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Madonna mia. He dragged a hand down his face. “You should mind your own business, bella.”
Cradling her cup, she stared at the floor. “Zio,” she finally said. “You don’t need to put your life on hold for me because of what happened. I know this has turned everything upside down for you—me moving back in, the search for whoever drugged me—but I’m okay. Really. So, if you have someone in your life, then you should be with them. You don’t need to babysit me at the expense of your own happiness.”
“Dai, principessa.” He was across the kitchen in three steps, pulling her in for a hug. “Family comes first. We do not desert each other, capisce?” Easing back so he could see her face, he put his hands on her shoulders. “I will always look after you. And I am not suffering.”
“Are you sure? I feel like I’m cramping your style.”
“You are cramping nothing. You are always welcome here. You know that.”
“And I do. But I also know how hard you’ve been working on this. I feel badly.”
His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “You should not feel guilt. What happened to you was not your fault.”
“I know. I just keep thinking about what might have happened—” She blew out a harsh breath and stared at the ceiling. “Dr. Jane says we can’t dwell on the what-ifs and we need to live in the present.”
He let her go and returned to his cappuccino. “Va bene. Listen to Dr. Jane. She knows what she is talking about.”
“I’m trying.” She waited a beat, then said, “I think I’m ready to go back to school.”
“You do?”
“I do. I can’t hide here forever.”
“You have no reason to hide. This wasn’t your fault and unfortunately it has happened to too many people.”
She nodded, like she understood this. “What if I told people about it? Would you mind?”
“Why would I mind?”
She waved her hand to indicate him, the kitchen. “Because of this, who you are. The family. The rule about not talking to outsiders about personal matters.”
Normally, this was true. Yet Nico had talked about personal matters with Bennett Verreault at the rink and in the penthouse. He hadn’t talked that much with an outsider ever, and it wasn’t lost on Nico that his father never would’ve dared. Their world was insular for a reason, suspicious of anyone not in their small circle. This suspicion was what kept them alive.
But Sofia deserved peace. And if discussing this with friends made her feel safer, less alone, then how could he say no?
“I trust you, Sofia.”
“What if something comes up and I slip?”
“If you slip, it won’t be the end of the world.”
“Really?”
“Bella,” he said, sighing. He hated to repeat himself or have his decisions questioned, even with her.
“Okay, okay.”
Out of the corner of his eye, as he scrolled on his phone, he could see her watching him as she drank her cappuccino. Though she was quiet, he knew the topic of the cookie delivery was far from over. Nico could escape, go to his office while he waited on Filippo, but this was cowardly. And Nico was no coward.
“So.” She paused and he braced himself. “Did they like the cookies?”
How he hated being right sometimes.
Nico had a ridiculous urge to fidget—but he had nothing to be embarrassed about. It was not embarrassing that he’d watched hours and hours of video on Bennett Verreault, so many that Nico knew the man loved homemade chocolate chip cookies. And it was not embarrassing that Nico’s first thought upon seeing Sofia’s cookies last night had been to sneak some into Verreault’s apartment.
And it was definitely not embarrassing that their late-night text exchange sent Nico’s pulse racing.
Admit you like me and I’ll let you do it again.
