Nic shook his head. “I know you don’t.”
Edging away from him until our bodies were no longer touching, I steeled myself and regarded him coolly. When I spoke again, I said the words as slowly and as clearly as I could so he would understand I knew more than he thought I did, and that I didn’t need to be protected from it.
“I guess it must be a Mafia thing.”
The silence that followed was resounding. Nic reacted like I had hit him; his chest was rising and falling unsteadily, his mouth twitching uncertainly. I watched him carefully, keeping my expression blank.
“What do you mean?” he said at last, but the words barely made a sound.
I kept my voice steady. “I think you know what I mean.”
He glanced over his shoulder, like he was afraid someone was going to jump out of the bushes. He turned his gaze to the grass beside me. A click of his jaw and then — “I don’t.”
“The Angel-maker.” It was a statement, not a question, and it made the balmy summer air seem colder once I’d said it.
He blinked hard. It had wounded him like I knew it would, and I instantly regretted it.
“So it’s true, then?” I asked, fearing and yet needing to hear him say it. “Your family is part of the Mafia?”
He plucked a long, thin blade of grass and tried to split it in two. “I do not deny it.”
A familiar wave of nausea rose in my stomach, but it was weaker this time. I had come to terms with most of my horror before falling asleep, and now, his confirmation of something I already knew was more like a dull punch in the gut.
When I didn’t answer him he grabbed my hand with violent speed, like he was afraid he had lost me in that one quiet moment. I left my hand in his and pressed on, as carefully as I could.
“Does Felice tell you to hurt people? Do you answer to him the way you answer to Luca?”
“Of course not.” He seemed affronted by the implication, and I was glad of that. If he didn’t answer to “the boss,” then he must not be involved in the things his father was accused of.
“What does it mean,” I asked, “for you and your brothers to be part of the Mafia?”
Nic hesitated, and I could see he was trying to formulate his answer. “Infamy.”
“And notoriety?” I remembered the article and shivered.
“Yes,” he said plainly, like it didn’t bother him the way it would bother me. “From birth we are stamped with our family’s reputation, named after bosses from past generations, and raised with a strong sense of loyalty and honor …” He trailed off.
“Do you hurt people?”
He ran his hand through his hair until it hung loosely around his eyes, shielding them. “It’s not like that.”
“What is it like?”
Nic took both my hands in his. “Sophie, there’s a lot I can’t say to you. I’ve taken a serious vow, and to break it would mean violating a code of silence upheld by every member of my family. But if you can trust nothing else, trust this: I am a good person, with good morals. My brothers and I are loyal, to the death. We have been raised with an understanding of right and wrong. We protect and serve our mother so that she may be happy every day of her life, we mourn the death of our father, and we attend church every Sunday to pray for his soul. I want to protect those I love and those who cannot protect themselves. But most of all, I want to make the world a better place by being in it.”
I felt a surge of relief. I didn’t know what I had been expecting him to say, but this was so much better.
“You were born into your way of life,” I said, almost as if I were speaking to myself, “but that doesn’t mean you are part of it.” Nic inhaled like he was about to say something, but then he stopped himself. “We are both living in the shadows of our fathers,” I said, realizing for the first time that it was true.
“I would never hurt you,” he said quietly.
“I know.” I laced my fingers through his. I had seen those hands hurt Alex, I had seen purple bruises along the knuckles, but I had to believe it was different with me. I studied our fingers, his olive skin against the paleness of mine, his grip sure and strong. It felt different. It felt right.
For a while, neither of us said anything. A lot of bandages had been ripped off our psychic wounds and we were both weary with emotion.
“Do you know why I can’t be with you?” Nic said at last. “I want you to know that it’s not my choice to walk away.”
I was starting to understand that. “When Luca found out who I was it changed everything, didn’t it?”
“What’s in a name, right?” Nic’s expression turned rueful. “It’s not a good idea, our being together. Not with what’s happened. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to you.”
“Am I in danger? They warned me about that …” I thought of my uncle, and I understood his concern. A Mafia family moves up the street from the family responsible for their boss’s death. I inhaled sharply.
“Jack warned you?” The faintest undertone of animosity tinged Nic’s words.
“And my father.”
“You’re not in danger.” He tried to sound casual, but there was something new creeping into his voice now, straining it. “But we think it’s best that you’re kept far away from us and some of the more … unhinged members of our family … at least for the time being.”
Nic fell quiet again. He moved his hands to my arms and began to rub them. I hadn’t even realized I was cold until I felt the warmth in his touch.
“Should I be scared?” I asked.
“You don’t have to be scared of anything,” he said quietly.
I smiled weakly. I was scared of losing him, but I couldn’t say so. It wouldn’t do any good.
He flicked his gaze to my lips. “If I knew that night would be the last time I got to kiss you, I wouldn’t have stopped.”