Song: ZAYN - You wish you knew( slowed + reverb)
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico
"You can't fuck her."
I swipe my tounge across my front teeth in an attempt to stop the sour look that's threatening to cross my face, but it doesn't work.
I was a man, and that fragile little ego of mine didn't like it when someone told me what to do. Not even him. "How about you take a fucking second to yourself and then try that again."
The man on the other end of the phone sighs. "Cazzo, you're a fucking headcase, you know that?" (Italian| fuck)
My eyes zero in on the heaps of people filing out of my building. "And you live with a fucking headcase, what's new." I say as I unlock my car door and slide into the drivers seat.
Not only was I still in my sleepwear, but I had to wait until the firefighters swept the entire sixth floor of the building before I could get back in.
I glance down at the time on the dashboard. A fire at nine in the fucking morning. Now, I'm not superstitious, but that's gotta mean something.
"Watch it, Rosso." He growls, his voice hardening and I set the phone on speaker, tossing it in my cup holder before starting the engine of the 79' Mustang that protests under mg weight.
A sound of amusement escapes my lips and I shake my head at the man on the other end.
Alessio Galanti - The Don of the Italian mafia and the only man I deemed somewhat respectable was pussy whipped by a spoiled little bitch and it was making my life hell.
The man lived across the street from me, for fucks sake, but I hadn't been able to catch him.
We had business to conduct, but the asshole wouldn't give me the time of day because when he was in town, he was balls deep in his little princess.
Giana Moretto.
Sometimes, I still fantasized about her. About how it'd feel to watch the life drain from her eyes. The happiness it'd bring me to see the last trace of Arturo Moretto wiped clean from this earth.
Because he deserved it.
No, he deserved much worse.
"Why is that you're keeping her around, again?" Alessio asks.
I remain silent as I pull away from the curb and head towards the loft in Brooklyn. I didn't make it a habit to tell people shit, but I was going into business with Alessio.
"A gut feeling." Is all I offer.
"A gut feeling?" He finally repeats a moment later, his tone dry.
I don't respond and he lets out a heavy breath of frustration, no doubtedly rubbing at his temples.
"So let me guess. Your gut is now telling you that you need to fuck her?" He deadpans.
"No, that's ridiculous." I wave off, as I come to a stand still in Manhattan traffic, thank fuck Bambi left before the fire alarm went off. I didn't have the patience for her, right now. "That would be my dick talking." I offer blandly, reaching for a cigarette.
He doesn't respond and the tension pouring through the phone is unmistakable, but I relish in it, find comfort in it.
I bring the cigarette to my lips and cup the end as I hold my lighter up, prepared to light it, but pause at his next words. "You still using?"
I roll my neck, working off the sudden tension in my shoulders. As far as he knew, I was still a careless, unstable liability that got high off his own shit and anything else he could get his hands on.
But he didn't need to know anything. He didn't need to know that I'd been clean for a few months now. Or that I hadn't had the urge to forget since this morning.
Alessio continues speaking, no doubtedly taking my silence as means to start reprimanding me. "Rosso men aren't foolish enough to let something like desire distract them from the goal - whatever that may be."
I start rolling my shoulders as my fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
Alessio always was an idiot.
While he had the ability to excel in tense situations and think rationally under pressure. He lacked the ability to read people, people in our line of work.
And my point is proven when the dumbass continues on with his little fucking spiel as if I'd actually give a fuck as to what he had to say.
"Now, I may not know what role she could possibly play in whatever it is your doing." I can practically see the frown of disapproval.
Fuck you, the opinion of a Galanti that's in bed with a Moretto doesn't mean shit to me.
"But you were raised better." He finishes.
You were raised better.
You were raised better.
You were raised better.
Alessio's words drown out and my fists tighten around the steering wheel, squeezing the leather so hard that I can feel a hollow dent begin to form.
I wasn't raised better. I was conditioned better.
And by better, I mean, conditioned to keep my eyes trained on the goal and reach it, by any means possible.
Life didn't mean anything, people didn't either. They were distractions and often times the target to kill.
Tunnel vision, is what they'd call it.
Kill, manipulate, destroy.
I could do anything and everything a highly trained Made Man could do, only without the little neural responses responsible for empathy, remorse and hesitation.
I could kill him - A Don - succeed, and walk away from the repercussions without batting an eye - given the right incentive.
But I'd learned that tunnel vision was a weapon only effective to the users. Not to the one being used.
I'd been their secret weapon and when I got out, i'd learned that they'd stripped me of far more than what I'd finally come to terms with.
I was trained to detect and eliminate any threat that could arise human emotion. But there was one minor miscalculation my benefactors failed to account for.
There was no escaping the human mind. More so, the cognitive responses and behavioral changes evoked from certain events - aka primary emotions.
Fear, joy, disgust, sadness, surprise and most importantly, anger.
I was a psychologists wet dream.
I owed a lot to that minor miscalculation, it'd gotten me my freedom. But that's not to say that it didn't come with its own set of struggles.
Primary emotions may have been a natural neurological response to most, but I hadn't been given the opportunity to properly exercise them.
Anger and fear were the worst of them.
I'd tried everything to overcome them; therapists, psychologists, doctors. But there was no escaping my own mind and I'd quickly realized that there was only one thing that could keep my emotions in check.
The goal.
Paradise.
Joy had quickly faded, leaving sadness and disgust which dulled as time went on.
But there were moments, moments like this morning that threatened to crack what I'd worked so hard to build.
The door had just clicked shut and my fingers turned the lock, locking her out as the bomb inside my mind detonated.
I threw my phone onto the counter - the ringing still loud as I turned the dial of the shower until the water was scalding hot.
But I stayed there, pacing back and forth in the bathroom as the walls slowly caved in.
My breathing was too fucking heavy and annoying in my own ears but I couldn't get it to fucking calm down.
"This." He stared down at me, using the lit cigarette between his fingers to point between us. "This is what they call love out there."
He dropped to his haunches and grabbed my face. I was certain he liked the sight of the water that leaked from my eyes. He'd called them tears. "Did you like it?"
I shook my head and he smiled, moving forward and placing a kiss atop the dirty dampened skin of my forehead. "Then there's no reason to want it."
And with that, he stood up, "I take care of you."
He adjusted the .45 caliber in his waistband. "I provide for you."
He turned away from me, "You belong to me and only me."And walked out of the room, flicking his cigarette onto the ground.
His cigarette that he never bothered to put out.
I reach behind me and dig my nails into the skin of my shoulder, while I force my mind somewhere else, anywhere else.
Fuck, I needed a cigarette-
"Nico?"
The sound echoed beyond the locked bathroom door, past the ringing of the phone and through the rainfall of the shower, unmistakably timid and sweet.
I thought I told her - in the nicest way possible - to leave me the fuck alone.
"I made breakfast downstairs." I wanted to be left the fuck alone. "I'm heading to the library now and I'll be at work till nine tonight." She was always so fucking soft spoken.
I didn't bother responding, the shower was on and as far as she knew, I was still in there.
"But...uh-" I focused on the sound of her voice. And as it grew quieter, I moved closer "If you would like to... erm-" she was skittish and nervous. I hadn't even said or done anything, yet.
I shut my eyes, the sound of her stuttering so damn loud in my head that I couldn't think. "I don't know... talk- no, scratch that-" She mumbles, and I straighten out, my hands dropping to my sides.
I had no idea what she was getting at, but it was entertaining.
"If you want to...yell at me and be mean to me... yes, that! Then you know where to find me."
I barely make out the pitter patter of her footsteps but I know she's gone and when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, it's not my bloody nails or chest glistening in sweat that has me pausing. It's the small smile that's spread out across my face.
"You even listening to me, stronzo?" I snap my eyes back to the road ahead of me and a honk sounds from the car behind me.(Italian | asshole)
I send the guy the finger and cut him off just as he turns to switch lanes. "If it's distractions we're talking about, we might as well lock her up with the little princess." I comment lightly, though, I'm feeling anything but calm.
"You're deflecting." He concludes, less than impressed. "Bottom line is, mixing pleasure with business only complicate things, trust me."
I roll my eyes and switch lanes, cutting off the person behind me once again, smiling as the guy begins to lay one out on me from his own car.
I didn't give a shit and I wasn't listening to a word Alessio was saying. Not all of us were as easily manipulated as him.
"What happens when push comes to shove and you hesitate?" He asks. "Attachments creep up on you at the worst times." He speaks, and I can detect the low warning in his tone.
Bambi was not only a liability to me, but a threat to him. He needed Rosso.
Rosso didn't get attached. He didn't allow for distractions, he didn't let something as meaningless as desire stray him the original goal.
But Nico did.
And I was fucking stumped.
I wanted Bambi in my bed. I wanted her on top of me. I wanted to have a go at her. So much so, that I did this morning.
I knew what I was doing, I wasn't asleep like I'd convinced myself I was. I was testing out the waters and counting on her pushing me away, but she didn't.
We were both on the same page and I threw away all my self control for a morning of PG-13 action.
It wasn't something I did, and to make matters worse, I almost came in my pants like a teenager who'd just seen his first pair of tits.
"Is there a reason for this call?" I drawl, rubbing at my jaw and turning into the freeway. I wasn't in the mood for socializing and his voice was pissing me off.
"You're throwing one of those parties tonight, yes?"
Fuck, I forgot about that.
"Yeah." I murmur distractedly, my mind going to the last time I had one of these parties.
"You still having an issue with your supplier?" He prods.
I hum in agreement before drawling my attention back to his voice, my eyes narrowing skeptically. "What about it." I didn't trust Alessio Galanti, I tolerated him.
"I'm sending over a few of my dealers. Maybe they'll convince you to take your business elsewhere."
I hum, knowing damn well I didn't want ties to the Italians. Especially not to a Galanti, but he would come in handy someday. The least I could do is humor him. "We'll see."
He sighs on the other end and I can feel him shaking his head, "If you're really that desperate to get your dick wet, try Jersey City. I'm sure Nico Blaine hasn't ran through there yet."
"Fuck you." I mumble, moving to hang up the phone and he chuckles, but he still gets three last words in before I hang up."Don't get attached."
His words were meaningless.
I didn't care about Josie Dumont. She was just a body warming my bed, a means to an end, someone I only wanted to fuck out of my system.
Yeah, I just wanted to fuck her out of my system.
Josie
Ghosts aren't real.
I cast a glance over my shoulder. The street stands still behind me, empty. The only movement being the flickering of street lamps, yet I still don't feel alone.
Picking up my pace, I round the corner and head towards the alleyway that cut my commute home in half.
I reach the threshold of the dark alley only stopping when my phone chimes with a message.
Not through there.
Unlike the last two I received this morning, this one isn't a riddle. It's a request, one that creeps out.
I turn my head and glance around me before looking back down to my phone screen.
Someone was playing a cruel joke on me.
Shaking my head, I walk into the alley, ignoring the message along with the man leaning against a dumpster who whistles and calls after me.
"A girl like you walking alone in the streets at this time?" He laughs and I force my legs to move faster. "I guess it's my lucky day-"
I stop at the sound of a loud pained groan and when I look over my shoulder, I catch sight of the man's body dropping to the ground.
It's dark and I'm too far from him to get a good look, but I see a hand on the man's ankle dragging him back, further into the darkness and fear paralyzed my body.
I turn and do the only thing I can think of. Run.
I run until I can't breathe, until I'm far away from the alley, until I'm dashing into the lobby of The Ossor - and into the elevator.
It's only when I'm certain I'm alone that I scan my keycard and hit the button for the sixtieth floor before taking out my inhaler to help regulate my rapid breathing.
I check my phone and my heart drops at the new message that only confirms what I'd been far too scared to think about.
What did I tell you?
I was being followed.
I needed to tell someone.
Nico.
No. For all I knew this could be him, or one of his goons.
The elevator doors open and I step into the foyer, my fear and weariness flushed by the sudden feeling of dread as loud music and chatter greets my ears.
Nico was throwing a party.
Only this time, there seems to be a lot more people, and when I step into the main living area, I'm certain the mass of people is some sort of fire hazard.
I glance around the room, desperately in search for the man who's responsible for all this, but I pause once I look towards a set of lounge chairs and spot Nico's group of friends from the last party.
The ones that'd made me feel so out of place and alone.
Zoe's sitting amongst them, leaning into the blond haired one - Man Bun. But it's not their close proximity that has me walking towards them, it's the pale pink sketchbook in Zoe's hands.
My old sketchbook.
The one I kept in my bedroom, the one I wrote and drew everything down in.
I creep up behind the group, and no one seems to notice me but I can't look away.
"Oh wait!" Zoe laughs, "Look at this one."
My heart drops as she proceeds to read the random notes I'd sketched down during my first few weeks here.
"What is a fuck?" She recites between giggles. "What is a slut?" The music fades and all I can hear is their laughing as Zoe continues. "What is rape?"
I can't seem to move. Humiliation bubbles inside me and I shrivel up.
"Oh, but it gets worse." She says, feigning a pout as she begins to do some sort of baby voice" 'people are meaner than I thought.'" She bursts out laughing, and throws her head back. "Who the fuck talks like that?"
Tears cloud my vision and my hands ball into fists as Man Bun grabs my sketchbook from her hands and flips through it.
"No fucking way." He chuckles, before turning the page around for the rest of the group to see. They all begin to laugh, "She's got more sketches of Blaine."
"What a fucking creep." Zoe comments and agreement breaks out amongst them.
I look towards the page my anger rising.
I wasn't drawing Nico like a creep. They were sketches, some of the random tattoos I'd seen on his skin and some I though matched them. I was building up a portfolio in hopes of getting a job at a tattoo shop.
I wipe at my tears and finally snap out of it to step forward and make my presence known.
They all quiet down, but I don't look at any of them as I walk forward and snatch my sketchbook from Man Bun's hands.
"Aren't you all a little too old to be playing these middle school games?" I spit calmly, my voice and demeanour unbothered.
"Aren't you a little old to be writing in a diary?" Zoe mocks back and they all silently laugh.
"It's not a diary." I say calmly, as my heart sinks and I start to crumble under their scrutiny. I didn't like being laughed at.
"You're all sitting at a party, hyper focused on me and my stuff. It's fucking lame." I spit, yet all they do is laugh.
"Look at you, using your big girl words." Man Bun teases.
I work up the strength to turn around and walk to my bedroom in one piece as their laughter echo behind me.
. . .
I balled my eyes out.
I didn't change from my work clothes, I didn't get ready for bed. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and wept, until the sadness morphed into rage and I could do nothing but rip out every single page of my sketchbook.
Now, I just wanted them gone. I wanted them all out.
Dumping all the ripped up pages in the trash, I turn and head out of my bedroom, pushing past all the people standing in my way.
Screw them all. I didn't care about what they had to say.
"They were bullies," Daniel would say. "All angry with their own pathetic lives and taking it out on me."
It's not long until I spot Nico's burly figure through the wall of windows, out near the railing on the far side of the terrace.
The night air is crisp against my skin as I slip out of the doors and the various hanging lights scattered around the place, make it look more like a spacious backyard than a terrace on the sixtieth floor of a penthouse in New York City.
No one else is around him and I storm towards him, prepared to make demands I know I have no right making, but I stop short once I realize that he is in fact, not alone.
No, there's a figure laying on the ground near his feet. And he's too busy wiping the blood from his shoes onto the man's clean dress shirt to look at me.
"What did he do?" I ask, my eyes falling to the mans chest in hopes of catching the rise and fall of it.
Nico merely shrugs and I try to normalize the sight of the man like this, but I can't. My stomach still turns, my heart patters and my fingers itch to do something.
"Is he dead?" I whisper.
"Not yet." The clanking of metal sounds and I look up to see a cigarette tucked between Nico's lips. His tattooed hand moves up to cup the end of the it, while he brings the flame of his lighter up to the end.
But his eyes are on me, narrowed on my face and I look away from his gaze, dropping it back to the unconscious man.
He was still alive.
I inch my legs forward, crouching down to get a better look at him. Maybe I could stitch him up and stop the bleeding. And then I could-
"Don't even think about it." He responds cooly.
I stand up and frown at him. "You can't just leave him for dead. It's not right-"
But he cuts me off. "Save your righteous bullshit for someone who'll give a fuck." He steps over the large body, nodding to something over my shoulder, and the next thing I know, he's being carried away by two men.
I turn my head and watch them, a protest on the tip of my tongue but I'm cut off by a grip on my chin as Nico turns my face back towards this. "Who made you cry." He doesn't ask, he demands emotionlessly as he glazes down at me, his eyes flickering across my cheeks.
I debate on lying but it'd only make it a bigger issue. "It doesn't matter."
His fingers flex against my chin. "Yes it does."
"No, it doesn't."
He shakes his head down at me, "You foolish girl." He murmurs.
The sound of music gets louder as more people file out onto the yard and I realize that the party's moving out here now.
But Nico's gaze stays glued to mine, his tongue running along his front teeth. "This is why being nice doesn't get you anywhere. You're practically a doormat to all of them."
I flinch at his harsh words but his hold on my chin keeps me in place, not allowing me to shy away.
"Dime." He demands, his tone absolute. (Spanish| Tell me)
I relent with a sigh. "Your friends."
He doesn't blink. "I don't have any." And for some reason that makes me feel a lot better. "You're gonna need to be more specific, Bambi."
I shift my gaze to the left, eyeing Zoe and Man Bun who are chatting with a group of people near the pool. "Please, just let it go."
Nico follows my eye, his jaw twitching in protest but he remains calm, his voice leveled. "Did you stand up for yourself?"
I don't look away from them, I simply deflate. "I tried."
It's only when he lets go of my chin, takes a step back and brings his cigarette back to his lips that I look up at him. "Try again."
I don't mask the confusion on my face, but he simply nods towards them, keeping his eyes on me. "Go on."
He's not taunting or poking fun at me, he's being serious.
I glance towards them once again, catching onto what he's hinting at and I shift nervously, eyeing the pool. "It's freezing and... and what if he can't swim?"
"Then he dies and makes my job easier."
I look up at Nico in horror, but he simply leans back against the balcony and leisurely smokes his cigarette, staring at me expectantly.
There was no way I was going to do what he wanted me to do.
Right?
But it's like my body has a mind of its own because before I know it, I'm walking through the crowd of people, towards Man Bun who's back is turned to me.
And without thinking, I place my hands on his back, dig my heels into the ground and shove as hard as I can until his large body stumbles into the below zero temperature pool.
My heart beats frantically, the adrenaline so loud and exhilarating that I move towards Zoe and do the same, marveling in the scream she lets out and I laugh as she takes Man Bun back down into the water.
Curses fly over the music and I stare down at Zoe and Man Bun. Their mouths are moving and their glares are aimed at me, but I'm too busy basking in the wave of immense satisfaction at the sight of them.
Laughter, murmurs and hoots break out, but I turn my head towards the back corner where Nico stands, the noise in my ears drowned out by the sight of him.
A sight that takes my breath away.
Not only is he smiling, but he's got his head thrown back, his eyes shut and his perfectly straight teeth on display as he laughs.
I can faintly hear it from where I'm standing and I lose myself in it. It's not a low taunting chuckle, or a dark humored scoff. It's a laugh.
Deep and rich, so perfect and throaty as his broad chest and muscular shoulders shake slightly.
He's so handsome it hurts.
"Someone grab that bitch!" Man Bun bellows from behind me and I realize he's gotten out of the pool and headed towards me.
I snap out of my stupor and slip through the crowd, dashing towards Nico, until I practically barrel into him.
I'm too preoccupied laughing to care, though and luckily, he steadies me, flicking his cigarette away and wrapping an arm around my waist.
His laugh winds down to a lazy grin and my stomach explodes with what I can only call butterflies as I memorize the sight of his smile.
His smile didn't change his ruggedly handsome face, it simply softened his eyes and made the apples of his cheek flush slightly.
"Feel better?" He asks, looking down at me.
I beam up at the man, ignoring the chatter behind us. "So much better."
"Yeah?" He breathes, his grin winding down to a sly little smirk.
I would feel bad in the morning. But right now, I was happy that I, Josie Dumont, did something cruel to another person and didn't hate it.
My laughter dies down and I graze my teeth across my bottom lip, staring up at him, coyly. "I don't feel bad about it." I admit.
"Look at you," He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, staring down at me, his smile gone but his eyes dancing with mirth. "A true delinquent."
I don't know who's to blame - perhaps both of us - but our bodies start to lean into each other. My head tips up, his dips down and I don't care about anything else.
My hands on his chest fist the material of his dress shirt, his moves into my hair, the rough pads of his fingertips skimming along the skin behind my ear and my gaze drops to his lips, mirroring his actions.
He's going to kiss me and I'm not going to stop him.
His lips move in, hovering over mine. His breath hot and mingling with mine. But just as his lips skim mine, chaos ensues.
A high pitched ringing sounds, people start to run, brushing past me, knocking my body to the side, away from Nico's.
I stumble, catching myself before I can fall, but my inhaler drops from my pocket and by the time I reach for it, it's too late.
It's crushed in the stampede of people who are hurrying out towards the staircase, trying to leave and I glance around, completely lost.
It's only when I feel a tug on my hand and look up to see Nico back as he drags me in the opposite direction of everyone else, that I realize what that blaring sound is.
The fire alarm.
We slip into the hallway that leads towards Nico's study and make it into his study, moving towards a large bookshelf on the wall.
A bookshelf that swings open after he punches in a key code on the wall and I realize that there's a secondary staircase in the building.
He immediately begins to descend the steps but I step out of his hold, shaking my head as panic rises in my chest.
"My inhaler broke." I explain, meeting his confused eyes with my horror filled ones. "I can't run down sixty flights of stairs without it." I breathe, my throat closing up. "I...I can't have another asthma attack."
He stares up at me in contemplation before cursing under his breath and charging back up towards me. "Fuck."
My throat closes as tears well in my eyes but I force the words out. "Just... just go without me."
He stops and stares up at me, a bored look on his face until he realizes I'm being serious. "Jesus, you're so fucking dramatic." He mumbles shaking his head.
Only before I can respond, he throws me over his shoulder and begins to descend the staircase at lighting speed.
I scream in surprise, my hands instinctively clutching onto his back. "A real pain in my ass." He mumbles.
I swallow down my emotion, ignoring him as guilt starts to eat away at me, "I'm sorry-" but I quickly cut myself off with a hiss of pain when he smacks my butt a little too hard.
"What is your obsession with that?" I call, my voice echoing in the narrow stairwell as we - well he - descends it. My guilt long forgotten.
"With what?" He asks, but he does it again, this time slipping his hand under the material of my skirt and onto the bare skin of my butt.
"That!" I shriek. "You keep, smacking my... my..." I search for the right word. "My ass."
He chuckles under his breath, his hand resting on my ass cheek and his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the lace of my underwear. "I'm warming you up."
My face heats at the intimacy of his actions. "Warming me up for what?"
He doesn't respond and before I know it, he's running through a set of doors.
The cool air nips at my exposed skin and Nico sets me down just as his phone rings and he turns to take the call.
I straighten out my skirt and turn away from him, my gaze shifting to the smoke pouring from a window on what seems to be the ninth floor.
People I recognize from the party exit a set of doors on the other side of the building, telling me that Nico was fast enough - with my weight - to get down here faster than any of them.
They push past me and I catch a part of their conversations as a shiver makes it's way down my spine.
"Great, party's over and it's only midnight."
𓆩❤︎𓆪
What do we think?
This is a stand-alone but let me give some of y'all some context to Nicos POV:
Alessio Galanti is the Don of the Italian Mafia and Giana Moretto is the daughter of a man in the Italian mafia.
They are both from my other story - Hideaway.
That's also a standalone.
You don't need to read that story before this one, Nicos character just makes an appearance and you get a teeny weeny bit of his backstory.
But all the confusion will be cleared up as the story progresses.
Also if you have any plot questions you want me to answer in the upcoming chapters, I'd love to hear them.
ALSO just an FYI I haven't forgotten about The Colony...
-
Anyways, Thank you all for reading. I can't believe how much support I'm getting for this story 😭 it genuinely brings me so much joy.
I love every single one of you❤️