Page 19 of Serendipity
I ran even as Nico pulled out his gun, determination shining in his eyes, pointing it in my direction.
I didn’t need words. I didn’t need to hear them spoken; I just knew.
I threw myself onto the floor as the first gunshot went out, whooshing through the air, followed by the cry of pain that didn’t belong to Nico or any of his men that trickled into the room.
I heard the second and the third one, and lifted my head only enough to see Nico going forward, coming closer to where I lay.
His sleek, dark shoes stopped in front of me, followed by his strong hands wrapping around my arms, lifting me. As soon as I was standing, breathing like I ran a marathon, he cradled my face in his hands, his eyes searching all over the place for wounds.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, when a growl tore from his mouth, and he pulled me closer, pressing my face into his chest.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, gripping his shirt on his back, hating the shivers shaking my body. I hated feeling powerless, hated feeling like there was nothing I could do. This entire situation today told me that there was a lot more to learn if I wanted to survive in his world.
He wrapped one arm beneath my knees, the second one holding my upper back, and lifted me as if I weighed nothing.
“Uh, Nico,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I can still walk. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Humor me, please.” His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes avoiding mine. As we went upstairs, my gaze never wavered from him.
But there was something wrong, something worse than what just happened, and I wasn’t going to sit idly by and wait for him to start talking.
“Are you just gonna keep ignoring me, or are we actually going to talk?”
A vein popped on his forehead, but he didn’t say a single word, even as he laid me on the large bed in the middle of the beautifully decorated bedroom, all in red and black tones, with hints of white on the carpet and paintings.
“Nico?”
“Somebody’s going to bring you some clothes until I make all the arrangements, and then you’ll be able to leave.”
Leave? “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll make sure that they bring sneakers as well. The shoes you were in yesterday got lost, but I’ll send you a new pair once you reach home.”
“Nico, talk to me.” I got up and started walking toward him, but he took a step back, putting his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor.
“I’ll have three of my guys escort you home, so you’ll definitely be safe.”
“Look at me, dammit.”
“And don’t worry about the missing days at work. I’ll talk to them about it.”
“You’ll talk to them?” I was becoming fucking furious. He thought he could just send me home like this when the shit hit the fan, because he was too terrified to face what just happened. “I don’t want you to fucking talk to them. I want you to look at me.”
I took another step toward him and he took another one back.
“It’s better this way, Alessia. I don’t want to think what could’ve happened if—”
“But it didn’t happen,” I argued. “Just because some psycho thought he could get inside your house and wreak havoc, doesn’t mean that you get to pull back from me. Just look at me, Nico.” I came closer, while he stood still with his hands balled into fists. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Why are you sending me away? I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to go back to the life I hated. Please, just talk to me.”
But instead of talking, instead of saying anything, he dropped down on his knees, pressing his face against my stomach, holding onto me like a lifeline, as if I was going to disappear any moment.
“Nico,” I choked out.
“I’m sorry,” he grunted. “I’m so sorry for what happened. When I saw you there, with his hands on you and his gun pressing against your head, I think that my soul shattered a bit.”
“But nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened this time. But what about the next time? Do you really want to live a life filled with violence and looking over your shoulder every single day? Do I want you to have that life?”
