Page 89 of The Cost of Silence

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I whisper.

He kisses my shoulder, a slow drag of lips that forces every muscle in me to melt. “I’ll allow it.”

I roll my eyes and escape, finding my hoodie tossed over a chair. When I come back, he’s sitting against the headboard, shirtless, hair mussed, looking like sin and Christmas warmth had a baby together.

It hits me again, the surreal way he makes me fit into his space. Like we’re not temporary. Like we’re not some doomed timeline.

And that’s the exact moment the guilt hits. Because it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow and I haven’t spoken to my mother yet.

I hover awkwardly near the bed and he watches me, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie, then immediately fold. “Okay, something. It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow. I usually go see my mom. She’s… she’s been alone a lot these last few years. I always spend Thanksgiving with her.”

He absorbs that quietly. “Call her.”

“I will. I just…” I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know how to explain that I’ve been living with you.”

His eyes sharpen, a warning. “Why would you need to explain anything? You stayed because you’re safe with me.”

“She’s my mother, Nico. She’s going to be worried, especially after the article I wrote on you and the fire, and she doesn’t know what really happened. Last she knew, you and your brothers were the enemy and now I’m sleeping with you.”

His lips twitch at that. “Not much sleeping last night, baby.”

“Nico, I’m serious.”

He considers that. His jaw works, then settles. “Tell her the truth.”

My heart stutters. “The truth?”

“That you’re safe. That I’m not letting anything happen to you. That we’re definitely not enemies.” His voice drops, all quiet promise and iron. “That you’re mine.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Nico…”

He pats the bed. “Come here.”

I do, because of course I do. He pulls me between his legs, wraps those huge arms around me, and rests his chin on my shoulder.

“You’re not going there alone.”

I blink. “What?”

“You think I’m letting you walk into a house with an unknown threat on the loose? No. I go with you.”

I try to picture introducing Nico Mancini to my mother over turkey and mashed potatoes and nearly choke. “She’s going to think we’re… together.”

“We are,” he says simply.

My stomach does a somersault. “We are…fling-ing.Casual. No future. Remember?”

His lips graze my neck. “I lied.”

The room tilts.

Before I can respond, he continues, calmly, with zero shame. “Invite her here for Thanksgiving. Adi, Matteo, and Letty will be here. It will make security easier. She can see we aren’t the big bad wolf, ready to eat her daughter.” He waggles his eyebrows at that and I smile. “We’ll do it right.”

I stare. “You want my mom at your family’s Thanksgiving?”

He meets my gaze steadily. “She’s part of you. That makes her part of this.”