Niccolo Fierri [Book #2]

Chapter 25

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I jolted up into a sitting position, covered in cold sweats and my heart beat racing. The room was dark, sending me back to the place I've been trying so hard to forget.

The lamp light on the nightstand is switched on. I twist my head to the left to see Niccolo staring back at me. "Where am I?" I ask.

"Your bedroom."

These Fierri's have no boundaries. I mean I don't even want to know how he got in.

I ask my next question, having been too tired to ask at the time. "How did you find me?"

"Jess. She left us a note in the pocket of her clothing telling us where Sin had taken you."

"Is Jess okay?"

He shakes his head. "Sin got to her before Marcellius could."

No.

No!

Tears burn my eyes as I begin to sob uncontrollably. Niccolo doesn't say or do anything, allowing me to sulk in my own grief. Wiping at the tears streaming down my face, I force myself out of bed.

"What are you doing? Get back in the bed," he demands.

"No!" I unintentionally snap. "I can't sleep when Jess' daughter is out there sick and without her mother to comfort her."

"It's not your problem," he replies coldly with a shrug. "Now get back in bed," he demands again, his tone firm, stoic.

"How can you be so cold!?" I scream, raising my voice. "And you wonder why people hate you- why I hate you! You're nothing but a coward- afraid to feel any emotion all because daddy abandoned you! Poor fucking Niccolo!"

He abruptly pushes himself off the chair he was sitting on. "Watch your mouth," he snarls calmly.

"No!" I retort. "I'll say whatever I want to say and you can't do shit about it!"

In a blink of an eye, Niccolo is on me, his hand tight around my throat, his gun withdrawn and aimed at my temple.

"Oh, so you're going to kill me now because you didn't get your way. Is that it?" I kicked him in his groin, pushing him back as hard as I could.

He groans a pained curse word, clutching his groin and glaring angrily at me. "You ungrateful bitch! I saved your fucking life! A life you clearly don't deserve by the way!"

"Fuck you!"

"Been there, done that!" He snaps back, stepping forward to close the gap between us, and possibly to kill me.

Thinking about defending myself, I grab anything that can be used as a possible weapon against him.

I grab the nearest items and begin throwing them at him. Pillows, clothes, a cup of pencils, sciccors, and even a glass cup I left in my room the other day.

He dodges them with ease, his temper only growing. The glass I threw managed to graze his cheek before shattering into pieces from colliding into the wall behind him, slicing a horizontal line in his skin. Blood drips from his cheek, and that's when I realize I've gone too far.

Pure rage blankets his face, his brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his teeth bared. He sighs, taking his index finger and wiping the blood clean from his cheek. "You cut me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Oh but you did, princess," he replies frighteningly calm. His hazel eyes are angry and sinster like a... like a monster. "You're going to regret doing that."

I back myself against a window sill to maintain a safe amount of distant. He closes the gap, pinning his body against mine so I can't move. The cool muzzle of the gun is now pressed to the center of my forehead.

Courage masks my fear. "Go ahead and do it. Go ahead and add me to your long list of victims. You don't care about me anyway. I'm just a means to an end," I snarl at him.

"That's where your wrong, Autumn." He removes the gun off safety, my heart rattling against my ribcage in terror.

He's going to do it.

He's going to actually kill me.

I'm waiting for the gunshot, but it never comes. I open my eyes as he rakes his gun over my cheek and under my chin. He lifts my head to meet his gaze. "I do care. And I hate that I care. I hate that all I can think about is you- Autumn, the damn princess."

"Why is that so bad?"

"Because..." A glint of an unreadable expression etches into his features. His Adam's apple bobs up in down in his throat as he swallows.

"Nic, look at me."

He doesn't budge, so I say again, begging, pleading. "Nic, please look at me." He brings his gaze back to me. "Say it."

"No, I can't."

He's afraid. He's afraid of what he's feeling because he thinks I will abandon him like his father did.

Getting down on my knees, I look up at him with pleading eyes. "I want to hear you say it." I bite my lip, begging again. "Please."

He looks down at me, so clearly hesitant to voice those three words. "I thought I would never see you again." He sounds like Luciano, his voice soft, fragile, vulnerable.

"I'm not your father, Nic. Even in death, I'll always be by your side," I tell him softly. I never knew I could be this way with someone I hated. Or at least, thought I hated.

He doesn't respond.

I stand back to my feet. Walking back over to my bed, I sit down on the edge and spread my legs.

Dropping my hand down between my thighs, I begin to rub myself through the fabric of my panties. Whimpering, I say, "If you can't tell me, then show me."