Valentino

Nero is lying across the sofa on his stomach, watching another home renovation show. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, so the bandages are visible on his back.

There’s a part of me that’s surprised he’s still here. I half-expected him to disappear—then to turn around one day and find myself at the gates of hell. Briar certainly was not kind when they’d sent messages to me about how I’d let “that assassin” wander the house while I’d been gone.

“How far over budget are they so far?” I ask by way of greeting as I take off my suit jacket and hang it up in the hallway closet.

“Only five grand so far,” Nero says. “They found a leak in the basement plumbing that had to get fixed or else the entire foundation would crumble.”

“They’ll find at least another twenty k worth of necessary repairs,” I predict. “As a result of how many years the leak’s been there.” I go to sit next to him, and without thinking about it, I run a hand through his soft hair. “Chased Briar off, I see.”

Nero leans into my touch. “Yeah, well, I don’t need one of your other conquests hovering around me,” he mumbles.

“Conquests.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t conquer the help.” I chuckle, able to picture Briar’s mouth opening in an ‘o’ of indignation at being called the help. “I haven’t had more than a quick fuck in at least five years.”

Why am I telling Nero this? It’s none of his business, and it’s more information he can use against me.

“What about you?” I ask before he can press. “Do you always fuck your marks?”

“Just one time.” Nero cranes his head to look up at me. “Funny enough, most people I’m hired to kill just aren’t into twinks.” He laughs, even though it’s somewhat humorless, and I hate how cute he looks even with a brittle smile. “The guy was so fucking confused when I pulled the gun out and shoved it in his mouth. It wasn’t like he was willing to use his mouth for other things.”

“Hmm. Would you have let him blow you before you killed him, little cub?” I ask. He’s a little sociopath, all right, and I’m wondering just how far that goes. No wonder Briar didn’t want to stick around.

Nero purses his lips thoughtfully. “I dunno. I was already running late, and I wasn’t convinced he’d have been any good. It was just the easiest way to get close to him. Maybe if I’d known you were into the cute boys, I’d have seduced you too, Daddy.”

“Good thing I don’t let cute boys seduce me on a regular basis,” I say, and while I mean for the words to come out dry, they come out strained instead. Because this is a total fuck-up, and I know it.

“Yeah, well, if you had, my back wouldn’t be killing me like this.” Nero turns his attention back to the TV. “You have fun with your friends today? Sell lots of guns? Kill a few guys?”

“Just one,” I say, settling down next to him on the couch. “I’d offer to tell you about it, but I don’t think it’s gory enough for your liking. I didn’t even get any blood on my suit.”

“Hey, I usually don’t get blood on myself either.” Nero makes a finger gun gesture with one hand. “9 times out of 10 the target doesn’t even see me before I get them right between the eyes.”

“What happens when they do see you?” I ask, finding myself curious.

“Uh, they end up dead? Keep up, Daddy, I’m an assassin.” Nero sighs and props himself up on his elbows. He grits his teeth and sits up the rest of the way, although he keeps his back away from the couch.

“No one’s perfect a hundred percent of the time,” I say, thinking about what Cresci had said about Corbin. I don’t want to ruin the conversation by bringing him up, but I need to know more. I take a deep breath, then go on, “Nero… I have questions. They’re questions you probably won’t want to answer, but we can’t solve this whole mess unless you do.”

Nero reaches for the remote and presses buttons to change the episode. “I’ve seen this one before. There’s a show with international homes that’s more interesting anyway. The British ones don’t even help fund any of the reno. They just watch the homeowners dig themselves into deeper and deeper holes.”

I sigh. I should’ve expected the diversion, and I did, really, but now I’m not sure how to proceed. “I need you to tell me about Corbin,” I say quietly, touching his hand atop the remote.

I feel him tense, but I wait patiently for his response.

I don’t expect Nero to drop the remote and scoot closer to me, and it’s my turn to tense. He runs a hand along my jaw, using his thumb to disrupt the bristles of my beard, before he leans in closer to kiss me.

“You could fuck me now,” Nero says quietly. “I’ll ride you, Daddy. No need to worry about hurting my back. I really want to feel your thick cock split me open.”

“Do you really think that’s going to work?” I press our lips together anyway, stroking his cheek. He’d said he didn’t want to have to go back to Corbin. As long as he’s laying low—as long as he’s having to hide out here—he doesn’t have to go back. Does he even want to figure out who tried to kill us?

Nero opens his mouth for me and climbs onto my lap, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. It would be so easy to give into this, to forget my questions and just play with this beautiful boy in my arms.

But when I place my hands on his sides, I’m reminded of the state of his back and why he’s even here in the first place. I break the kiss and give him a stern glare. “No. Answer my question.”

Nero rolls his eyes and sighs. “Take a hint, Daddy. We aren’t at the sharing-social-security-numbers stage of a relationship yet.”

Yet.

The word sends a funny little tingle through me, but I ignore it. “I thought we were in the ‘figure out how to survive and find out who tried to kill us’ stage, though, which comes with its own set of uncomfortable questions, Nero.”

“Who tried to kill you. I was collateral damage.” Nero sits a bit heavier in my lap. “You want my thoughts? If it wasn’t the Russians or the Winters, you’re probably looking at someone within your own organization. The mob is rife with backstabbing traitors. It was just a matter of time before you pissed off the wrong person.”

What he says makes sense, but the problem is that I can’t figure out who I’ve pissed off that much lately. Maybe the fact that my relationship with the Russians is improving means I’m in someone’s way, though. “Is that why you work alone? No one to stab you in the back?”

“Exactly. Plus, in the event I go down in a messy explosion, nobody’s going to be around to miss me. It’s better for everyone, really.”

No, it’s not. Even I have a family—the Cresci family, maybe, but people I can count on to have my back. Unless I can’t. Unless Nero is right. Unless it wasn’t Dan responsible for the whole thing.

Nero sets his stubborn gaze on me. “Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”

I want to fuck him. I want to taste him, to feel him, but I still can’t shake the conflicting emotions about causing him to bleed without even realizing it. It’s one thing to make someone bleed—when I mean to—but it’s another entirely for it to happen because I was careless.

I’m not usually careless.

But he’s so fragile in some ways, and if I refuse to have sex with him, there’s a chance he’ll get defensive and distant again. “When your back is healed a little more,” I tell him. “In the meantime, you need to get back on your stomach and stop agitating those stitches before you tear them again.”

“Ugh.” Nero slumps forward, pressing his head against my shoulder. “Bedrest is so fucking boring. You’re the worst date ever, Daddy.”

“We aren’t even on a date,” I point out, stroking his hair again. “You can’t judge me for my dating skills right now.” Though it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that I probably am a pretty shitty date.

Nero’s fingers pull on my shirt—not trying to pull it off, but clinging to me. I don’t know what to make of it, and I awkwardly keep running my fingers through his hair. I like it, oddly, that he’s clutching me for comfort. No one runs to me to make them feel better.

Finally Nero pulls back, a strange smirk on his face. “That sounds like an invitation. I want to go to the Van Geersdorf Gallery. They have a new exhibit on modern art. Plus a high-class restaurant after that. If you treat me right, I might put out.”

I blink at him, unsure how we went from me trying to gently reject his advances to somehow having to take him on a date. “We don’t have time to go on a date,” I tell him. “After this whole fiasco… We’ll see.”

“I see.” Nero lets go of me and gets off my lap, walking toward the kitchen island. “Have fun figuring all that other stuff out on your own, then.”

I blink at him, following him into the kitchen. “Are you… blackmailing me into a date with you?” I ask, just to make sure I’m getting this right.

“Out of deference to your delicate sensibilities about my minor injuries, I’m willing to wait a few days,” Nero says, reaching up to take a cup from one of the cabinets. I wince when I see how his bandaged back bends. “But otherwise, yeah. If you want something from me, you gotta treat me right. Daddy.” He takes the cup to the fridge to fill it with water, eyeing me the entire time as the cup fills.

“Have I not been treating you right? You seemed to enjoy the way I spanked your hole,” I reply, going to him and taking the cup out of his hand. “You go sit down. Are you hungry?”

Nero groans softly. “Yeah, you did. But then you didn’t put out, and I don’t think blue-balling me counts as treating me nice.” He heads to one of the bar stools and sits down, making a show of wiggling his butt. “The bruises are even starting to fade. You barely used any force.”

“It’s never enough for the fucking masochists,” I grumble, bringing the now-full cup over to him. “But fine. I’ll take you on a date after the doctor says you’re cleared for walking around for a while. I don’t need someone calling the cops in the middle of a fucking museum.”

Nero laughs, and that sound goes straight to my fucking heart. “Thank you, Daddy,” he says, blowing a kiss at me.

Yep. Straight to my heart.

And dick.

I’m fucking screwed.