Page 54 of Stricken

He stands there, right in front of me, a living work of art—water cascading down his skin like rain over marble. I picture us as just another couple, after an evening painted with laughter and dim city lights, returning home to devour plates of syrup-drenched pancakes or crispy bacon alongside perfectly scrambled eggs before tangling up in bed together.

But reality stings—a raw reminder that these dreams slip through my fingers like sand. I'm not someone who gets to live openly, unapologetically as a partner or be the comforting shoulder when tears fall. Instead, I'm hidden beneath layers I can't shake off.

CHAPTER18

NICO

I walk briskly down the cold, marble corridor of the Morelli mansion, my footsteps reverberating through the halls like the haunting memories of the deadly night's events. My heart pounding in my chest is a relentless reminder of what transpired in Vlad's apartment.

The fight replays in my head: fists flying, bodies colliding unforgivingly, blade shimmering in the scattered neon light, the sickening sounds of flesh meeting flesh. The worst is the look on Vlad's face, contorted. Wasn't panic. Wasn't even fear, but something was different about it. He was different.

I clench my jaw, willing the images away, but they cling to me like the blood-drenched shirt we burned somewhere in the desert.

I curse in the privacy of my mind. In Italian.

I'm glad the bruises and cuts on my body are hidden beneath the clothes. Don't need to come up with explanations in front of anyone at this house.

When I enter Tony's office after a polite knock, the heavy door groans as if in protest and then swings shut behind me. I can sense the tense atmosphere in the room even before Uncle and I lock gazes. Tony, usually sharp and assessing, sits behind his grand desk, still imposing but his eyes are dull and weary. I have to remind myself that he is in his seventies and not getting any younger. He tries to lead a healthy lifestyle but that doesn't negate the fact that his doctor is in and out of the mansion at odd hours and under a veil of secrecy. The old ticker must be giving Tony trouble again.

"Nicola," he says. "Sit."

I settle into the chair across, my eyes never leaving his aged face. The cruel hand of time has left its mark on Tony's once-untouchable visage, carving deep lines around his mouth and eyes, pointing out the bold dagger of a deep-set stare.

"What's this about?" I ask carefully.

There is a bit of quiet in the office as Uncle studies my face. Finally, his gravelly voice breaks the silence. "How are you doing, nephew?"

The stolen shipment and attack on Roberto weigh on me like an anchor, threatening to drag me under. But I can't let it show. Not here. Not now. "I'm fine, Uncle. Thank you for asking." I force a smile. "I heard Roberto's doing much better."

Tony nods. "Thank God. He'll be as good as new in a couple of months."

"That's great to hear."

Tony leans forward slightly, his expression darkening. "But tell me, Nicola, what's this I hear about your recent dealings with the Russians?"

My heart drops to my stomach. Questions swirl in my mind, one after another. How did he find out? What exactly he knows? Is he here to tell me I'm not a Morelli?

I struggle to keep my face neutral as panic scratches at my insides.

"I heard you asked them for help," Tony continues, his tone a dangerous mix of concern and authority. "I told you to stay away. Remember? You know the Russians, Nico. They'll want a piece of our pie."

I swallow hard, my mind racing. I better tread carefully since he hasn't mentioned Vlad specifically. "Uncle, I—"

"Don't try to deny it," he cuts me off, waving a hand dismissively.

"I'm not denying it."

"Then why do I find out from some street rat?"

"This favor was asked in private. If you found out, then they have a leak."

"People will talk. Say the Morelli are weak."

The room suddenly feels too small, too hot. "It was a necessary move, Uncle. Given the circumstances—"

"Necessary?" Tony's eyes narrow. "You think involving outsiders in our family business is necessary?"

I bite back a retort, knowing it would only make things worse. Instead, I nod solemnly. "I understand your concerns, Uncle. But I assure you, the Russians won't be demanding anything in return. They're not looking to encroach on our territory."

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