “What kind of pussy name is that?”

“The kind with a real big, thick, loooong—”

“Finish that sentence, and I swear to God—”

“Dick.”

Abruptly, he grabs my waist, spins me around so fast I’m not sure which way is up, and slams the door shut, pinning me against it. Heat emanates from him, the size of his body creating an invisible wall as he towers over me, caging me with his muscular arms. “You still need to learn not to fuck with me.”

“And you need to accept that I’m not just going to roll over and play the part of a submissive wife.”

“That’s too bad.” He strokes his finger along my jaw. “You would look exquisite on your knees.” A sultry tenor in his voice wakes my insides with a flutter. “And where, exactly, is our friend Tommaso from?” he continues.

“I told you he’s not from around here.”

“Then where?”

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