Page 69 of Forgotten Deeds

Romeo watches the woman like a hawk, and I’m borderline concerned for her safety. She apparently is not, as she greets him with a kiss. Turning to me, she says, “Hi, there. I’m Nicky. You must be Lily. It’s so nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand without batting an eye.

I, on the other hand, am having trouble keeping my eyes from bugging out of my head—it’s Candy from Joe’s Cabaret! “Hi,” I manage, shaking her hand.

“Darius, nice to see you again,” Nicky says. She leans back against Romeo, who drapes his arms around her. I try not to marvel—it’s like watching a woman stick her head in the mouth of a lion, yet somehow not being ripped to shreds.

“You too, Nicky. How’s Luca?” Darius asks.

Nicky clucks her tongue. “A terrible patient. Nearly as bad as this one,” she says, jerking her head behind her toward Romeo. “But Luca is doing much better.”

Speaking of patients, I say, “Nicky, do you mind taking a look at Darius’ arm? He has a little ‘scrape.’” If Darius thought I’d forget about it, he’s sorely mistaken.

“Let me see,” Nicky orders.

Darius grumbles something in Italian as he unbuttons his shirt, and Romeo smirks, saying something back to him in Italian.

“I caught that.” Nicky narrows her eyes at the men before turning her attention to me. “I’m taking Italian lessons so I know what these stronzia are saying.”

“Stronzi,” Romeo corrects her.

“Stronzia,” Nicky fires back at Romeo.

Darius chuckles, shrugging out of his dress shirt and peeling off the bandage on his tricep. It looks just as bad as last night, if not worse.

Nicky walks over to take a closer look, raising an eyebrow. “By scrape, you mean bullet graze. I wouldn’t recommend sutures—the wound’s too shallow. Can someone grab my medical bag from the car while I wash up? Lily, come chat with me,” Nicky commands.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lily

I follow Nicky down the hall, and she ushers me inside the bathroom and closes the door. “Thanks for playing it cool back there,” she says, turning on the water as she soaps up her hands, giving them a wash. “Romeo knows I used to dance while I was in school, but not everyone in the family does. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Not a problem,” I tell her. “Darius knows I used to dance, but only a few others do. I also want to keep it that way.”

“Deal.” She smiles, drying her hands. “I’m so happy for you and Darius. I always liked you, and Darius is like a brother to Romeo.”

“Thank you. But I’ve got to admit, your fiancé is intimidating.”

“That’s just Romeo. You’ll get used to him. Could you get the door for me?” She holds up her hands—I guess to keep them clean.

I do so, and follow Nicky back to the family room. She puts on gloves from a large black bag laid open on the coffee table, before walking over to Darius. “May I touch your wound?”

He nods, and she runs her finger along the divot in his flesh. “Does that hurt?”

“Maybe if you poured some salt in the wound first before poking it,” Darius jokes.

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Romeo advises.

“Luckily for you, I don’t have any salt in my bag,” Nicky says smartly. “But I also don’t have antibiotic cream; are you allergic to honey?”

“No,” he says, surprised by the question.

She likewise surprises me by pulling out a jar of honey and a swab. “All is well when the honey—”

“Is sweet,” Darius finishes for her. “Greek proverb,” he explains to me.

Nicky gives Romeo a little smile before turning her attention back to Darius. “Natural antibiotic,” she explains. Dabbing the sticky honey on the wound, she applies a bandage. “There you go. Keep it dry for at least twenty-four hours. If the skin around it becomes hot or an angry shade of red, call me. Another tip—try not to get shot next time,” she says, shaking her head. “I need to wash up again. Be right back,” she tells me, walking out.

“Excellent tips,” Darius calls after her, buttoning up his shirt.

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