Page 22 of Crimson Vows

Nico’s jaw tightens, a mirror of my own unease, as he observes the newcomers with a guarded expression. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

The men scan the room until they land on us, their eyes narrowing until one of them starts walking toward our table. The click of his polished shoes against the tiled floor reverberates in the hushed atmosphere, each step a deliberate advance toward us. Nico shifts subtly, his muscles tense with a coiled energy. My mind races with questions, the air heavy with an unspoken tension threatening to unravel the fragile peace we had found during brunch.

“I’m sorry about this,” Nico whispers in my direction.

As the man reaches our table, his eyes flit between Nico and me, his voice low.

“Nico,” he says before greeting me with a sharp nod, his tone neutral yet tinged with an undercurrent of something I can’t quite decipher. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Suddenly, I detect a venom in his voice.

“Dante, what the fuck are you doing here?” Nico asks as he springs from his seat, gripping the man by his muscular arm and pulling him toward the back of the restaurant. I glance at the other men waiting for Dante near the entrance then back to the heated discussion between the two men who just left my presence.

I’ve seen but never met Dante, though I do know him by his reputation. He’s known to be a hothead and doesn’t mind getting into brawls with anyone who crosses him.

I watch as the confrontation unfolds in the restaurant’s corner. Nico and Dante’s hushed exchange escalates into a heated discussion. The tension in the air crackles, setting my nerves on edge.

They are too far for me to catch their exact words, but I can sense the gravity of their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has stirred something primal within them.

My fingers grip the napkin in my lap, my eyes darting between the two men as their voices rise. The other patrons steal furtive glances in my direction, a collective unease settling over the once-cozy establishment.

As the tension between Nico and Dante peaks, a surge of anxiety knots in my stomach. Their heated debate has escalated into something far more dangerous than I anticipated. Nico’s jaw muscles flex, a silent battle raging within him. At the same time, Dante’s demeanor remains as icy as ever.

Suddenly, Dante grabs the back of Nico’s head and draws him close, whispering something into his ear. The two men seem almost as if they are suspended in time as I watch them, and something about how they interact with each other is almost erotic. Suddenly, Nico shoves Dante back, causing a chair to topple over with a loud clang reverberating through the restaurant. The other men accompanying Dante move instinctively, positioning themselves strategically around the scene. Nico glares at the two men.

“Go!” Nico shouts. “Now!”

Dante looks over at me before he complies, his head hanging low before he skulks out the way he came, his friends following close. My eyes are fixed on Nico as he approaches the table. He pauses at the hostess stand, slipping a roll of money to the woman and whispering what I assume is an apology before joining me.

As he rejoins me at the table, I speak before he has a chance to do the same to me, “What the fuck was that?”

Nico shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. When he asked me what I was doing today, and I told him about the date I planned, I never imagined he’d show up here. I should have known better,” Nico says, his voice laced with regret. “Dante has a way of... complicating things.”

I glance around the restaurant, noting the lingering stares and hushed whispers that follow Dante’s departure. The patrons seem wary, as if the sudden tension had seeped into the very walls of the establishment.

“What did he want?” I ask, my gaze searching Nico’s face for answers.

Nico’s expression tightens as he considers his response, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features before he meets my gaze. His voice is measured as he replies, “Dante doesn’t like complications, especially when it concerns those he cares about.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words, the weight of Dante’s ominous visit settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. “Complications? Do you mean Marco? He doesn’t want you dating me because I’m dating Marco?”

Nico laughs, his eyes widening as he takes a swig from the water glass before him. “No, Dante being upset has nothing to do with Marco.”

“That’s funny?”

Nico leans in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he confesses, his eyes searching mine for any trace of understanding. “Please try to understand Dante is protective of the family, but sometimes his methods... well, he doesn’t always think things out.”

My mind whirls with a mix of confusion and unease at the revelation. Dante’s interference raises more questions.

Nico’s cryptic words linger in the air, leaving an unsettling echo in my mind. The puzzle pieces refuse to connect, my thoughts swirling with apprehension and curiosity. As Nico leans back in his chair, a contemplative expression crossing his features, I notice a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

I take a deep breath, my voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside me. “Nico, what aren’t you telling me? What’s the real reason Dante came here today?” My words hang like a challenge, a silent plea for clarity amid chaos.

Nico meets my gaze head-on, unwavering yet tinged with a hint of discomfort.

“Please, if nothing else, I’m your friend,” I plead. “What’s going on?”

He exhales slowly. In a low voice, he leans close and says, “After I was in the hospital, Dante had trouble sorting through some feelings.”

“Feelings?”

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