Page 112 of The Viper's Wife

His expression turns hungry. “You’d look amazing in a black dress.”

“Your sister would kill me.”

“Not if it was designer.”

I huff a laugh. From what I’ve seen of Alessia, he’s not wrong. “She’s kind of a handful, isn’t she?”

Nico scoffs. “She goes through personal assistants like Kleenex, and I’ve seen her make grown men cry. The fact that you’ve lasted so long is a true testament to how well you fit in with my family,” he says warmly before his expression shutters. “Val, I have to tell you something.”

I narrow my eyes at him, racking my brain for what he might say next—if he’s already going to make me regret trusting him again.

“Come here.” He leads me to the pink couch, sits, and pulls me on top of him.

“Nico,” I complain, pushing against him as he arranges my legs over his.

“You’ll want to sit for this,” he says. He gathers my hands in his, tracing little circles over my skin. The air between us grows thick and somber. “My father’s dying.”

I clutch his hands, searching his face for how to react. He doesn’t like his dad, but I know better than anyone how a sudden loss can leave you unmoored with nothing but a tangled net of messy emotions.

He smiles bitterly. “Cancer. Stage four. Mamma told me he wants me to take his place if he dies. I always knew it’d be a possibility, but now, it could happen very soon.”

My lungs are frozen. This isn’t about his dad dying. It’s about what happens next, what it means for us.

“Nico, I don’t want you to be a don.”

“Look at that,” he says with a small smile, his golden eyes practically glowing as the light hits them just right, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’re already thinking like a team. I couldn’t agree more.”

21

NICO

I called Father again.

Then Mamma. She tells me she refuses to get in between Father and me, like what’s going on is only a little spat, and asks after Valeria.

In front of her private airplane, Alessia tells me I’m an idiot for giving Valeria ten times the cash I took from her.

“If she runs, she dies,” Alessia said, carving into the edge of her lipstick with one caramel nail and adjusting her oversized sunglasses. “The Russians will get her. Gio’s said as much. If you love her, you’ll make Papà happy and keep her in your apartment until you get her pregnant with an heir.”

Valeria won’t let me get close enough to even consider trying.

She’s testing me. She thinks all I care about is fucking her—and while Ilovefucking Valeria and my balls are bursting at the seams—I’m glad she’s doing it.

I’m going to prove her wrong, and that’ll be one more crack in her armor.

Every night this week, I’ve crawled into bed, pulled her against me so her ass nestles into my lap, and when shesleepily murmursno, I hold her close and tell her about what I plan to cook for her the next day.

The next afternoon, I drag myself out of bed, we walk to the grocery store together, and she makes collages in the kitchen while I cook dinner.

Stewed lamb with mint—she doesn’t like lamb.

Sushi—she doesn’t like raw fish.

Eggplant caponata—she hates the hard-boiled eggs my mamma’s version includes.

Anelletti with tomato sauce and ricotta—ding, ding—I saw her resolve to keep me at arm’s length crumble with every bite.

I’ll make her a BLT tomorrow.