Page 71 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
“You’re involved whether you like it or not, stronzo. The real problem is, how’re we gonna handle Nero? If you ain’t giving up the ballerina—” Pa spies the venomous glare on my face and clears his throat. “We’ll need to find another way. We may need to reach out to our allies abroad.”
“The Sorvinos,” Carmelo says. “But wouldn’t that open up a whole other can of worms?”
“Probably. That’s a thought for a different day.” Pa lumbers over to his minibar as if he can’t help himself; he just has to pour another drink.
“Stay away from me. Stay away from Nevaeh,” I growl before I storm out of the office.
Pa and Carmelo can discuss their stupid plan to engage the Sorvinos among themselves. I have no interest in participating. Pa can’t be trusted, and neither can Carmelo. The Sorvinos from all the way in Sicily are no better.
But one thing is for sure: if what Pa says is true and there’s no avoiding this confrontation, I’ll fucking crush Nero and his men if they dare try anything else.
TWENTY-TWO
Caelian
“You’ll behappy to know I’ve thought about it.”
Curiosity unfolds on Nevaeh’s face. She tips her head back for a look up at me as I walk over to where she’s seated in the den and kiss her brow. She’s taken up crocheting thanks to Ms. Poitier, who’s been giving her lessons every few days.
As snowflakes flutter outside the window nearby, Nevaeh bathes in the warmth from the fireplace and crochets what resembles a scarf.
“Thought about what?”
“What is it you were wanting to do?”
A little smile brightens her face. “It’s snowing out tonight.”
“So what? We’ll be inside.” I flash the two tickets at her. “Grab your coat. And possibly the scarf you’re knitting.”
“Crocheting,” she giggles.
Within five minutes we’re being escorted to the car we’ll be taking by my men. Nevaeh hasn’t stopped beaming since she found out I’m taking her to see a show. We ride through the woody terrain surrounding my remote estate with little light except for the car’s high beams.
It takes us just under two hours to reach the Dresden Performing Arts Theater. I clutch Nevaeh’s hand tight as we pull into the valet driveway for premier guests.
“Are you sure you’ll behave yourself?”
“Do you really think I wouldn’t?” she quips.
I drag my fingers along her soft features. From her jawline to the curve of her bottom lip. “That’s exactly what I think—and I hope you don’t, so I have an excuse to punish you.”
Desire darkens in her eyes like the naughty angel she is. She leans into my touch and pokes her tongue out to tease the pad of my thumb. My groin gives a hard and threatening tug. If she keeps on like this, we’ll never make it inside the theater. We’ll be too busy in the back seat of this car.
Something I have no problem with, but sense Nevaeh would ultimately regret. She’s been wanting to spend a night at the theater since we married.
Tonight’s show is Mystere, a more recent musical that’s been penned and choreographed by one of Ignazio’s counterparts.
“Horatio,” Nevaeh says with a look of contempt. She clings to my muscly arm as we walk through the private entrance reserved for us.
“You say his name like it’s a dirty word.”
“His head’s larger than Ignazio’s, if you can believe it.”
“I’ve dealt with Ignazio. That seems like it would be impossible.”
“He wanted me for one of his shows. Thankfully, Ignazio refused to give me up.”
“Do you miss it? Performing with the company,” I say. We’ve settled into our seats in one of the prestigious gold-trimmed balconies.