Page 42 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

JULIAN

I don’t even know where the hell I’m going. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. I just needed out… out of that estate, out from under his stare that burns holes straight through me. Out from the chokehold of Nico Vitale.

The anger sits like fire in my chest, and I can’t smother it.

None of this was supposed to happen. My life was never meant to orbit around a man like him. I was hired to kill him for fuck’s sake. I was supposed to keep control, keep distance, keep the lines clean. But ever since I met Nico, every rule I built for myself has gone straight to hell.

My grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles whitening as the speedometer climbs. Ninety in a sixty, and still not fast enough. The tires burn, the road blurs. I almost don’t care where I end up, as long as it’s anywhere he isn’t.

But even now, even with the rage pounding in my veins, all I can think about is him.

Honestly, I’m shocked the bastard didn’t come after me. The Nico I know would’ve hunted me down by now.

But then something in my gut twists. In my rearview, a blacked-out car lurks a bit too long, a bit too close. My first thought, maybe paranoia. But nobody follows like that by accident.

I slam on the gas, adrenaline flooding my system as the world streaks past. For a few seconds, it feels good, like outrunning gravity.

Then a flash of red light hits my rearview. Sirens wail.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I jerk the wheel toward the shoulder, gravel crunching under the tires as I kill the engine.

This is bad. Really bad. Ex-cop, ex-convict, and I’m driving a car that screams mafia money. On the outside, I might look clean, but my record sure as hell isn’t. If they recognize me… if they run my name…

I grip the wheel harder, jaw locked, forcing my breathing to slow into something that won’t give me away.

One wrong move, and this day ends with me face-down on the pavement. Or worse.

The cruiser door slams and the cop strides up, walking slow like he’s already made up his mind about me. He raps on the glass twice, like a warning shot.

I roll my window down, squinting against the glare. He’s already got his hand hovering near his holster, eyes flicking from me to the car.

“Nice ride,” he says flatly, his eyes sweeping over the Maserati and then back at me. “Funny how guys like you never look like they paid for it. License and registration.”

My stomach drops. I force myself to stay calm, even as sweat prickles hot at my temples.

A license isn’t a problem. I’ve got a fake, comes with my occupation…

but registration? I don’t know where the hell Nico keeps it.

Even if I did, I can’t hand it over without putting more heat on him, on all of us.

My fingers fumble at the glovebox anyway, stalling, praying for a miracle. Empty gum pack. Insurance slips for cars I’ve never even seen. Fucking condoms, but no registration. My chest tightens, every breath shorter than the last.

“Problem?” the cop presses, leaning down, his stare cutting into me.

I manage to fish out my fake ID, though my hand trembles slightly. He snatches it, his eyes narrowing as he reads, lips curling like he already knows it’s bullshit.

“Step out of the car.”

Fuck.

I swallow hard, push the door open, and step into the light of the day. The road is quiet, the air still. His hand still rests on his holster like he’s just waiting for a reason. My heart hammers as he spins me around, slamming me against the hood.

“You’re looking real nervous for a guy who was just speeding,” he mutters, the cold metal snapping tight around my wrists.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid. My heart slams against my ribs, panic rising up like bile. This can’t happen. If I get booked, it’s not just me—it’s Nico. It’s everything.

The cop jerks me upright, his hand gripping my arm to shove me toward the cruiser. And that’s when it happens.

A sharp crack slices through the air. My whole body jolts. The officer jerks violently, his grip ripping away from my arm. Blood blooms across his chest as he collapses to the pavement.

I freeze as shock, adrenaline, and disbelief slam into me at once.

Another set of footsteps walk across the gravel. I whip my head up, and there’s Enzo, gun still smoking in his hand, his expression blank behind his sunglasses.

“Boss said not to let you get yourself killed,” he says in a low, calm voice. He crouches, grabs the keys from the officer’s pocket, and in a swift motion, unlocks the cuffs around my wrists.

My chest heaves, my wrists raw, my head spinning. I stare at the body, the blood already seeping into the ground at my feet.

Enzo straightens, tucking the gun back under his jacket. “Get back to the estate. I’ll clean this up.”

I can’t move. I can hardly breathe, for christ sake. The reality of it hits me all at once—how close I just came to losing everything, and how easily Nico’s world stains me deeper in blood.

“Get outta here, Cross,” Enzo says again, sharper this time, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

My head bobs in a jerky nod, legs carrying me back to the Maserati on autopilot.

My hands are still shaking when I grip the door handle, adrenaline pumping so hard I feel sick.

It’s not the dead cop on the pavement that’s rattling me.

It’s not even the cuffs that were biting into my wrists a moment ago.

It’s the fact that when I thought my life was over, it wasn’t me I was afraid for.

It was him.

I slide into the driver’s seat, slam my fists against the wheel, and suck in a ragged breath before turning the key. The engine roars, but my chest feels like it’s caving in. I almost exposed him. Exposed everything. One mistake, one wrong move, and the whole empire could’ve burned.

What’s he going to do when he finds out?

I’ve seen Nico angry before, gun-to-the-head, don’t-breathe-wrong kind of angry, but never the kind of anger that comes from almost destroying an empire. What if he decides I’m not worth the risk anymore?

Sure, I could find another place, hole up in some dingy apartment again. But the thought makes my stomach churn. Because as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t want to go anywhere else.

For the first time in years, I feel alive. And the fucked-up truth is… that’s because of him.

Does that mean I’m actually in love with Nico Vitale? I’ve only ever said the words when he forced them out of me, but now… now they’re starting to feel real. And that terrifies me more than when I thought he was just a monster. Because the monster, I could handle. But this…

This thing where I might actually love him?

This could destroy me.

By the time I roll up the drive, Nico’s already outside, standing on the steps like he’s been waiting for me the whole damn time.

I kill the engine, shove the door open, and step out. “I can explain—”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, catching me off guard.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, still buzzing with adrenaline. “Thanks for… sending Enzo. He saved my ass.”

His gaze sharpens. “Don’t thank me, piccolino. If you’d have stayed put like I told you, you wouldn’t have needed saving.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Jesus, you always gotta make it sound like I’m a fucking child—”

“Then stop acting like one,” he cuts in. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, but words fail me. He turns, already heading toward the door.

“Inside. Now.”

Every muscle in my body wants to resist, but my legs move anyway. The air gets heavier with every step. My pulse won’t slow, part leftover panic, part… something else entirely.

He waits until we’re past the guards, past the noise of the estate, and pushes open the door to his office. His voice is quieter now, almost intimate.

“Talk.”

“I’m… uh…” My throat feels like sandpaper. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot, okay? I was pissed at you, but mostly at myself. I thought I could outrun this shit, but turns out… I can’t.”

His gaze lowers, dragging over me until my skin burns. “And what exactly are you running from, caro mio?”

I grit my teeth, but I force myself to look him in the eye. “From you... from how I feel about you.”

He tilts his head, his eyes darkening, studying me like he’s already dissected me and found every weak point. “And how do you feel,” he asks, his voice low and lethal, “when you’re with me?”

My pulse quickens. The word leaves me before I can stop it. “Alive.”

He hardly reacts, but his mouth curves slightly like I’ve pleased him… and fuck, I want to keep pleasing him.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs.

I shudder.

“First, you spend twenty thousand on my card. Then you almost get yourself killed…” His breath brushes my ear, and I swear my knees buckle. “Nice yacht, by the way.”

My blood runs cold. Shit. I’d had that thing delivered straight to the port. How the hell did he find out?

“It was stupid,” I mutter quickly. “I’ll return it.”

“No,” he says, his grin sharpening. “Keep it. We’ll have to break it in sometime.”

Oh god. My whole body reacts. Heat, need, and want twist together into something volatile. My legs are trembling so bad, I’m not sure I’ll stay upright.

Before I can even think of a response, Nico moves. One second he’s in front of me, the next my back hits the wall with a thud, his body pressing into mine, caging me in. His hand comes up, fingers wrapping around my jaw, forcing me to hold his gaze.

“Do you know what I’d have done if you got arrested? Or if that bastard put his hands on you?”

My breath stutters. His eyes are burning into me, darker than I’ve ever seen them. “Nico…”

He cuts me off, his thumb brushing my cheek in a touch that’s almost gentle, though his grip says otherwise.

“I’d have burned this entire fucking city.

Every cop, every enemy, every man with a badge or a gun—I’d have torn them apart piece by piece until there was nothing left.

” His mouth lowers until it’s just a breath from mine.

“And then I’d have dragged you back to me.

Because no one takes you from me. Not the cops.

Not Braga. Not Silvio’s men. Not even you, piccolino. ”

My whole body is trembling now, not just from adrenaline but from the sheer weight of him against me. I can’t tell if I want to fight him or fall apart beneath him. Probably both.

I don’t even realize I’ve stopped breathing until his mouth finally crashes into mine. There’s no patience; just teeth, heat, and fury. I gasp against him, but he swallows the sound, biting down on my lower lip hard enough to make me flinch.

“Fuck,” I breathe, but my fists are already clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

He groans into me like he’s been holding this back all day, like the only thing keeping him sane was the thought of wrecking me against this wall.

His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat, and then his mouth is everywhere, spreading hot, bruising kisses and sharp nips that make me shudder and arch against him.

“Do you get it now?” he growls against my skin, his voice ragged. “Do you understand what you do to me, Julian?”

“I—” The word breaks on my tongue, lost in a sharp gasp when his hips grind against mine. “Nico—”

He cuts me off with another kiss, this one just as rough, but deeper, like he’s trying to consume every ounce of defiance left in me. And maybe he is, because by the time he pulls back, I’m panting, trembling, already half-undone.

“Go upstairs” he demands, his forehead pressed to mine. “Wait for me.”

“You’re seriously making me walk up there like this?” I hiss, my cock straining painfully against my pants.

His smirk is pure sin. He drags his hand across my length. It’s barely a touch, but just enough to make me bite down on a moan. “Consider it part of your punishment, piccolino,” he murmurs. “I’ve got work to finish. Be a good boy and wait.”

I want to argue, but my fists just curl helplessly at my sides. Heat coils in my gut as I tear myself away, stalking toward the door. My chest is heaving, every nerve on fire, and I can feel his eyes burning into me the whole way out.

The estate is quiet. Enzo’s still gone cleaning up the mess I made, and Luca and Allegra are nowhere in sight, thank god.

The guards don’t so much as glance at me as I pass, but somehow that makes it worse.

And I can’t fight this heat building up inside me because I know Nico’s still watching through the cameras, tracking every step I take, every twitch of frustration, every ounce of want I can’t smother.

And instead of calming me down, the thought of his on me only makes me more desperate.

By the time I make it upstairs, I’m seething. My body’s on fire, my cock throbbing so bad it hurts, and all I can think about is how that bastard smirked when he sent me off to wait on him like some obedient pet.

I slam the bedroom door shut and pace like a caged animal. My fists clench and unclench, nails biting into my palms. The urge to jerk off is unbearable, clawing at me with every second, but I know that’s what he wants—to come up here and find me desperate, ruined, and begging for him.

“Goddamnit,” I mutter, dragging both hands through my hair.

I throw myself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it might save me. Every camera, every shadow feels like it has eyes. He’s probably watching me right now, waiting for me to break. The thought pisses me off… and makes my dick twitch.

I shove a pillow over my face, muffling the frustrated sound that rips from my throat. My hips buck against nothing, and it’s pure torture. I swear to god, I’m going insane.

Minutes stretch on, the ache twisting sharper with every tick of the clock. My skin feels too tight, my chest heaving like I just ran ten miles. I’m trembling, torn between giving in and holding out just to spite him.

Because the truth is, no matter how long he makes me wait, I’ll still fucking want him the second he walks through that door.