Page 58 of Stricken

Nico's gaze locks onto mine, unwavering. "Someone already saw us. My cousin Salvatore knows."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I struggle to keep my face impassive, but inside, I'm reeling. "How?" I manage. "We've been careful."

"I don't know." Nico runs a hand through his hair. "But he approached me today. Hinted at things he shouldn't be aware of."

"Fuck," I hiss, pacing now. "What exactly did he say?"

Nico's expression darkens. "Enough to make it clear he's been watching us. Closely. I think I was the sole target. You were just a bonus."

I stop, turning to face him. "And what does he want?"

"What Salvatore always wants," Nico says bitterly. "Power. Leverage. To destroy me."

My fist clenches as I process this new threat. Salvatore Morelli—a name I heard once or twice but never really cared to dig deeper. Tony's younger son. No one in this city takes him seriously. But apparently they should. "And what does it take for him to keep his mouth shut?" I ask first, but in my head, I'm already working out various ways of eliminating the asshole for good.

Anger fills Nico's eyes. "He wants me to back off from the family business. To give up my shot at running things when Tony retires. He claims he'll keep our secret if I do as he says." Nico's laugh is hollow. "As if I'd trust that snake."

I run a hand over my face, frustrated. "How sure are you that he actually knows something? Could he be bluffing?"

Nico shakes his head. "No. He wouldn't have thought of something like this for a bluff alone. This is—us—only someone who's been tailing me could know."

My mind races, calculating risks and potential moves. But I have to keep into an account that he's Nico's cousin. Nico's family. Even though I know firsthand that blood doesn't always mean we have to forgive. "Is Salvatore worth watching out for? How dangerous is he?"

"Dangerous enough," Nico says grimly. "He's cunning, patient. The kind who'd wait years to strike if it meant getting what he wants. He's been slowly working Tony over."

I nod, processing. "Everyone has secrets, Nico. We can dig up dirt on him too."

"If we never noticed we were being watched, Sal's not stupid. He probably covered his own tracks, took precautions."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across my face. "Then we'll need someone who's better at staying hidden than his people." I pause, an idea forming. "I know just the person. Someone who can track him without being noticed."

Nico raises an eyebrow. "You sure about this?"

I meet his gaze, letting him see the steel in my eyes. "Trust me, Romeo." I take a step forward, closing the distance between us, erasing this void. My gaze drops to his lips. I know it's dangerous but the thrill of discovery only makes the kiss sweeter when my lips press up to his. He responds instantly, tongue flicking over mine, wet and teasing. I fist his shirt and yank him to me until the air is out of my lungs and I need to pull back a little to get more oxygen.

"Is this smart, Vladimir?" he husks out, but the fire in his eyes tells me he doesn't mind it at all. On the contrary, he likes this just as much as I do.

"We're about to become hunters," I tell him and claim his mouth once more.

CHAPTER20

NICO

I stare at the ceiling, the tension from my meeting with Vartan still tight in my chest. His icy glare and unfriendly words are an endless loop of barely contained threat as I churn them over in my mind.

Where's the rest of the money, boy? David doesn't like to be kept waiting. I told you what would happen to you. Your friendship with Vladimir won't save you for much longer.

My jaw clenches as I recall my people handing over two black duffel bags. Only half of what we owe for the shipment debacle. Vlad's influence with the Armenians pushed back the deadlines just far enough for us to scrape up some goodwill cash. And this goodwill will not last long.

"I'll have the remainder by next week," I told the old man.

Vartan's thin smile held no humor, only menace. "See that you do. For your sake."

I roll onto my side, burying my face in the pillow. As if pleading with Vartan wasn't embarrassing enough, facing Uncle's wrath right before the meeting with the Armenians was its own special hell. The memory rises, unwelcome—Tony's weathered face mottled red, a vein pulsing at his temple as he slammed a fist on the desk.

"Dio cane, Nicola! How could you let this happen in the first place? That shipment was worth millions! Our enemies will see us as weak and bowing down to the Armenians. It won't be long until they come after what's rightfully ours in this city."

I met his glare, refusing to flinch. "It wasn't my fault, Zio."

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