Page 27

CHAPTER NINETEEN

NICO AND ROCCO

N ico entered Rocco’s suite at the hotel with Sofia and Beatrice and placed the key card on the entryway table.

After the podium celebration, Rocco and Dario had had to run off to do a number of interviews.

His nieces had practically tackled Nico and begged their mother, Rocco’s sister, Isabella, to let them stay with Nico while she went to go meet some friends.

Nico told her she’d be happy to do it, and Isabella agreed.

So, Nico and the girls had gone for gelato and walked through the park before returning to the hotel.

Nico glanced at her watch. Isabella would be picking them up in about an hour.

“I’m glad you’re still friends with us,” Sofia said once the door shut behind them.

“Of course!” Nico said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Beatrice said. “Uncle Rocco did call you a cockroach.”

“Yeah, but that was a while ago,” Sofia insisted.

“Yeah,” Beatrice agreed. “He wanted to explain the other night, but you were gone after he got dressed.”

Smiling, Nico nodded. After he’d fled, she’d done the same. She didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were. Since then, he’d tried to take her aside a couple times over the weekend, telling her he wanted to explain, but they were always interrupted by Casey or one of the crew.

“What do you want to do?” Nico asked as they pulled her into the living room.

Nico picked up a collection of Grimms’ fairy tales from the coffee table and sat on the sofa. Some of the book’s pages looked as though they’d been put through a shredder. “What happened to this?”

The girls sat on either side of her.

“Dog,” Sofia said.

“Yeah, Uncle Rocco’s supposed to get him a scratching post, but he always forgets.”

A scratching post for a dog?

“Is he your pet?”

“Uncle Rocco’s.”

“Maybe he’s bored,” Nico said. “Maybe he should take him for a walk or to a park so he can run around.”

“You mean on a leash?” Beatrice asked.

“Sure,” Nico said. “Why not?”

The girls looked at each other, grinning. “Dog on a leash!” they exclaimed. And they both fell backward, roaring with laughter.

Nico furrowed her brow. Must be some kind of inside joke.

“Uncle Rocco was reading it to us last night,” Sofia said, indicating the book of fairy tales when they finally stopped laughing.

Beatrice sighed. “He didn’t realize there were pages missing. He started to read us one of the stories, but then couldn’t finish. He got so mad.”

This brought on another fit of laughter.

Nico chuckled. “What story was he reading you?”

“It was about a girl named Snow White,” Beatrice said, “and her evil mother, who’s a queen.”

“Not her mother,” Sofia corrected her sister, “stepmother.”

Beatrice looked up at Nico. “If her stepmother is a queen, that would make her a princess, right?”

“That’s right. Princess Snow White.”

The girls made a face and then said in unison, “Lame name.”

Nico nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Do you know the story?” Sofia asked.

“I do.”

“Can you finish it?” Beatrice asked.

“I could. Or I could tell you a different version. One you wouldn’t find in this book.”

Their eyes opened wide.

“Yes! Do!” they cried, gleefully.

“But wait!” Sofia said as she jumped up from the sofa. “We need chocolate.”

“Most definitely,” said Beatrice, running after her.

“But we just had gelato,” Nico cried.

Rocco approached the door to his suite. He was happy—really, truly, happy.

Tonight, when they all met up to celebrate, he’d find a moment to pull Nico aside. He wanted to explain that cockroach business. He really wanted to do more than explain. He wanted to apologize.

But over the last couple of days, he’d never been able to get a moment alone with her. Someone was always around. When they were at the track, there were team meetings, practice sessions, and qualifying. Off the track, there was his family, who lived only a couple hours from Monza.

He entered the code, heard the click, and opened the door. He paused when he heard a voice. It was a woman’s voice, but not Isabella’s.

“The stepmother wasn’t evil,” said the voice. “She was just smart, tough, and a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. And like other women of her ilk, she was both misunderstood and maligned.”

He shut the door softly behind him, crept down the hallway, and peered around the corner.

“What does ilk mean?” Beatrice asked.

“And maligned ?” Sofia added.

“Ilk means type. So, women who were like her.”

“Smart, tough, and not afraid to speak their mind?” Sofia ventured.

“Exactly. And to malign someone means to put them down, make them look bad.”

Beatrice nodded. “Like Uncle Rocco calling you a cockroach.”

He cringed.

“Well, I don’t think he called me that. Not exactly.”

“He said you were encroaching,” Sofia said. “He didn’t want you on the team.”

Beatrice nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well …”

“It was wrong of Uncle Rocco.” Sofia said.

“Yeah,” Beatrice agreed. “And not nice.”

Sofia lifted her chin. “You can drive just as good as him.”

Beatrice nodded. “Most definitely.”

“Well, I’m good. But not that good.”

This brought a smile to Rocco’s lips.

She’s honest.

“Yet,” Nico added.

He sighed.

And cocky.

“Let’s see. Now, where were we?”

“The queen, Snow White’s stepmother, was misunderstood,” said Sofia.

“And maligned,” added Beatrice.

“Right. She worried about her stepdaughter and figured it was her responsibility to look after her and most importantly to raise her so that she could take care of herself when she grew up. Especially since she’d been given the name Snow White.

The queen would have preferred another name like Diana Prince, Marla Drake, or Harley Quinn. ”

Bouncing up and down on the sofa, the girls clapped their hands and squealed.

“Or Jessica Jones!” cried Sofia.

“Or Jessica Drew!” chimed in Beatrice.

“Exactly,” Nico sighed. “But the king preferred Snow White. And so the queen worried. She knew her stepdaughter would be an easy mark with a name like that.”

“What’s an easy mark?”

Watching Nico, Rocco had that feeling of familiarity again. There was something about those eyes.

“Someone who can be taken advantage of. Someone who’s easy to trick or fool.”

The girls looked at each other, shaking their heads. “Not good,” they said in unison.

Nico shook her head. “Most decidedly not.”

Beatrice beamed.

“The queen knew she needed to teach Snow White some important life lessons,” Nico continued, “so that when the girl finally went out into the world as an adult, she would be able to take care of herself and not have to depend on anyone else. So, one day, the queen disguised herself as a witch, in order to teach Snow White a lesson—never take apples from strangers.”

“We know that one,” Beatrice said. “Our parents taught us never to take anything from strangers.”

Nico smiled, nodding. “That’s good. You see, neither of you are an easy mark.”

Rocco blinked. Beatrice had spotted him. He put his finger to his lips.

“Uncle Rocco!” she shouted.

Both girls leapt from the sofa and came running toward him.

“Nico’s been telling us a story,” Beatrice said as she hugged his legs.

He cast her a sidelong glance.

“So I hear.”

“It’s the story you were telling us last night,” Sofia said.

He grinned as he peered at Nico. “It sounds a little different than what I remember.”

Nico lifted her chin. “Yes, well when you were their age, the princess was always in need of a prince to save her.”

He was still grinning. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. “And that’s no longer the case, is it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

He looked down at his nieces. “Your mom will be here soon. Go wash your hands, and I’ll order something for dinner.”

They took off, and there was a moment of silence.

He sighed. “So, princes have gone out of fashion.”

“I don’t know about that. But the world finally figured out that princesses can do things for themselves. Even things that were once reserved only for princes.”

“And those backward princes, who would call such princesses cockroaches when they do things once reserved only for princes, need to realize that or be banished from the kingdom.”

She grinned. “Something like that.”

“Which I never did, by the way. I never called you a cockroach. My nieces heard me use that word encroach , and I was angry when I said it.”

“Is this your version of an apology?”

He swallowed. “It is.”

She nodded. “It sucks, but I accept it.”

He laughed but stopped when he realized she was avoiding looking him in the eye. If she wasn’t looking at the floor, she was looking somewhere else.

Was it the way he was looking at her? Did it make her uncomfortable?

He began thinking of those photos—the ones on social media and those in the magazine—and thinking of what Dario and Celeste had said.

Is the way I’m looking at her—intense? Too—intense?

“The backward prince should be glad to hear about this change,” Nico said.

“For Sofia’s and Beatrice’s sakes. I’m sure he wouldn’t want them to have to rely on a prince to save them.

And he certainly would never tell them they couldn’t do something just because most of the people doing it were men. ”

She’s got me there .

He nodded. “Most definitely.”

She blinked, laughed, and finally met his gaze.

The girls came running.

“Pizza!” they shouted. “We want pizza!”

Rocco frowned. “Again? Your mother will be angry with me if I get you pizza again.”

“Hey, can Nico have pizza with us?” Sofia asked.

Beatrice jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Yeah!”

“No, she’s going out to dinner with me.”

They stared at Nico and then began to push Rocco with huge smiles.

“You’re going on a date?” Beatrice asked.

Sofia ran up to Nico. “What are you going to wear?”

“No, no,” she said, the color in her cheeks deepening. “It’s not—”

Rocco jumped in. “A date. It’s not a date,” he stammered. “We’re all going. Dario, Celeste, everyone.”

Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough to stop the shenanigans of the two evil pixies who posed as his nieces.

“Will you wear a dress?” Sofia asked, hiking up one shoulder.

“We’ve never seen you in a dress,” Beatrice said. “Why don’t you wear dresses?”

“I, I wear dresses. Sometimes.”

Rocco could see they’d made her uncomfortable and figured he’d help her out. “You haven’t seen her wear a dress because she’s a member of the team. Do you see me wearing one?”

The girls giggled.

“Exactly, there you go.”

But when he glanced at Nico, he couldn’t tell if he’d made matters better or worse.

He looked down at his nieces. “There are some menus in the kitchen. Go take a look. You can have anything but pizza.”

They ran over to hug Nico. “Thanks for the gelato and the story.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Once they were gone, Rocco frowned. “Gelato?” He glanced at the table, seeing the empty box of chocolate. “And chocolate.” He paused. “Before dinner.”

“Sorry. I’m not good with children. I don’t really know—what—I’m supposed to do.”

“No younger siblings or nieces or nephews to babysit?”

“Uh, no.”

She looked around the room.

“Looking for something?”

“My purse.”

She seemed in a hurry to leave.

Spotting her bag on a chair in the corner, he walked over and picked it up. “Here it is.” He extended his hand, the purse dangling from it. “No babysitting gigs as a teenager to make some quick cash?”

She shook her head, reached for the bag, grabbing the strap. She pulled to take it from him, but he didn’t let go.

“I would have thought you had. I mean, you’re so good with Beatrice and Sofia. They really like you.”

“They’re sweet girls.”

He laughed. “No, they’re not. They’re Tasmanian devils. They don’t like everybody, and when they don’t like a person, they’re not afraid to show it. But—they like you.”

He tried to read the expression on her face. He felt like he’d touched a nerve. Like he was now the one who might be considered a cockroach, venturing into territory where he had no business going.

“My purse?”

“Sorry,” he said, letting go. He didn’t realize he was still holding on to it.

Just then her phone rang. She looked down at her purse.

“Aren’t you—going to get that?’

She swung the purse over her shoulder. “If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. I should be going.”

Whoever it was, she didn’t want to talk to them with him around.

When she walked by him, he grabbed her arm. He let go when he saw her bristle.

“You are coming tonight?”

She wouldn’t look at him. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Right.”

He followed her to the door, taking the last couple of steps swiftly to bypass her and open it.

“By the way,” he said, “you were really good today. On the track, I mean.”

She was halfway through the doorway when he’d said it.

She paused. He had only the side of her face to go by, but he saw the corner of her lip curl.

She was smiling. But then he caught the expression in her eye.

It almost looked as though she weren’t happy.

But that didn’t make sense. Maybe it had nothing to do with the racing. Maybe those questions about family?

“You were really good too,” she said before turning her back to him and hurrying down the hallway.