Page 25 of Stricken

These thoughts never occurred to me much. I'm not someone who lets another take charge but with him I don't seem to care. It's unnerving how comfortable I feel with this man, given who he is. The nephew of my enemy. A man I should, by all rights, despise.

We fall into an easy silence for a second as Nico picks up his crumpled clothes from the floor.

"What are we doing here?" I murmur, more to myself than to him.

He turns to face me, blue eyes intense. "Living dangerously, I suppose. Isn't that what we do best?"

"Sure."

"This is a secret,caro."

"No one can know about us."

"No one," he agrees, pulling on his boxers.

I feel a weight settle in my chest as I watch him dress. This path we're treading is treacherous, lined with pitfalls and snares. One misstep could spell disaster for us both.

Yet as I look at Nico, I can't bring myself to regret what we've done. Not yet.

CHAPTER7

NICO

The sound of my phone ringing jolts me awake, shattering the pre-dawn stillness. I fumble for it, squinting at the too-bright screen. Costa's name flashes back at me.

"What?" I growl, voice rough with sleep and from that deepthroat session I offered Vlad Solovey the other day.

"Padrino, we have a problem," Costa's measured tone carries an undercurrent of tension. "The shipment from Brazil. It's been seized at the border."

My blood runs cold. I sit bolt upright, silk sheets pooling around my waist. "Come again?"

"It's gone."

"How the hell did that happen? Don't we have border patrol handled?"

"Not border patrol," Costa corrects. "Been highjacked right after crossing."

For a moment, I'm stunned, unsure if it's a dream or reality. The Morelli have pretty much half of the ATF agents and border patrol officers on their payroll. Even though we use safe routes, money buys us peace of mind.

"Padrino?" Costa calls. "Are you hearing me?"

My mind screams at me to stay focused, to snap out of my daze and return to the present. And although the present is grim, I have to deal with it. "Do you have any details?"

"I'm still gathering information," Costa replies, his calm demeanor grating on my frayed nerves. How can he be this collected when shit has literally just hit the fan?

"Gathering information?" I spit the words out like venom, knowing it's not his fault. "I need answers, Costa. Now. Who took our fucking cocaine?"

"I don't know yet, Nico. I'm working on it."

I run a hand through my disheveled hair, mind racing. This shipment was everything. The backbone in our deal with the Armenians. Without it...

"Merda," I mutter. "If the Armenians find out… This fucks everything. We don't have what we owe them in cash."

"I know." Costa's voice softens slightly. "We'll figure it out."

"We better," I snap. "Because if we don't, Uncle Tony will have our heads on a platter."

A heavy silence falls between us. I can almost see Costa's stoic nod through the phone.

---