Niccolò's POV.

(I listen to Ed Sheeran when I write his POV and idk why bc Ed Sheeran is a sweetheart and Nic is a prick.)

"Give a little time to me or burn this out,"
~ Give Me Love, Ed Sheeran

*****

Marino took a long, slow drag of his cigarette and blew it out into the night air.

"Thought you were trying to quit," I drawled sarcastically in our native tongue, sitting onto the steps next to him.

He snorted. "I was. Fuck it."

I lit up my own cigarette and inhaled the toxins. Why were the bad things so addictive? Marino looked at me, his eyes squinting. It was something he did when he was thinking. I sighed heavily, already knowing what was on his mind. He'd questioned me about it a million times already, and I understood his apprehension, but it was getting annoying. I was over it.

"You sure you up for this, Nic?"

I blew out the smoke. "Look, we're doing everything else the same. Only difference is she doesn't die yet."

He shook his head. "It was your idea, boss. You were the one who wanted—"

"I know that. I changed my mind."

"People are looking at you, Nic. Everyone is looking at you. You're this close to getting your revenge. He loves that girl. You want to break his heart? You kill her."

"She'll die," I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Just not yet."

"The sooner the better. You know we cannot trust her."

"Her death isn't the only way to go about this."

"Look, I get it." He put out the cigarette and turned to look at me, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing. "She's a gorgeous woman. And I got to know her a little bit while you were in Italy, and I get it. She's...she's something. But you can't get attached. You cannot fall for this girl, Niccolò."

I slapped his hand away and stood up. "I'm not fucking falling for her."

"Whatever the case may be." He stood up too and followed me down the path towards my car. "We had a plan. Roman falls for her, and then we take her away from him. We kill her. You kill her. That was it, Nic."

"I don't want her dead yet. Alright? It's my goddamned decision."

"So what are you going to do, huh?" We reached my car. I went to open my door, but he slammed it back shut. "Take her with us? Split the fucking money with her? Don't fuck this up, Nic. She can't have the money. Bitch will ruin—"

In an instant, my cigarette was on the floor and I had him pressed against the door, my forearm against his throat. "You telling me what to do now?"

He tried to reply, but I pressed harder, cutting off his airway.

"I know what the fuck I'm doing. Don't question me again." I let him go. He bent over, coughing. Ignoring him, I climbed into my car, started it up, and drove off.

I was pissed and I had no idea why.

*****

"Niccolò!" She looked surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Come in. You want coffee?" Erina stepped aside and let me in. She led me to her kitchen and told me to sit, then looked me over. "Maybe something stronger?"

I ran my hand down my face. "Bourbon."

"Coming right up." I watched as she turned and bent over, going into a cabinet where she kept all her alcohol. My eyes were glued to her ass,. She really had a nice ass. I cleared my throat and looked away before she could catch me staring.

I was always infatuated with Erina. She was a gorgeous woman with a great body. But looks aside, it was her personality I alway admired. She was strong, and smart, and fierce. I had great respect for her. And I knew she'd tell me what I needed to hear, even if I didn't like it.

A glass was placed in front of me and I downed its contents immediately. She refilled it.

"What's on your mind?"

"Sorry for just dropping in. Where's your fiancé?"

"Upstairs, asleep. I couldn't." She waved her hand dismissively. "Tell me what's going on, Nico."

"It's Neila."

She raised an eyebrow. "The whore?"

I picked up the glass. "I don't love her."

She put down the bottle and stared at me for a minute before crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't say you did."

"Marino thinks I do."

"Marino knows you better than anyone. Better than I do, and that's saying something." She leans against the bar table. "Are you maybe worried he's right?"

"He's not. I'm...I'm attracted to her, I can't deny that. And, yes, maybe I even care about the bitch but—" I shook my head and took a gulp. "Marino wants me to go through with killing her."

"And you can't."

"I can." I look at her. "I just...don't want to. Yet. I will eventually, I have to but—"

She sighed and went back to the cupboard, pulling out another glass. My lips twitched when she filled it and took a sip.

"Why does Marino want her dead?"

"It's not about her. It's Petrov."

Her head raised, but she didn't say anything. "He loves her."

Another gulp. "He loves her."

"When Marino told me that's what you were going to do, I didn't see how it would work. Roman Petrov is many things, but stupid? You're telling me he didn't look into her? He's a caution man. No doubt taking after his father in that sense."

My jaw locked.

"She's a nobody. There's nothing to look into. You don't know how deep I had to dig to get what I have on her. She didn't exist until I came in."

"What about the American she was with?"

I rolled my eyes. Christopher Meere was a gnat. He was not important enough to be on Petrov's radar. He doesn't deal in domestic affairs. That's not the point. I don't know what to do."

"Well, Nic, think for a minute. What do you think is going to happen? What will you do if you don't kill her right away?"

"I...I could keep her, right? She may come handy again. Or—"

"Keep her?" Erina's eyebrows lifted. "You told me last time someone tried to keep her, she slid a knife into him plenty times. And with you...at least she thinks she's getting something out of it. But if you try to hold her prisoner again? I don't see it going well."

"Then what? Let her go? She has connections, Erina. I don't know how deep this goes."

"You know I don't care much for the girl," Erina snorted. "But you know the situation. Assess it. Do what is best. You don't know this girl."

The problem wasn't that I didn't know her. It was that she didn't know me.

Neila thought that because I'd refrained from killing her, she was okay. She got this false sense of security. Believed that me refusing to end her life was because I was patient or merciful. Believed that because I'd fucked her a handful of times, I'd grown to attached to want her dead.

I sighed.

I guess that was true.

"I won't kill her."

Erina nodded slowly, accepting my answer.

I closed my eyes, and pictured her. Pictured Neila. Her hair, her body, her smile. Her voice.

"So what will you do?"

Good fucking question.

I still had no goddamn idea.

But I knew who I needed to talk to next.

*****

"Why are you calling? Is she hurt? Is she..." there was a pause. "Is she—"

"She's alive, Tyler, you can relax. How's life going for you, old friend?"

"Friend?" He scoffed.

"I'm not a fan of animosity, you know. I'll give you a pass because I killed your boyfriend but really, that sob story's getting old."

Another pause. "If she's okay, why are you calling me?"

I hesitated in answering. I didn't exactly have an answer for that.

"I have some questions. About her. Blanks to fill."

"Ask them so I can get back to my life, please."

I inhaled. "Tell me about her."

"What?"

"How did you meet?" When he didn't reply, I sighed heavily and continued. "Just humor me, and I will let you get back to your sad life."

Tyler exhaled. "We, uh...well, me—I'd been with Christopher for a while. Long enough to know how he operates. I knew what to do, what not to do, etcetera. He didn't do much besides traffic women—"

"Why were you with him?"

"It has nothing to do with Neila, so I'm going to not answer that. Anyway, I'd pissed him off. I don't even remember what I did. He was always pissed. I hadn't eaten for a day or two. So when I heard the door unlock, I thought it was Alfred with food."

The image of the greasy man I'd killed flashed in my head. He was a creep.

"It was Alfred but...he didn't have food. He threw her inside. She fell, hit her knee. He looked at me, and told me that she was my responsibility. If she didn't act accordingly, I would be held responsible. Well, you know how she is. I went a lot of nights without eating. We didn't really talk at first. She just kept screaming and yelling or sleeping. She never really cried."

I lit up another cigarette as he spoke, needing something to do other than just listen to him.

"Almost every day she was pulled out to do something, and then brought back later that evening. On the days they left her in there, she would just scream. Or she was quiet. There was never any in between." He laughed, but it was thick with emotion. "One day, she went into the bathroom. Locked herself in there. Turned on the shower. I didn't think anything of it. But she was in there for a while, and I got worried. She was my responsibility, after all."

"And?"

"Every time I called for her, she'd answer. But I know what depression does to people. And when I couldn't open the door, I called for Chris. He broke in and found her sitting on the tub with two long cuts on her arm and a razor in her hand."

I swallowed thickly and looked out the window of my car.

"He punished me for that, but this time he didn't just starve me. He filled up the tub and held my head under while she watched. And she screamed and cried and apologized. Told him to stop, told him she'd never do it again. It took her holding the razor to her own throat for him to stop. Of course, he didn't think she'd actually do it, so she pressed down, enough to draw blood."

"What?"

Tyler cleared his throat. "I think a part of her hoped he wouldn't stop. I think a part of her wanted to actually go through with it. She's...there's a lot to Neila. A lot more than anyone has ever seen. She's self-destructive—"

I hung up abruptly.

I was wrong. I didn't know her.

Neila isn't someone anyone could ever really know.