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)
Larkin grumbled something that sounded a lot like, “What improved his mood was throwing things, but who is asking me?”
Salvatore acted as if he hadn’t heard the man while his gaze locked in on Nico and didn’t waver. “Did it not factor into your choices at all that, oh, I don’t know, I might have had something to do this morning?”
Nico gave him a look. “Did you?”
Sal said nothing.
It didn’t matter. He already knew the answer. No.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t be doing this. Nico would still be down at the guesthouse safely tucked within the four walls of a high stone fence that he had no problem climbing what with all the trees and vinery around.
Fucking idiots.
“You know,” Nico said as his running shoes carried him closer to the seating arrangement in the middle of the room, “I could already be gone if I wanted.”
Last night proved as much.
Salvatore leaned back in his chair and steepled the tips of his fingers together. “I suppose. Why not go, then?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I can actually do what I’m told.”
Larkin scoffed at that comment.
Nico just rolled his eyes.
“And what Giorgio says, goes...right?” Nico added about his father. “That’s how it works. He calls the shots.”
The mere mention of the boss had Salvatore glancing Larkin’s way. “Take a walk, would you? I’ll call you back when I’m ready.”
“Sure thing, boss man.” On his way past Nico, Larkin stared him down. “Behave.”
“I also know how to do that. I just don’t care to do it for you.”
“Actually, you will do it for him,” Salvatore said, his tone becoming firm as the office door closed. “You will behave for him, and anyone else I deem appropriate, the same way you did in this office with me so far today.”
Nico cocked an eyebrow higher than the other. “With sarcasm and thinly veiled contempt?”
“With respect. I’m not saying it has to be perfect, Nico. You don’t have to be perfect here, all right?”
Good thing. He didn’t know where to begin for that.
“Trust me,” Sal stressed, shaking his head, “I get that literally no one would be happy to walk off an airplane just to immediately have their belongings and rights taken from them, told where they could and could not go, and expected to follow along without argument or discussion. I do get it, Nico.”
Salvatore then waved at the white chair beside Nico. “Are you going to sit?”
“If you’ll let me.”
“I asked for you to be here. You can sit.”
Actually, Nico didn’t just sit, as the other man suggested. In someone else’s private space, he always waited for the explicit invitation. It meant showing respect that others didn’t often consider. An invitation to sit comfortably in a place that meant something to them, hit different for Nico.
He still wavered in sitting until Salvatore murmured, “Pick a chair, son, it isn’t hard.”
Nico sat.
“Now, between you and me, and I do mean just you and me,” the other man said, folding his arms across his chest, “let’s get a few things straight.”
Nico was still trying to get beyond the flippant son comment. “Like what?”
“Like who is calling the fucking shots from here on out, for one. I know it probably wasn’t obvious to you yesterday evening when you found me waiting for you, and we didn’t have a lot of time to clear shit up, so I’ll take the time to shine it like crystal for you this morning.”
“Uh—”
“Me,” Sal interjected fast. “I’m the shot-caller here. Not your father. Not Larkin. And definitely not you. It’s me. What does that mean to you?”
Nico chewed over his thoughts, considering both what he should say, and what he wanted to. They were often not the same things. “I thought my father said—”
Sal put a hand up, silencing Nico instantly. “You are mine to do with what I see fit. Officially, you are my problem, even if I don’t know the specifics around why you ended up here quite yet.”
Nico’s brow lifted high at that comment. Sal didn’t miss it.
“What?”
“He didn’t tell you about Miami?” Nico questioned.
Salvatore’s cheek twitched. “To be fair, he threw this on me yesterday morning with zero notice, and I really just wanted to leave.”
Standard Giorgio behavior.
A snort fell from Nico. “Oh, I get that. Believe me.”
“Do you care to tell me about Miami? Do I need to know something?”
“I was told I couldn’t talk about it,” Nico replied, shrugging. “It’s a matter of national security. Those were the exact words used, for the record.”
Sal blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, you should probably just talk to Giorgio if you need to know.”
The man across the room massaged his right temple with two fingers in the shape of a gun as he took in the information. “Unreal. Okay, moving on. When I feel the need to report back to Giorgio on your comings and goings, then I will. Otherwise, what does that mean between us, Nico?”