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“Cool. So, how’d you get roped into the infamous Dutchess Valentine’s Gala?”
“Pops was fucking dreading it. I did him a solid.”
“Really?” J draws out the word, her tone bearing hints of skepticism. “So, you mean to tell me this little mother-son date night was just you stepping in for Mitch out of the goodness of your heart, and had absolutely nothing to do with a particular run-in you had earlier today?”
“Jesus Christ, J. The women in this family are like dogs with a bone when it comes to this topic today. I guarantee you whatever Ma told you, she embellished.” I pull into my neighborhood, praying Rico doesn’t have any late-night surprises waiting for me.
“Mom didn’t say anything.”
“Then where you getting your so-called info from?”
“Did you forget the other half of the encounter in question just so happens to be my best friend?” She laughs like the answer’s obvious.
My body goes rigid, my right hand gripping the shifter like my life depends on it.
“You talked to Daph today?”
“I talk to Daph every day.”
“And? What did she say?”
“That you ambushed her at the house earlier.”
“You realize she was at our parents’ house, right? It’s not like I camped out on her patio and bum rushed her when she came outside.”
“Are you home yet?” she snaps in annoyance.
“Yeah,” I answer just as I pull into my driveway.
My phone lights up in my lap, alerting me that J’s requesting to FaceTime. Parking the car, I swipe to accept and am met with an impressively arched brow.
“Careful, girl. That brow gets any higher and it’ll disappear into your hairline.”
“Shut up. Why you starting shit with her?”
“J—”
“Eh!” She holds up one finger, effectively silencing me. “Nicky, I love you. You are hands down the most important person on this planet to me. Which is why, instead of clawing your face off, I am asking you nicely to please leave her be. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you’re done playing these bullshit games and you’re ready to make it official.”
My heart feels like it skips a beat or two in my chest at the possibility of claiming Daphne publicly. However, the thrill it sends through my body is short-lived, leaving a deep-rooted pain throbbing behind my breastbone at the sheer thought of the size of the target I’d be hanging on her back.
I deal with the scum of the earth on a daily basis. Most of these motherfuckers would sell their left nut at the chance to take a shot at me. Daph would provide them the opportunity they’ve been all but too eager to seize.
“What is it with you and Ma that you’ve both suddenly forgotten about that walking douche she’s set to marry?”
“Ooo. Douche, huh? Does Lucian Devoreaux have Nicky C. a bit riled?”
“Ha!” I scoff. “Not in the fucking slightest.”
“Really? So, if I was to ask Rico to let them use his villa in Brazil for their honeymoon, that would be okay?”
I feel the tendons in my neck flex as I grit my teeth. “Fine by me.”
“Awesome.” She smiles wide. “I mean, he’d have to kill the video feed of all those cameras he has throughout the house. Unless you guys wanted a front row seat to Daph getting railed repeatedly by her new husband.”
