Page 21 of Crimson Vows

“What makes you say that?” I ask, unable to hide my curiosity.

Nico shrugs, his expression unreadable. “He didn’t give much away; he said you and he were getting to know each other.”

My gaze narrows at his cryptic response, a surge of protectiveness rising within me. “We’re not exclusive,” I offer tentatively.

Nico’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of understanding passing between us. “Got it,” he replies simply, veiling any deeper emotions beneath a composed exterior.

I exhale slowly, intrigued by the thought Marco didn’t threaten to harm Nico for dating me. Perhaps he meant it when he told me he would share me if that’s what I wanted.

Nico shifts, breaking our gaze as he glances at his watch. “I’m starving. I booked us brunch at a place near the park.”

“Brunch sounds amazing,” I say, my voice more even than I feel. “I’m starving too.” After the multiple rounds with Marco overnight, I had worked up quite an appetite.

I’m surprised when Nico guides me to the subway rather than picking me up in one of the King family cars. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t have access to them whenever he wants or because he prefers the method of travel, but something about it is refreshing.

We weave through the throngs of people, each step putting distance between us and the weight of the morning’s tension. I sense his gaze on me occasionally, quiet as we reach our destination.

“Central Park is beautiful this time of year,” I mention, trying to keep the conversation light and airy.

“Nothing beats New York in the spring,” he agrees, with an appreciation in his voice.

The early sun warms my skin. With each block we cross, I find myself unwinding, loosening the knot in my stomach.

We cross another intersection, the walk signal blinking its steady rhythm. My heart matches the tempo, buoyant with newfound freedom. I can’t remember the last time I felt this unburdened or alive. I can’t figure out if it stems from my night with Marco or the promise of today with Nico.

As we approach the restaurant, Nico comments, “Smells good.” The scent of coffee and cooked breakfast wafts toward us.

“Smells like heaven,” I agree, my stomach reminding me how much I’m looking forward to this meal.

The brunch place is a cozy corner establishment, its windows fogged with warmth. We enter, and the rich and promising aroma envelops us.

“Table for two?” The hostess smiles, her eyes darting back and forth between us.

Nico gives his name for the reservation as my eyes take in the colorful decor and beautiful ornate high ceilings.

Nico and I follow the hostess to a booth. The velvet seats embrace us as we slide across from each other. Menus are presented with a flourish, and the server promises to return shortly with coffee.

I lean back, surveying the array of choices. But it’s not the menu that hooked me—it’s the man sitting opposite me.

“This place looks amazing,” I say, my voice a murmur of contentment.

“I wish I could take credit, but my sister was the one who told me about it,” Nico admits.

Sister. I had no idea that Nico had a sister. She was not in the waiting room the night we almost lost him. I want to ask about her absence, but I worry it would come off as insensitive.

“Then she has excellent taste,” I state with a chuckle, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

Small talk commences after we place our orders, and I’m relieved I don’t have to ask questions to learn more about Nico’s family because he eagerly shares. He tells me about his sister, Maria, and how she moved to Florida last year when her husband got a new job. He relates stories about growing up with her and how she helped shape him into the man he is today. The more he talks, the more I’m drawn to his openness.

Our brunch arrives, a feast for our senses. I slice through the golden crust of French toast soaked in maple syrup. The sweetness bursts on my tongue as I chew, savoring the rich flavors. Across from me, Nico’s knife glides through a stack of pancakes, the steam rising in lazy swirls.

The conversation shifts, flowing effortlessly between us as we share bites of our meals. When we first left on our date, Marco consumed my thoughts, but much to my surprise, the more time I spent with Nico, the more distant Marco was. I find myself opening up to Nico, telling him about my own childhood and the challenges I faced growing up in the Mafia world.

Nico shares stories of his upbringing, his struggles of growing up poor and how Marco was the one who helped him find a place in the King organization. It’s obvious he has an unwavering loyalty to those he cares about. His words are laced with sincerity, baring a part of himself that adds depth to the man sitting across from me.

A commotion erupts from the entrance of the bustling restaurant. The clamor of raised voices mixed with hurried footsteps breaks our intimate bubble, drawing our attention to the unfolding scene.

A group of well-dressed men flood into the establishment, their presence commanding attention. My heart stutters as recognition dawns on me—they work for one of Vincent’s capos. What are they doing here? A tingling sense of foreboding settles in my stomach, the air charged with an underlying tension.

---