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Maybe Sergei would come through. Or maybe the guy would return to The Loop. There were many ways this could end without Nico ever needing to see Bennett Verreault again. He should feel relieved. Verreault was a complication Nico didn’t need. They fucked. It was good. Now it was done. È finita. Repeating it would be a mistake, one Nico would never make.

So Verreault could keep his hard muscles, his pleas and whimpers, and save them for another man.

Nico’s phone buzzed. It was two texts from his eighty-five-year-old grandfather in Milano. They played an online chess game together every day and the old man was eager for Nico’s next move.

Nonno: Muoviti, nipotino! Che devo morire aspettando?

Hurry up, grandson! Do I have to die waiting?

Nico’s mouth hitched fondly. The old man was still as sharp as ever. He’d taught Nico to play chess after he retired as don, when Nico was still a boy. Their games were evenly split, with Nico maybe winning a few more. He opened the app they used to play together and studied Nonno’s last move: his black knight now threatening both Nico’s white queen and rook. Nonno was forcing Nico to make a choice, but they’d played this scenario before. Nico wasn’t fooled.

“You are still playing chess with the old man?” Filippo turned around in his seat, looking at Nico’s phone. “How do you never tire of this?”

“You should learn to respect your elders.” He let the rook go, knowing he would get Nonno’s knight in two moves. A short-term sacrifice for a long-term gain. It was one of his first lessons and one he still used in every aspect of his life, even today.

“Dai, I respect you,” Filippo said. “You are my elder.”

“Fuck off, I’m seven months older than you.” He texted Nonno, updating him on the chess game. Then they chatted back and forth, nothing too personal. Nothing illegal. Nonno asked when he was coming to visit and Nico hedged. He didn’t know when he could get back to Milano, but he knew he needed to go soon. Nonno wouldn’t live forever.

Filippo was looking at his phone as the car turned onto Nico’s street. “Could we get more hockey tickets from that manager guy?” he asked. “I have a date I want to bring.”

“No,” Nico snapped, annoyed at the topic of hockey being raised once again. “And you can afford your own tickets. Just buy them.”

“Yes, but the box tickets are fucking expensive.”

“Well, I’m not asking. And I can’t believe you want to go back. Those games are freezing.”

“Yes, I am aware. It is played on ice. But it was fun. I liked it.”

At the front gate, two guards waved them through and the car continued up the drive to Nico’s home. When the tires came to a stop, Nico got out and walked toward the stoop. Filippo lowered his window and hooked an arm over the car door. “You okay? Want me to come in with you? We could watch TV and drink beer.”

Nico didn’t want anyone around right now. He had enough swirling in his head. Waving his hand, he said, “Go home, cugino.”

Once inside, Nico disabled the security system, then removed his shoes and suit jacket. He was tired but thinking too much to fall asleep right away, so he took a beer from the refrigerator and made his way to the leather couch.

The glow of a cell phone caught his eye as he drew closer. Sofia was on the couch, buried under a blanket, scrolling on her phone. She glanced over. “Hey, Zio.”

“Ciao, bella. Mind if I sit?”

She moved her feet, angling up slightly, and he dropped himself onto the couch. “Did you have a good night?” she asked, putting her phone down.

He thought back to the sex, which had been the only highlight. “It wasn’t terrible. You?”

“Ava and I ordered Thai food and watched Love Island reruns. It was nice. She’s asleep upstairs.”

Nico took a sip of his beer. “But you couldn’t sleep?”

“My mind keeps spinning. It’s like I can’t turn it off.”

“Did you talk to your therapist?” Sofia had started seeing a therapist after her father died as a way of coping with the grief. Nico didn’t like the idea of personal family details being discussed with outsiders, but this was to help Sofia so he would never complain.

“We have an appointment tomorrow, but I already know what she’ll say. That I should use my relaxation techniques. Take a shower. Hot tea. Blah, blah, blah.”

“Allora, did you try any of those things tonight?”

“No. To be honest, I wanted ice cream. But we’re out of it.”

He took his phone out of his pocket. “What kind?”