Nicoli: A Forbidden Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 4)
Nicoli: Chapter 16

That night continues to burn in my mind. It’s on constant repeat, never fading. The heat of her desire still lingers and intensifies every time I think about it.

When I close my eyes, I see her. Her beautiful face, blood-red lips that tasted better than I ever could have imagined, and her naked body with downright killer curves. My fucking poison. In the memories, she’s right there, ripe for the taking. All I have to do is reach out. My cock is buried in someone else’s pussy, yet all I can think about is that I want it to be her. I want her on her goddamn back, her thighs spread and cunt weeping for me, moaning and arching her back as I pump into her. I want it to be her that begs for more of me, and I would willingly oblige by giving her everything I have.

One wouldn’t say it was one of the worst fucking nights of my life, not when I relished the sight of her moving her hips, rocking her body as another woman eats her pussy. Mira was painfully beautiful and radiant in her desire. I’ve jerked off numerous times imagining my palm was her, but I could never have conjured up a fantasy as exquisitely dirty and crazy as the one that played out the other night.

It wasn’t part of the plan. Mira was supposed to walk in and see me fuck Paula, cry and run away, and never speak to me again. That’s what needed to happen, but I underestimated my little hummingbird. She saw right through me and called my bluff; she showed me a side of her I never knew existed. The way she touched herself and fucked Paula’s mouth, Mira was seduction and ecstasy rolled into the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen—and that says a lot since I spend most nights at Myth.

I was entranced. Beguiled by her. My eyes followed her every move, mesmerized by how she moved, confidence oozing from her pores. I drank her in, savoring every moan that left her lips, hating that it was Paula’s tongue getting her off and not mine. I wanted to be the one who tasted her, lapped her up and made her wild with cries of pleasure as she rode my face, her arousal gushing past my lips. Just the thought is enough to drive me crazy. Imagine how fucked I’d be if I did what I wanted to do—yank her off Paula’s face, bend her over, and slide so deep inside her pussy she’d see goddamn stars. But I didn’t. Instead, I watched her with awe and admiration while the reality of it all crushed me. I knew that every second I allowed it to continue, our silent bond was breaking, crumbling, fucking rupturing, but I couldn’t stop. The cold bastard in me was too selfish. I knew it would be the closest I’d ever get to her, and I took it. I used every moment to fill the longing I’ve been living with for so long. Mira’s presence consumed my entire being, and nothing else mattered at that moment. Only the two of us existed. Sure, my cock was still inside Paula’s greedy body, but it could have been anyone as far as I was concerned. She became invisible to me. All she succeeded in doing was fading into the background while I watched Mira transcend from innocence to sensuality right before my fucking eyes.

It took everything in me not to unleash my most torrid desires on Mira’s body, which seemed so damn willing. Her green eyes were swimming with lust—hungry and consumed. But there was something else too. Something she tried to hide, but to me, it was clear as fucking day. It was pain. Hurt. Betrayal. It sliced into my soul every time she let out a breath. That was the only thing stopping me from taking her, forgetting the promise I made and making her mine in every way known to man.

But the real doozy, the most profound mind-fuck, was when I decided to go after her because I wanted to make it right. I wanted to kiss away every trace of heartache I caused her. My goddamn soul screamed for me to take her in my arms and never let go. I can’t explain it. It’s like something switched inside me, and I went from wanting her to hate me to needing her to love me in zero fucking seconds. It was a complete one-eighty shift I had no control over, as if it all clicked into place, and I was ready to throw all my inhibitions to the wind so I could just love her. Just fucking love her without caring what the repercussions might be because all that mattered was showing her that my heart had always been hers. I was ready to take the leap, to try to make shit right. But when I found her in the shower swathed in a cloud of sorrow, her body shaking and her agonized sobs painting the walls with her pain, the universe reminded me why I did the most fucked-up thing a man could ever do to a woman.

Excruciating guilt crashed over me and sobered me from the haze of wishful thinking. My mind flooded with regret and shame for what I had done to her. It was then I realized my apology would never be enough because how can you expect someone to love you if all you know how to do is hurt them?

So, I let her go, even after her declaration of love pulverized me…I let her go. And now here I am, days later and still fucking miserable.

Alexius walks into the Dark Sovereign room, fixing me with a hard stare, then looks at the bottle of bourbon in my hands. He raises an eyebrow. “She still not speaking to you?”

I take a swig straight from the bottle. “Nope.”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck it is you did?”

“Nope.”

“Is the bourbon helping?”

I smack my tongue, staring at the liquid that makes it all suck less, yet provides zero comfort. “Nope.”

“Then why are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?”

I frown at the bottle as if it’s a living thing taking part in this useless conversation. “The scale of how I fucked up.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

I scoff. “I tipped the scales, brother. I tipped the motherfucking scales.”

Alexius snatches the bottle from me and chugs a mouthful, grimacing as he passes it back to me. “It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

I meet his gaze with a flat stare. “I’m well aware.”

“And we’re all going out.”

“After Dark?”

Alexius shrugs, and I already know Leandra got his balls in a twist. She probably sucked his dick until he caved and gave permission.

“If you’re thinking Leandra got my balls in a twist and sucked my dick until I caved and gave permission…you’re wrong.”

I lift a brow.

“She sucked my dick and then proceeded to fuck my brains out. Only then did I cave.”

“Well,” I bring the bottle to my lips, “if you put it that way, then I guess it makes sense that you’re sending both her and Mira into the lion’s den. A good fucking is always worth putting the ones you love in danger.”

“Maximo will have eyes and ears everywhere. The fucking president can go to that club tomorrow night, and he’d be safer than in his oval office. So don’t start your shit with me,” Alexius warns, taking his seat at the polished table, his chair embroidered with the gold and silver crest. What a fucking joke—gold and silver. We’re not gold. We’re not silver. We’re pitch fucking black. The whole lot of us. We think we protect the people we love when all we do is fuck shit up. It’s a family curse that stems from that damn creepy-as-hell mausoleum. Everything started there on the night that changed everything.

I shift in my seat, dragging my palm down my loosened tie. “I’m not starting anything. Just saying it the way I see it.”

“Are you going to make it right?”

I look up from the half-empty bottle of bourbon in my hand, unamused by his subject change. “Did you miss the memo? She hates me now. There’s nothing to make right.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I didn’t want any of this,” I snap.

“Then why are you so hellbent on pushing her away?”

“Because it’s fucking necessary.” I swallow another mouthful of bourbon that burns as it travels down my insides. “But turns out that a bullet to the brain would suck less than this.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re hiding?”

I press my lips in a thin line, a silent answer that he picks up on immediately.

Alexius leans back in his seat. “Let’s play the game we used to play when we were kids. I guess, and if I guess correctly, you have to tell me.”

I snort. “You’ll never be able to guess this one, brother. I guarantee it.”

“I can guess that it has to do with Mirabella’s parents’ murder. About the Ferrero family being responsible.”

“Oh, dear brother.” I scoff. “You’re barely scratching the surface.”

“I also know that you’re hiding something that has to do with Marco.”

I stiffen. “What makes you say that?”

“I was going through Dad’s things after he died. I found a file on Marco, and what I found particularly interesting was his date of death.”

Chills wrack up my spine, heat tingling the back of my neck.

“Do you know why Dad would have Marco’s date of death almost ten years after the night of the Tirelli massacre?”

There’s a second that my demeanor falters, and Alexius immediately picks up on it. My brother can smell my bullshit a mile away. God, I hate him. I don’t really. But I do.

I swirl the bottle between my fingers, putting on the most ironclad poker face known to man. “Why, if you found this file after Dad died, are you only asking me about it now?”

He crosses his legs, leaning back, acting like a cool and confident dick. “One of the most important things Dad taught me was patience.”

“And one of the most important things he taught me was how to kick my twin brother in the balls.”

“Sarcasm has always been your defense mechanism.”

“And being a dickhead, yours.”

“I know you’re protecting her,” he says evenly. “And I know that sooner or later you’re going to have to tell me exactly what it is that you’re protecting her from.”

“I should have protected her from me. But I couldn’t even do that.”

Maximo clears his throat, standing by the entrance and locking eyes with Alexius. “Leandra is looking for you. She’s out on the patio.”

In my head, I’m kissing Maximo’s ass right now and cuddling him under a willow tree for saving me from what has the potential of being a very unpleasant conversation. I smirk at my brother. “You’ve been summoned.”

He simply glowers at me, standing. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“Oh, but it is.” I pour two gulps down my throat, watching my brother walk out. But he pauses when he reaches the door, giving Maximo and me a knowing look—his silent way of saying he knows we’re two pricks with a secret.

When he’s gone, I open my mouth and feel the air rush back in. My chest is hollow, a big fucking black hole that swallows my goddamn life. I sink back in my seat. “He’s going to keep pushing until he squeezes every last drop of the truth out of me.”

Maximo strolls over and places his hands on the back of his chair, his leather jacket crinkling around the width of his arms. A cigarette dangles between his lips, the smoke suffocating the scent of honeyed beeswax that always lingers in this room.

“Maybe we should tell him.”

I almost choke on my own spit. “Excuse me? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

He takes the last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it in the crystal ashtray shaped like a dollar sign. “Maybe it’s time, Nicoli.”

My heart halts instantly and then starts beating again, but too fast. “No fucking way. No. We agreed that Mira can never know the truth.”

“I’m not saying she needs to know everything, just the part that matters.”

“And what part is that, huh? Which part do you think matters the most? The part about your older brother being responsible for your parents’ deaths? Or—”

“Yes!” he snaps. “That part. I hate that she mourns him, too, when she thinks about what we lost. He doesn’t deserve her grief.”

“It’s too risky, Maximo. If we tell her the truth about Marco, she could figure out all the rest. And that can’t happen.”

“Who’s to say knowing the truth about him will let her remember everything else?”

“Stop! We agreed that we would keep it between us. You and me and my father.”

“And I’ve always trusted your father to know what’s best for everyone,” he says, his brow creased with hard lines. “Which is why I agreed to keep this secret from everyone else. And I never questioned him. Not once. But a lot has changed since your father died, Nicoli. And that makes me wonder if he’d feel the same if he was still here.” He gives me a knowing look. “I don’t think he would if he knew how you felt about my sister. What you’re sacrificing for her.”

“What I’m sacrificing doesn’t matter. What I feel doesn’t matter. All that matters is protecting her from the truth.” I nail him with a pointed glare. “All of it.”

“Alexius won’t tell her.”

“Leandra has my brother’s balls wrapped around her goddamn pinky, and all it’ll take is a sixty-nine, a swallow, and a fucking hand job in the church pew for him to sing like a motherfucking bird. And if she knows, so will Mira.”

Maximo sighs and rolls his shoulders as if they weigh too much. “Goddammit,” he mutters under his breath. “Fuck you, Marco.” Venom laces his words. “Every time she mentions his name, my fucking skin crawls. I swear to God, there will come a day that I lose my shit and let everything slip.”

I fly out of my chair, knocking it over in the process, and slamming my fists on the table. “She will never know the truth, Maximo. Not about Marco. Not about the mausoleum. And sure as fuck not about what happened that night. Is that understood?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Is. That. Understood?” My hands are balled into fists, and I squeeze them tight, my knuckles burning white.

“What if she wakes up one morning and remembers everything?”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know.”

“She’ll never forgive us, Nicoli. If she puts it all together and replaces out we kept this form her, she will never forgive us.”

“I’m doing everything I can to keep her from ever putting it together, and that includes me staying the fuck away from her so I don’t somehow trigger her memory. She’s been through enough shit to last her two lifetimes. The last thing she needs is more emotional damage. More fucking hurt.”

“You fucking hypocrite.” His chest rises as he breathes deeply through his nose, bunching up his lips like he tastes something vile. “You want to protect her from more pain, yet you go and break her fucking heart.”

“It’s different.”

“No, it’s not. There’s always a risk that the truth will come out, that she’ll wake up one morning and remember. At least if you’d stop being an asshole and admit you love her, she would have someone to help her deal with it should that ever happen. Now…now she has no one.”

“I will only hurt her, Maximo.”

“You already hurt her, you fucking asshole. You already hurt her.” Maximo’s words hang heavily in the air between us like a tightrope. His anger is palpable and justified; he knows what I did to Mira and how I hurt her. He’s the only one who knows about my setup with Paula. He kept nagging and pushing me for answers after Mira seemed to have flipped a switch overnight, going from being the sun and life in this house, to a closed-off, hardened version of herself. So, I finally spat out the truth. But my confession didn’t include the part where his sister was riding Paula’s mouth. I spared him that detail.

“You’re right,” I concede while clenching my jaw, looking him square in the eye, not shying away from the shame that sticks to my flesh. “I did hurt her, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But I did what was necessary. I put my own shit aside for her, and that, I won’t regret,” I say, my voice hoarse with emotion that surprises even me. “And even if I did, the damage is done, and I can’t undo it. I can’t change the past. It is what it is, and I’m sure she’ll get over it soon enough.”

He scoffs. “If you think that, you don’t know my sister. You have no idea how much she loves you.”

“Loved me.” I sit back down. “She hates me now.”

“There’s this stupid saying about a thin line between love and hate.”

“Spare me the romantic bullshit.”

Maximo straightens his shoulders, tapping his fingers on the headrest of his high-backed leather chair. “She’s hurting, and I should probably beat your fucking ass over it. But I know that when it comes to her, every decision you make is based on your instinct to protect her.” He lets go of the chair and steps back. “I respect that. And that’s the only reason I’ll keep this secret…at least until you say otherwise.”

“Which I never will. And why the fuck are we even talking about this? For years, you remained silent, yet today you’re all up in my ass about it.”

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, and I can practically smell his need to punch me in the face. “As I said,” he grits out, “some days, it’s hard to let her mourn the brother responsible for fucking up her life. Our lives.”

“Gentlemen.” Alexius appears in the doorway, and I know by the scowl on his face that he just heard everything. “I think we need to talk.”