Vendetta (Blood for Blood #1)(58)

“Of course not.” He seemed affronted by the implication, and I was glad of that. If he didn’t answer to “the boss,” then he must not be involved in the things his father was accused of.

“What does it mean,” I asked, “for you and your brothers to be part of the Mafia?”

Nic hesitated, and I could see he was trying to formulate his answer. “Infamy.”

“And notoriety?” I remembered the article and shivered.

“Yes,” he said plainly, like it didn’t bother him the way it would bother me. “From birth we are stamped with our family’s reputation, named after bosses from past generations, and raised with a strong sense of loyalty and honor …” He trailed off.

“Do you hurt people?”

He ran his hand through his hair until it hung loosely around his eyes, shielding them. “It’s not like that.”

“What is it like?”

Nic took both my hands in his. “Sophie, there’s a lot I can’t say to you. I’ve taken a serious vow, and to break it would mean violating a code of silence upheld by every member of my family. But if you can trust nothing else, trust this: I am a good person, with good morals. My brothers and I are loyal, to the death. We have been raised with an understanding of right and wrong. We protect and serve our mother so that she may be happy every day of her life, we mourn the death of our father, and we attend church every Sunday to pray for his soul. I want to protect those I love and those who cannot protect themselves. But most of all, I want to make the world a better place by being in it.”

I felt a surge of relief. I didn’t know what I had been expecting him to say, but this was so much better.

“You were born into your way of life,” I said, almost as if I were speaking to myself, “but that doesn’t mean you are part of it.” Nic inhaled like he was about to say something, but then he stopped himself. “We are both living in the shadows of our fathers,” I said, realizing for the first time that it was true.

“I would never hurt you,” he said quietly.

“I know.” I laced my fingers through his. I had seen those hands hurt Alex, I had seen purple bruises along the knuckles, but I had to believe it was different with me. I studied our fingers, his olive skin against the paleness of mine, his grip sure and strong. It felt different. It felt right.

For a while, neither of us said anything. A lot of bandages had been ripped off our psychic wounds and we were both weary with emotion.

“Do you know why I can’t be with you?” Nic said at last. “I want you to know that it’s not my choice to walk away.”

I was starting to understand that. “When Luca found out who I was it changed everything, didn’t it?”

“What’s in a name, right?” Nic’s expression turned rueful. “It’s not a good idea, our being together. Not with what’s happened. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to you.”

“Am I in danger? They warned me about that …” I thought of my uncle, and I understood his concern. A Mafia family moves up the street from the family responsible for their boss’s death. I inhaled sharply.

“Jack warned you?” The faintest undertone of animosity tinged Nic’s words.

“And my father.”

“You’re not in danger.” He tried to sound casual, but there was something new creeping into his voice now, straining it. “But we think it’s best that you’re kept far away from us and some of the more … unhinged members of our family … at least for the time being.”

Nic fell quiet again. He moved his hands to my arms and began to rub them. I hadn’t even realized I was cold until I felt the warmth in his touch.

“Should I be scared?” I asked.

“You don’t have to be scared of anything,” he said quietly.

I smiled weakly. I was scared of losing him, but I couldn’t say so. It wouldn’t do any good.

He flicked his gaze to my lips. “If I knew that night would be the last time I got to kiss you, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

My smile faltered. Why couldn’t he be someone else, anyone but a Falcone?

“I should go,” he said, like he was convincing himself and not me. But he wasn’t going, he was leaning in to me. Our fingers were entwining and he was pulling me closer, sliding his arms around my waist.

Slowly, like he was fighting the urge to do so, he nuzzled his forehead against mine. “But what if … What if, in this one moment, you’re not Sophie Gracewell and I’m not Nicoli Falcone …” He trailed off and let his lips find mine.

Desire raged through me as I pressed my lips against his. His mouth was firm against mine, hot and unyielding, and when our tongues met, I lost myself, wholly and completely, in the passion of his kiss.

All too soon, in the heat of something so intense I found it hard to pull my lips away to breathe, the distant sound of a strange hum dragged us back into our earthly bodies. Breaking away from me and panting heavily, Nic fished his buzzing phone from the pocket of his jeans.

He placed a hand over his heart and clutched at his chest. “Valentino,” he answered in a shaky voice. “I’m on my way.” He clicked off and returned his attention to me, but the softness in his eyes was gone, and I realized with a jolt that I was looking at a very different version of Nicoli Falcone.