Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Satisfaction had a nice ring to it.
“My aim’s a little off,” Nico lied, “lucky for you.”
“That so?”
“Mmhmm. Call me any name but my own again, and I’m gonna get so much worse for you. You don’t know how hard I can make your job, motherfucker. Last night was easy for me. Know it and act accordingly.”
If he had to be here, as per his father’s demand, then what mattered more came down to everyone else around Nico understanding exactly who the fuck he was and how he moved.
If they started shit, he’d start back. If they wanted trouble, here he was.
Larkin’s chin tipped up subtly, letting the younger man know he heard the threat loud and clear, and would likely take it seriously. As he should. Nico didn’t have the patience for empty or idle threats. If he said it, he meant it.
“You’ve got five minutes now.”
Nico rolled his eyes and threw the blanket to the side. “Choke on a dick. I’ll be down when I’m down. Make sure you tell Salvatore I told you that, too.”
•••
Nico sipped hot coffee from the mug he’d brought along while Larkin strolled ahead of him by a few paces. He didn’t rush into the study-slash-office space currently occupied by an annoyed Salvatore.
He gave the consigliere credit—the study had a good vibe. It wasn’t full of wood paneling, and it didn’t smell like cigar smoke how Giorgio’s did. Slightly off-white walls matched the shelves and desk while a massive gray rug, circular in shape, tied the middle of the space together. The same gray color coated the crown molding and the rest of the trim in the room.
He also didn’t get the feeling that he was about to get his head bashed in the second he stepped inside. Another new experience for him even if he did deserve it occasionally.
A seating area made up of a loveseat and matching white leather recliners surrounded a glass coffee table and sat in front of an unlit fireplace. A chess board waited to be played, the moves still evident and left where the players had walked away from an unfinished game. Floor-to-ceiling shelves hugged every nook and cranny, stuffed full of books and too many other things to properly acknowledge, except for the massive windows behind the desk.
Nico didn’t want someone to think he had a reason for staring too much or too long at the things on the shelves. Particularly, the pictures of Salvatore and his daughter that took up a lot of residence on the shelves at eye-level. As if those were the items on the shelves which the owner of the space wanted seen the most.
Something pinched inside his chest at the framed memories. Not because the two looked contented, or had clearly done a lot of traveling together, which meant time well spent, and probably happily.
So, why the pain?
Because that sort of thing existed at all. A bond between a father and child that made them smile and look like they meant it. A particular glint, like joy, lit up Frankie’s face in the pictures when she gazed upon her father. He didn’t look at his daughter with annoyance or barely concealed hatred. Just with love. It was real.
Nico couldn’t relate.
The windows behind the desk overlooked the front of the property. With a simple turn of his chair, Salvatore could see from his front door to the gate at the end of a long driveway. It was the only thing about the space that felt...expected.
Nico pretended to admire the shelves closest to his spot near the door as a quiet word passed between Larkin and Sal. A vinyl records collection made up an entire section of wall. The record player to enjoy said collection sat on a table beside the corner of the desk where Sat rested in a moderately sized leather office chair which was proportionate to the size of the room.
Men in power had a bad habit of thinking the bigger, the better. Salvatore seemed to balance it. Speaking of him...
“You’re awfully quiet over there for someone who, as I hear it, had plenty to say this morning,” Salvatore said to draw Nico’s attention away from the shelves nearest the door.
He made a sad face at Larkin who stood with his arms crossed beside the desk. “Aww, did someone tattle on me?”
Larkin inhaled deeply. “You said, and very clearly—”
“I know what the fuck I said,” Nico interjected. “And I meant it.”
Salvatore sighed noisily. “I asked for you to be here at eight this morning. It’s nearly nine.”
“Given the state of my current circumstances,” Nico replied, half smiling the whole time, “I don’t think an hour is gonna hurt any of us. Other than improving my mood for this chat you want to have.”
“Did it improve your mood?”
“Marginally.”
Not even drugs and sex did that for Nico anymore, and those used to be a given to get him feeling a good kind of way. Shit disturbing was really the last thing he had to enjoy at this point although, that usually found him in trouble, like now.