From ashes to fire

His cousin

*Livia*

By the time the sedan reaches the gate, my wedding ring has left a red mark around my finger.

I have twisted it so many times it feels less like jewelry and more like a handcuff I am trying to loosen.

The reporters followed us halfway through Brooklyn. Two cars stayed behind the Moretti security vehicles until Elio took a turn through a narrow street full of delivery trucks and double-parked vans. I lost sight of them after that.

I do not feel relieved.

Enzo did not need a camera outside the house. He had my mother watched. He had my clinic records. He had people who could say I was sick with straight faces and expensive watches.

The iron gates close behind us.

Nico sits across from me in the rear-facing seat, his phone pressed to his ear. He has spent most of the drive making quiet calls. Every few minutes, his gaze comes to me, checking whether I am still there.

It makes my skin itch.

I look out the window instead.

A dark shape darts beneath the front hedge.

The skinny dog from last night is curled beneath the porch awning, dry this time. Someone has left a bowl of water beside it and a heap of folded blankets in a plastic crate.

Nico sees me looking.

"I had Rosa feed him."

"It is a she."

His eyes flick toward the dog. "How do you know?"

"She is small and feminine build."

"That is your veterinarian assessment?"

"It is called having eyes."

His mouth shifts once, close to a smile.

The car stops.

Elio gets out first and scans the driveway before opening my door. The cold hits my face, sharp with wet leaves and chimney smoke. Nico comes around the other side, but he stays back while I climb out.

No hand offered.

No hand demanded.

I hate that I like that.

The front door opens before we reach it.

A young man comes flying out of the house with one hand clamped over a bleeding eyebrow.

He is maybe twenty-five, leaner than Nico, with dark curls that have fallen into his eyes and a black leather jacket half on, half off. A silver chain flashes at his throat. He has the kind of beautiful face that probably gets him forgiven for things he should regret.

Behind him, a heavyset man in a gray suit storms into the doorway.

"You little bastard," the man roars. "You threw a bottle at my head."

The young man turns around while still walking backward. "I threw it near your head. If I wanted your head, you would know."

Nico stops beside me.

The air changes.

The guy sees him. His grin dies halfway across his face.

Then he notices me.

His eyes drop to my hand.

To the ring.

His brows rise.

"Well," he says. "I miss one breakfast meeting and Nicky gets married."

"Teo," Nico says.

"To a beautiful woman, too. That feels rude."

The man in gray reaches for Teo's shoulder. Teo jerks away, his charm vanishing.

"Touch me again, Carlo… I dare you."

"Enough." Nico's voice stays low.

Carlo takes one look at him and steps back.

Teo wipes blood from his brow with the heel of his hand. He is shaking a little. I notice because I know what shaking looks like when someone is trying to hide it.

Nico looks at him. "What happened?"

"Carlo told me I had an opinion problem."

"You put a bottle through a window."

"The window was arrogant."

Carlo makes a disgusted noise. "He was drunk at nine in the morning."

"I was having coffee with bourbon in it. There is a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes. Coffee makes it productive."

Elio pinches the bridge of his nose.

Nico stares at Teo for a long moment. "Go clean your face."

Teo glances at me again. The charm returns, thinner now.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Moretti."

The name lands like a stone in my stomach.

"Livia, please," I say.

Teo pauses.

A grin pulls at his mouth. "Good. Makes it easier when you eventually bury him in the garden."

"Teo."

"I'm going."

He gives me a quick, theatrical bow that turns crooked when he winces, then disappears back into the house.

Carlo starts after him.

Nico stops him with a look.

"Not today," he says.

Carlo's jaw tightens. "He needs consequences."

"He has them."

"He nearly hit me."

Nico takes one step forward.

Carlo is older, broader, probably used to making men nervous. He goes quiet anyway.

"You came into my house," Nico says, "and put your hands on my cousin. Your concern has been noted. Leave."

Carlo looks toward Elio, perhaps expecting backup.

Elio only opens the front door wider.

"Drive careful," he says.

Carlo's face darkens. He turns and walks past us toward a black SUV parked near the gate.

I watch him go.

Nico follows my gaze. "He works for my uncle."

"Your uncle lets men grab people in his house?"

"No."

"You sound very sure."

"I am."

The answer is too clean. Too final. It tells me Carlo will pay for putting his hands on Teo, somehow. A warning. A demotion. A broken jaw if Nico decides the man earned it.

I should feel glad Teo was protected.

Instead, I picture another house. Another man who called violence love when it happened on his behalf.

Nico watches my face.

"Come inside," he says.

My throat tightens.

I look at the front door. At the guards by the gate. At Elio, standing off to one side with his hands loose at his hips, giving me room.

"I am inside," I say. "I am not going anywhere until I know what happens next."

Nico's expression hardens by a degree. "Next, you rest."

"You do not get to decide that."

"Fine. You eat, then rest."

"Still deciding."

Elio looks down at the driveway.

Nico says, "You were awake all night. You were photographed outside a courthouse after receiving threats against your mother. You need food."

"I had eggs."

"Half an egg."

"I had toast."

"One piece."

"Are you counting my meals now?"

His gaze goes flat. "I am counting everything that may hurt you."

The words hit too close.

I take one step back from him.

The ring presses against my finger. The gate stands closed behind me, black iron and cameras and men with weapons.

Nico sees where my eyes go.

For a second, he says nothing.

Then he turns to Elio. "Move the guards off the front walk."

Elio glances at him. "Boss."

"Do it."

The men near the gate spread out at once. One disappears around the side of the house. The other moves toward the driveway, far enough away that the front steps are clear.

Nico looks at me again.

"You have the side-gate key," he says. "You have your room key. You have Shah's number and Elio's. If you want a car, ask for one. If you want to leave on foot, nobody will stop you."

"They will follow me."

"Yes."

"Then stop saying nobody will stop me."

His jaw flexes.

"They will keep you in sight."

"That is still following me."

"I know." His gaze does not leave mine.

I do not know what he expects. Gratitude because he admits it? Trust because he makes the cage visible?

A door shuts upstairs. Somewhere inside, Teo swears loudly enough that Rosa shouts something back in Italian.

The sound is ordinary. Angry. Alive.

I hate that I want to walk toward it.

"Fine," I say at last. "I am going in because I want to speak to your cousin."

Nico's brows pull together. "Why?"

"Because he called me Mrs. Moretti like he was trying to get punched."

"He usually is."

"Then I want to know whether he is always that obnoxious, or whether I got special treatment."

Elio gives a quiet laugh.

Nico does not. "Teo is not your problem."

"Neither are you. Yet here we are."

His eyes darken.

I walk past him before he can answer.