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Nico’s voice, deep and laced with the familiar Italian lilts, settled in Bennett’s chest like warm honey, thick and satisfying. He had half a mind to instantly drop to Nico’s feet and get his dick out, but then he remembered all the texts and calls that had been ignored. “You’ve been ghosting me for almost six days. So yeah, I’m surprised.”

“Ghosting?”

“Ignoring. Disappearing on me.”

“Ah. I have heard this term. I was busy, bello.”

Busy. For six days. “Bullshit. You were ignoring me.”

“Is this—?” Then Nico’s mouth tightened, his lips pressing together as he seemed to rethink whatever he’d been about to say. “As I said, I have been busy. I won’t always be available to fuck you.”

A disbelieving huff escaped Bennett’s mouth and a bass drum throbbed behind his temples. “Oh, okay. I didn’t realize. Thanks for letting me know.”

“I detect a tone and I do not care for it, Bennett.” The words were careful, measured, exactly like Nico’s expression, and Bennett hated all of it. “Should I find a better use for that smart mouth?”

God, the absolute fucking balls on this man.

Suddenly too furious to sit, Bennett pushed to his feet, making sure to keep the weight off his bad knee as he faced the mob boss. “Sure. And while we’re at it, maybe we should come up with a schedule. Maybe it would be easier for you to fit me in that way.”

Nico put the cigar in a dish on the side table, then steepled his fingers, his demeanor calm and collected. “You are angry.”

“Wow. Ruthless, rich, and perceptive.”

“Sit down and rest your knee,” Nico ordered. “There is no need for you to be so dramatic.”

Bennett nearly laughed. Anger burned under his skin, through his veins, and made him lightheaded. Nico had the gall to order him around? To call Bennett dramatic? To not even bother explaining himself? Fuck this.

“Get out,” he said, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. “I’m too tired to talk to you right now.”

“Allora, I am confused. You want me to stay and fuck you, or you want me to get out?”

“You fucking asshole!”

“You are trying my patience, Bennett.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ve been trying mine all week. I texted you over and over again, trying to get answers about Alex. To make sure—” Nope. He wasn’t going to say anything more. Nico didn’t deserve it.

“To make sure I would still fuck you?” Nico guessed with an annoying smirk. “Don’t worry. What happened doesn’t change anything between us. As I said, I will still fuck you whenever I want, capisce?”

“To make sure you were okay, you dick!” The words escaped before Bennett could stop them—and they seemed to surprise Nico, who blinked rapidly for several seconds.

“You were worried about me?”

God, why had he said anything? Bennett clenched his hands into fists and strode away, heading anywhere but here. He ended up in the kitchen. There, at least he would have something to do, a menial task to focus on besides Nico. Pulling out turkey, cheese, and lettuce, he decided to make a sandwich. As he slid a ciabatta roll into the toaster, he heard Nico lower himself onto a barstool.

“Bennett, turn around.”

Bennett gripped the marble counter, trying to resist the command. But his body was too well-trained to the forceful tone, too eager to comply with this man’s demands.

He turned.

Nico’s gaze studied Bennett’s face intensely. “Why the fuck were you worried about me?”

No way would Bennett answer that. It would give too much away, reveal feelings that were clearly one-sided. He needed to accept this as purely sexual, nothing more, and shut up about it.

He whipped off his shirt and tossed it onto the counter. “Come on. Let’s go to the bedroom and fuck.”

Nico held up a hand. “In a moment. As soon as you answer my question.”