Page 42 of Made in Love and Blood

“I told you he was coming. I literally said that five minutes ago!”

The two glared at one another.

Nico just cleared his throat and waited.

“You’re a dirty prick,” she tossed at Sal on her way past the desk.

Nico stepped aside to let his sister pass without comment.

“Please, that’s fucking foreplay for you,” Salvatore said under his breath. “Crazy bitch.”

The man in the chair acted as if he hadn’t said a thing and gestured toward the seating area of the study. Nico found his way into a chair as Salvatore came over and did the same with the loveseat. He placed three folders onto the glass coffee table between them, and produced a few items from his pocket, laying them on the folders.

A phone. Nico’s keys. Cards. Bank and credit. His IDs.

A gun.

Nico met Salvatore’s eyes when he said, “You know, you were the only made man I knew growing up that never carried a gun.”

He always wanted to know why.

“I thought it was because you were the most dangerous one of them all for a while. Like you were their worst nightmare on a good day, and you didn’t even need one,” Nico admitted.

It earned him soft laughter from Salvatore.

“Truth is,” Salvatore replied, “in a way, I am. I can be their worst nightmare. You have to be all of that and more, or you’re just fodder to a bigger plan.”

Nico understood.

Kind of.

“I don’t make that mistake anymore,” Salvatore added after a moment. “Not carrying a gun, I mean.”

“When did that change?”

“I’ll answer that question if you’re honest about everything we’re going to discuss regarding what’s in those folders,” Salvatore told him, pointing toward the table. “Deal?”

“This again?”

“Deal?”

Nico’s gaze dropped to the folders, but also the things. It had been almost two months since he even looked at Google. Not to mention, the five hundred dollars he kept hidden in a large cross necklace just in case had come in handy to buy smokes or put gas in his Ducati. Salvatore let him leave the property and ride occasionally, but no one asked how he made it possible. Or why he always had a pack of cigarettes, for that matter.

Also, he just didn’t have a life right now. Nico might take up DIYing in the next week if he didn’t get something to fucking do, and soon.

“Deal,” he said finally.

Salvatore nodded. Leaning forward, he picked up the first folder and the cards and ID on top. “First, the Secret Service, and your father, have released your accounts. Now, here’s the caveat and some things we need to talk about.”

Nico chewed on his bottom lip, suspicion itching. “Uh-huh.”

“Giorgio took back control of your stipend from the trust, and filed new directives that you should only gain access again at twenty-five or immediately upon his death.”

Nico scoffed, falling back into the chair. “That’s fine. I used the trust to pay my speeding fines and uni. To him, that’s what I really want. The money. What a joke. So can you just destroy the card for that, then?”

“I will,” Salvatore agreed. “The trustee will contact you upon your twenty-fifth birthday—”

“Or when the asshole dies, got it.”