When Ren didn’t disappear into the ether like he usually did after he’d said more than a couple of words, Nico asked, “Was there something else?”
Ren scrubbed a dinner-plate-sized hand over his jaw. “You’re getting married tomorrow. You’re sure you don’t want to know what I found out when I background-checked your fiancée?”
Nico frowned at him. “No. I trust her.”
He grinned again, this time looking slightly less feral. But only slightly. “Good. ‘Cause I didn’t find shit. She’s a good girl. Which is why your real wedding present is that I wiped out all her debt and fixed her credit score. Hers is better than yours now. You’re welcome.” He slapped him on the shoulder. “Marry her quick before she changes her mind. God knows she’s too good for the likes of you.”
Ren was joking, of course. Nico heard it in his voice. The words still struck him like a punch to the gut. Because River was way too good for him. She deserved…everything. The world, the sun, anything her heart desired. Which is why he couldn’t force her to marry him. He needed to give her the choice, and accept her decision, whatever it might be.
And the keys to her freedom were now in his basement.
Fucking perfect.
Everything was so much easier when he could just be an unrepentant villain. This good guy bullshit was exhausting.
Chapter 26
Something was bothering Nico.
He didn’t say so during dinner (which included a Caprese salad with buffalo mozzarella, heirloom tomatoes, and basil that was nothing short of orgasmic). Didn’t say so while she was making inane small talk with Alexi and his people (all while the smarmy bastards flattered and praised her as if they hadn’t tried to sex traffic her, the rotten fuckers). And he didn’t say so when Tenley gave a lovely toast wishing them all the happiness in the world.
But she knew it all the same. He was vexed by something.
He kept looking at her like he was trying to memorize her features, as if he’d never see her again and he needed a mental picture, all with a furrowed brow like he had a question he was reluctant to ask. She had no clue what was going on in that entirely too pretty head of his.
But that was a question for later. For now, the only thing she knew for sure was that being escorted to the bathroom (like she just had been) made her feel like an un-potty-trained kindergartener, and she didn’t like it.
She wasn’t ungrateful, though. Having Enzo outside the door and Tenley in the stall next to her did make her feel safe in a sea of hostile Russian mafia men who would’ve used and abused her without a second thought if Nico hadn’t stepped in to rescue her. But still…no one had to walk Tenley anywhere. It was demoralizing.
Maybe after the wedding, she’d ask Tenley for some lessons in advanced badassery.
She was wrestling her snug-fitting dress back into place, doing her best not to grunt from the effort (seriously, did this count as her cardio workout for the day?) when she heard two of the Russian wives come into the bathroom and stop in front of the mirror.
She immediately recognized their voices. It was Alexi’s wife Stacia, and her pinched-faced friend Irina. Or was it Iliana? River wasn’t sure. She was terrible with names. Their faces were hard to forget, though. Their kind of beauty was simply unattainable outside the confines of an operating room in a high-end plastic surgery center.
“I still have no idea why a man like Nico Fortunado would choose to marry a plain little thing like her.”
River wasn’t terribly hurt. After all, it wasn’t like she’d never been called plain before. What really bugged her about Stacia’s words was the way she said Nico’s name. Like he was a decadent bite of tiramisu she was licking off her lower lip.
That really burned her biscuits.
“There’s no way it’s a real marriage,” what’s-her-name said. “I’m sure it’s somehow strategic. Why else would we all be here? It’s clearly for show. He’d never pick someone so…ordinary otherwise.”
True, River thought. Rude, but true. This took her back to her high school days when the pretty mean girls made fun of her thrifted clothes and the romance novels she was never without. Her mother had always told her those girls were just jealous of her, which was a load of crap. Cheerleaders were not jealous of bookworms with frizzy hair and vintage clothes.
“She needs to lay off the carbs, too,” Stacia added. “Lose at least twenty pounds before she even thinks about getting pregnant. You can just tell she’s the type who’ll balloon up and never lose the baby weight.”
What’s-her-name sighed. “Watering down that man’s genes with hers is a sin.”
That’s when it occurred to her that in this case, her mother was actually right. These women were jealous because she had something they wanted.
Nico.
There’d been a time not too long ago when she would’ve hidden in her stall until the mean girls left. Cowered and done anything to avoid an ugly confrontation.
But this was not that time.
Because the fiancée of a stupid-hot mafia boss would never cower. Someone like Tenley wouldn’t either.
