Page 71 of Nico

“Hey there stranger,” he greeted me with a smile, his face sporting the black eye that Nico gave him. It was enough to feed the guilt I felt. I rubbed my temple for a second, meeting his brown eyes.

He was a good guy, one of the best. He always has been. Even when girls chased him, he only wanted one.

After his father’s accident, his mother tried to run his company. After three years of watching her struggle, he quit college and helped with the company. And now, Nico Morrelli, my husband, was dismantling it brick by brick.

Maybe I could help with that.

“Hey,” I bumped my shoulder against him. Just like we used to do when we were kids.

“So you and Nico Morrelli, huh?” He watched for any hints of distress. There were plenty, but I kept them hidden. “How did that happen?” I shrugged my shoulders and he narrowed his eyes on me. “I know this look. When you shrug, pout your lips - it’s your stubborn look.”

I barked out a laugh. “I don’t have a stubborn look.”

He rolled his eyes and grinned at that. “Oh, yeah you do.”

I shoved him playfully. “Do. Not.”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Sure.”

“Does it have anything to do with the bag?” This time I reacted, and it didn’t escape him. “Jesus Christ, Bianca.”

“Hush,” I warned him, glancing around. Nico stared daggers at us and I flinched. Nico’s eyes raked over my best friend and I as if evaluating whether he should beat John again. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was stone cold, not an ounce of friendliness in them. And it was all directed at John.

“Fuck, tell me he won’t go all nuts again,” John muttered. I sensed more than saw John stiffen next to me.

Even though Nico was straight across on the opposite side of the yard, the air tensed and it felt harder to breathe, despite the fresh breeze. He stood with Cassio, Luca, and Luciano at the edge of the yard, closer to the driveway, as if he was waiting for someone to arrive. His father stood a few feet away from him, talking to one of Morrelli’s bodyguards. Nico’s eyes darted to his father every so often but kept coming back to me.

I was happy that his father kept away from the house and me. He was a despicable old man.

“It will be okay,” I told him, hoping it was true. “Don’t say anything about the bag. I don’t want anyone knowing you knew about it.”

John’s eyes came to me. “William and I fucked up, not you.”

“It’s not about the fuck-up,” I spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t think about it.”

He stiffened and the hurt in John’s eyes hit me square in the chest.

“Do you trust me so little?” His question took me by surprise.

When I got pregnant, I panicked about telling William. John picked up on the signals without me telling him and assured me it’d be okay. When I found out about my husband’s infidelity, John immediately knew something was wrong and was there for me. The only thing he never learned was the revelation about my biological father. He attributed my shock and sadness to losing my father, which was true to a certain point.

But over the last sixteen months, I shut him out. I kept the near loss of my home to myself, worries about my mother under the mafia, or paying for the debt when those two took the bag of money. He had enough of his own worries and didn’t need mine. But unintentionally, I have hurt him.

John’s attention on me, and a hurt in his eyes, clearly told me that whatever I said next could break our friendship forever.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier, I’m sorry for not calling, and I’m really sorry for keeping my distance over the last year. It sounds cliché but it was me not you.”

He still stood stiffly, my heart thundered with the worry that I have forever damaged our friendship.

“I want to be there for you,” he grumbled. “You are always there for me.”

“I wasn’t there with you over the last year while your company was being dismantled.” My voice was full of regret. The fact that we both knew it was now my new husband that did it, probably made it worse.

“But you worried about me. You are too good, Bee,” he said, shaking his head. “You try to fix everything for everyone but yourself. I just hope this time you didn’t bite off more than you can chew.”

We both knew he was talking about Nico.