Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Frankie peered around, unconcerned with the strangers and some familiar faces moving about them, as Nico checked in his heavy overcoat and her fur shawl at the coat room. The quiet teenager, maybe fourteen if that, took the items with a tentative smile but she didn’t meet his eyes as she handed over the tag with the appropriate number to collect the items on the way out.
“Tall tree,” Frankie noted of the Christmas fur in the entry.
It stood at least twenty feet high. Decorated in only red and gold, just the way Giorgio liked. Some shit never changed.
“Why does this look so familiar?” she asked as if to herself.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Nico returned, following a step or so behind Salvatore.
“Even the marble...”
Oddly familiar.
“That’s because when I made the order for a hundred slabs of Calcutta marble for Carina’s closet,” Salvatore told them over his shoulder, “someone else decided I should add an extra three hundred slabs onto the order for him so he could similarly replicate my entry that he liked so much.”
Frankie looked at Nico who just huh’d under his breath.
“Guess who also paid for it?” Salvatore asked.
He clearly didn’t mean for them to answer, so they didn’t.
“That’s kinda fucked,” Nico murmured in Frankie’s ear.
Her expression said the same.
“How often does things like that happen, Daddy?” Frankie asked.
“More than I want to discuss,” Salvatore grumbled. “And so, we won’t.”
The closer the three came to the dining hall, the more Nico noticed the stares and whispering. It couldn’t be helped that people noticed him, given the house belonged to his father and he happened to be the son that didn’t get shown off as the pride and joy of the Russo family. Not that he minded. He just didn’t realize how it would feel to be stared at and whispered about when he was something more than the problem kept hidden away.
“You okay?” Frankie asked Nico.
He winked down at her. “Great, babe.”
She didn’t need to know the difference.
Reaching up to wipe a piece of fuzz from his lapel, he heard the first comment of what would likely be many over the evening. “Is that an engagement ring?” someone hissed.
Frankie didn’t appear to hear the comment, or another one that soon followed when she reached up to playfully pat the side of Nico’s grinning cheek.
“Love you,” she told him.
“Love you,” he said back.
Nico wrapped his arm tighter around Frankie’s waist, yanking her closer. He had to remind himself not to touch his son which ended up being harder than he thought. A second nature to him now. He constantly sought the spot where she carried their child because it gave him comfort and perspective when he needed it most. She didn’t seem to mind that he pulled her into him, so much so they were practically wrapped up in one another. She just smiled sweetly when he pressed a kiss to her temple while her hand rested against the center of his chest.
“You know, you still haven’t given me an idea of what to get you for Christmas.”
He had time, so he would keep pestering her. Giorgio didn’t usually have his holiday party until New Years, but he opted for an earlier party this year, with less than two weeks to go until Christmas.
“Seriously,” Nico repeated, “what do you want?”
“What do you want?” she returned.
He chuckled darkly. “You, a bed to ruin, and a locked door for hours. I don’t like getting presents. People never gift me things I like, just what they do. You’re my ultimate treasure, anyway, so I don’t think another gift would ever measure up. Not when you’re what I’m comparing it to.”
“I better made sure that gift always happens then, huh?” Frankie drummed her red, sharp nails against his vest.
The promise did something wonderful and wicked to him. Enough that he grabbed her chin and tipped her face upward to give him better access to those red lips of hers for a kiss that had the hallway watchers whistling. The noise made Sal turn around to see what caused it.
Nico grinned, pulling away. “Get the fucking lipstick off me, would you?”
She tried to wipe it away as they entered the dining hall.
“I think that’s good,” Frankie said about his mouth.
Nico went to respond, but a familiar laugh stopped him from saying anything at all. He turned cold all over. How could she sound the same after all those years? They had been teenagers. Young, stupid teenagers. Children, practically, except children should not do the things they did together.
How could her laughter sound the fucking same? He heard his father’s raucous glee filling the room, too.
Frankie noticed the way he froze. “Nico?”
He didn’t scan the room to find the owner of the familiar laugh. He didn’t search for his father, and he paid no mind to how far ahead Salvatore had become since Nico stopped Frankie near the entryway. He put his back to the rest of the room, focusing on Frankie instead.