Sondra
“Everyone’s trying to figure out who you are,” I murmur to Nico. We’re sitting in the cafe of the Met, drinking espresso to revive ourselves from our long day of walking through the art museum. Yes, he flew me on a private jet to New York City this morning and demanded I show him all the best the Met had to offer. Considering it’s my first trip to New York, let alone the Met, my bucket is beyond full.
Nico’s as handsome as ever in one of his fine suits and he looks like some kind of celebrity amongst the tourists. He arches a brow. “Me? No, amore. They’re looking at you. I heard one couple whispering that you’re a famous actress.” He picks up my hand and runs his thumb over my fingers.
If I’d worried that Nico and I would have nothing to talk about if we actually had time to spend together, I was wrong. He told me all about growing up in Chicago-the things he misses from the city, the things he doesn’t. How and why he ended up in Vegas.
I told him about Michigan, growing up across the street from Corey. How she became like a sister to me.
He rubs his stubbled jaw. “Here’s the thing I keep wondering, Sondra.”
“What?”
“How a woman as beautiful as you ended up in Reno with that lowlife bartender. It doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t you already married to some smart, nice intellectual who can talk about art and shit with you?”
I try to cover how much the question wounds me. Isn’t it the same one I’ve asked myself three dozen times?
I draw in a breath. “Well. I guess I had a smart, nice intellectual for a boyfriend when I was getting my Masters. He cheated on me with my best friend. Tanner-”
“Don’t say his name.” Nico closes his eyes like I’m greatly testing his patience.
“-he wasn’t the first to cheat on me. And John wasn’t even the first. Before that, my boyfriend in high school hooked up with a girl while camped out in line for concert tickets to Coldplay.”
Nico whistles. “That’s a bad pattern.”
“Yeah. I have terrible taste-” I break off too late. Nico’s expression darkens.
I clear my throat. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“No, you’re right,” he says. “I don’t cheat. You don’t need to worry about that. But I’m all wrong for you. Definitely wrong.”
The knife that’s been in my chest since the day I met him twists and I lose my breath.
“Stop saying that.” I should appreciate that he recognizes what a bad match we are, but I don’t. I resent the hell out of it. Because every time feels like another rejection. It’s just that this one isn’t for another woman, it’s for his job.
His life.
And I know he probably can’t help it. He is who he is.
Nico sits taller, watching me intently. “Why, cucciola mia? We both know it’s true.”
My eyes fill with tears and I lunge up out of my chair. He catches my hand and pulls me to his lap, oblivious to everyone in the crowded cafe. His strong arms band around me. “I wish I could be someone else for you. I want to be. But I can’t. I have family obligations you cannot fathom. I don’t see how I’ll ever be free of who and what I am.”
I give up the struggle and collapse back against him. He’s not saying he doesn’t want me. I’m finally hearing the words for what they are. He’s being realistic. Telling me he’s a Tacone.
So the question is-can I live with all that means?
Nico
We get back to the casino the next morning. I would’ve liked to stay longer, but until Stefano arrives, I can’t leave the operation unmanned for long.
Sondra sucked my dick on the plane ride home, which made me feel like a fucking king.
I’m happy, maybe for the first time in my life. Not just satisfied. Not proud of some accomplishment, not drunk on power, but genuinely happy. Sondra’s telling me all her plans for the casino redecoration, which is pure genius. She’s figured out ways to use much of what’s already in the Bellissimo, just rearranging it and categorizing things to fit into different Italian art movements and styles.
I escort her into the Bellissimo at the same time I hear Tony, who picked us up from the private airport, utter a low curse.
There, making a beeline straight for us, is a gorgeous leggy brunette.
Jenna Pachino.
“I’ll handle this,” Tony says. But I can’t snub her. To do so could start a war. I’m in a tricky fucking situation and any wrong word could cause things to implode.
Cristo, Madonna e Dio, why didn’t I deal with this situation sooner? Put more thought into the problem? Apply a little finesse? Now I’m about to fuck everything up.
“Jenna.” I try to keep the stiffness out of my tone. I take her shoulders and we do the two-cheek kiss.
Sondra’s gone rigid beside me.
Of course, this is her sore spot.
I put my hand on her back to reassure her, but Jenna’s eyes track to it. Christ, I don’t want her telling her dad I disrespected her.
I am so fucked.
Tony steps in to distract and they cheek-kiss.
“Tony, will you get Jenna anything she needs and take her up to my office?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I’ll be right up.”
Jenna’s gaze trails to Sondra. I haven’t made the introduction. What in the fuck am I going to say? There’s seriously nothing I can say that won’t permanently fuck me over with one or both of them.
She doesn’t look suspicious-more curious-but the undercurrent of tension is so thick between us, it’s a wonder we can see through it.
Tony puts a hand on Jenna’s lower back and escorts her away and I blow out my breath.
Sondra’s turned pale, her expression flat.
“She’s the daughter of another don in Chicago,” I say as soon as she’s out of earshot. “I don’t know what she wants, but I have to meet with her. I will keep it brief.”
Alarm flashes over Sondra’s face and I know I’ve said the exact wrong thing.
For the life of me, though, I can’t figure out how to dissipate this burgeoning disaster.
“Sondra?” I tuck a knuckle under her chin.
She jerks away.
“No.” I make my voice firm. I have no idea why I chose to go hard with her, instead of coaxing, but it seems to work. She obeys the authority in my voice and turns back. I shake my head. “You think I’m fucking that girl, don’t you?”
Her head wobbles on her neck. “Are you?” The tremor in her voice kills me.
“I’ve never touched her. Ever. Do you trust me?”
I hold my breath. Of course she doesn’t fucking trust me. If she did, she wouldn’t look like I just killed her kitten.
She shrugs. “I don’t know, Nico. I have a bad history with this.”
“I know.” I step into her space and grip her shoulders, showing how serious I am with the intensity of my gaze. “That’s why I froze when she ambushed us. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
I see her waver. I’m making headway.
“Please trust me. I’m going to find out what she wants and get rid of her. I will not cheat on you. Ever. Can you believe that?”
Her lips tremble slightly, but she lifts her chin. “I want to. I just don’t know.”
I nod. That’s probably as good as I’m going to get.
“I will prove it to you. Just give me a chance, okay, baby? I can’t lose you now. I can’t.” I try to show her one small fraction of the vulnerability she offers me.
Her eyelashes flutter and she nods. I cup her face and kiss her-the most gentle kiss I’ve laid on her. It’s as sweet as a promise. As sacred as a blessing.
She doesn’t return it at first, but then she softens, moves her lips against mine. I stroke her hair. “Will you be in your suite?”
She nods.
“I’ll find you there.”
I kiss her again and leave.
Fuck. Now if only I can manage not to start a war over Jenna Pachino.