Page 189 of Made in Love and Blood

Salvator swallowed hard, lifting his gaze from the floor to meet Nico’s. “It’s been in the works for months. This plan of mine. It’ll happen after Christmas. The only reason I’m telling you this is because you’ve played an important part in getting us to this point considering you’ve done everything I asked when I asked you to do it. You brought me information without being asked; you’ve done everything that was asked. I know who I can trust, and exactly why I can trust them. History taught me well. I’m going to kill your father.”

•••

Unlike when the Gallos threw a party, Giorgio did not stand for the first couple of hours at the entry of his home welcoming guests. No, he rested at the head of an ostentatiously large table in the dining hall just beyond the entry to the grand foyer. That way, the guests walked through the decorated entry and hallway leading to the boss and his waiting family where he wanted to be greeted.

Frankie peered around, unconcerned with the strangers and some familiar faces moving about them, as Nico checked in his heavy overcoat and her fur shawl at the coat room. The quiet teenager, maybe fourteen if that, took the items with a tentative smile but she didn’t meet his eyes as she handed over the tag with the appropriate number to collect the items on the way out.

“Tall tree,” Frankie noted of the Christmas fur in the entry.

It stood at least twenty feet high. Decorated in only red and gold, just the way Giorgio liked. Some shit never changed.

“Why does this look so familiar?” she asked as if to herself.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nico returned, following a step or so behind Salvatore.

“Even the marble...”

Oddly familiar.

“That’s because when I made the order for a hundred slabs of Calcutta marble for Carina’s closet,” Salvatore told them over his shoulder, “someone else decided I should add an extra three hundred slabs onto the order for him so he could similarly replicate my entry that he liked so much.”

Frankie looked at Nico who just huh’d under his breath.

“Guess who also paid for it?” Salvatore asked.

He clearly didn’t mean for them to answer, so they didn’t.

“That’s kinda fucked,” Nico murmured in Frankie’s ear.

Her expression said the same.

“How often does things like that happen, Daddy?” Frankie asked.

“More than I want to discuss,” Salvatore grumbled. “And so, we won’t.”

The closer the three came to the dining hall, the more Nico noticed the stares and whispering. It couldn’t be helped that people noticed him, given the house belonged to his father and he happened to be the son that didn’t get shown off as the pride and joy of the Russo family. Not that he minded. He just didn’t realize how it would feel to be stared at and whispered about when he was something more than the problem kept hidden away.

“You okay?” Frankie asked Nico.

He winked down at her. “Great, babe.”

She didn’t need to know the difference.

Reaching up to wipe a piece of fuzz from his lapel, he heard the first comment of what would likely be many over the evening. “Is that an engagement ring?” someone hissed.

Frankie didn’t appear to hear the comment, or another one that soon followed when she reached up to playfully pat the side of Nico’s grinning cheek.

“Love you,” she told him.

“Love you,” he said back.

Nico wrapped his arm tighter around Frankie’s waist, yanking her closer. He had to remind himself not to touch his son which ended up being harder than he thought. A second nature to him now. He constantly sought the spot where she carried their child because it gave him comfort and perspective when he needed it most. She didn’t seem to mind that he pulled her into him, so much so they were practically wrapped up in one another. She just smiled sweetly when he pressed a kiss to her temple while her hand rested against the center of his chest.

“You know, you still haven’t given me an idea of what to get you for Christmas.”

He had time, so he would keep pestering her. Giorgio didn’t usually have his holiday party until New Years, but he opted for an earlier party this year, with less than two weeks to go until Christmas.

“Seriously,” Nico repeated, “what do you want?”