Fevered Trust
1666 Words
chapter 06
Obsidian Tower, Penthouse Bar, 10:14 PM
Nyx was better.
Not good. Better.
Her leg brace was gone. Replaced with a sleek black dress that clung like a second sin and heels that could kill a man in three different ways. She moved without a limp now — smooth, lethal, smiling like she’d never been dragged out of a warehouse with a shattered femur.
Like she hadn’t tried to crawl into Lorenzo’s bed two nights ago while he burned with fever.
Like Aria hadn’t found her there.
“Drink?” Nyx held out a glass. Amber. Neat. His brand.
Lorenzo didn’t look up from his laptop. Dress shirt, sleeves rolled, jaw tight. He’d been buried in Marino shipping manifests for six hours. The infection was gone, but the rage wasn’t. “No.”
“I insist.” She set it on his desk. Close. Too close. Her fingers brushed his. “You look tired, Enzo.”
He finally looked at her. One eyebrow raised. A warning. “I said no, Nyx.”
“Then I’ll drink it.” She picked it up. Sipped. Smiled. “See? Not poison.”
It wasn’t poison.
It was worse.
Benzodiazepine. Tasteless. Fast. The same thing she’d put in Aria’s coffee three chapters ago.
Lorenzo didn’t know that.
He took the glass.
Because he was tired. Because he trusted her — used to trust her — to watch his back, not stab it. Because he didn’t think anyone in his own damn tower would be stupid enough to drug the Emerald Serpent twice.
He was wrong.
He drank. Obsidian Tower, Hallway, 10:47 PM
The walls were moving.
Lorenzo knew they weren’t. Knew it was the drug. Knew it from the way his knees kept trying to give out and the way his vision tunneled. He’d been drugged before. By enemies. By feds. Never by her.
He slammed into the wall. Caught himself. Stairs. Aria’s floor. Go.
“Laur—Enzo?”
Nyx’s voice. Behind him. Closer.
He kept walking.
“Baby, you don’t look good.” Her hand on his arm. Nails. Red. Liar. “Let me help you.”
He ripped his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
“You touched me first,” she purred. “Remember? Five years ago. When you thought you were dying.”
He did remember.
He also remembered throwing up after.
“Get. Away.” The words slurred. s**t. It was fast. Strong.
Nyx stepped in front of him. Blocked the stairs. Her hands went to his chest. To his belt.
“Just lie down,” she whispered. “I’ll make you feel good. Like before. Like you need.”
He grabbed her wrist. Not hard enough to break. Not yet. “If you don’t move, Nyx, I’ll put you back in that medical wing. Permanently.”
She laughed. “You can’t even stand.”
He shoved her.
She stumbled.
He made the stairs. The Green Room, 10:59 PM
Aria heard the crash before she heard the lock.
She opened the door.
Lorenzo fell in.
Not gracefully. Not like a king. Like a man whose legs didn’t work and whose pride was the only thing keeping him upright. He hit his knees. Caught himself on the doorframe.
“Lorenzo?”
He looked up.
His eyes were blown. Pupils huge. Sweat on his brow. But he saw her. Knew her.
“Aria.”
Her name. Not stellina. Not debt. Aria.
“What happened?” She dropped to her knees. Hands on his face. Burning up. “Are you—”
“Drugged.” The word was ash. “Nyx.”
Rage. White hot. She did it again.
“Okay. Okay, we need—”
He moved.
Fast.
Too fast for a man who could barely stand.
His hands were in her hair. His mouth was on hers.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate. Like a drowning man coming up for air. Like he needed to know she was real before the dark took him.
Aria froze.
For one second.
Then she kissed him back.
Because he wasn’t forcing. He was asking. With his mouth. With his hands shaking in her hair. With the way he broke the kiss to gasp, “Please,” against her lips.
Please what?
Please let me?
Please stop me?
Please don’t leave?
She didn’t know.
But she answered.
She kissed him. Hard. Real. Choosing.
He groaned. The sound was wrecked. His arms came around her. Crushing. Then he went limp.
“Lorenzo!”
He was out.
Dead weight.
Fever.
Fever.
104. Maybe higher. His skin was lava. Drugged and sick and dying in her arms because he’d rather crawl to her than let Nyx touch him.
He doesn’t go to hospitals.
He’d said it once. Hospitals are where kings go to die.
Aria’s mind raced. No doctor. No meds. Dante was downstairs. Silas was at the docks. She could scream. Could—
Body heat.
Stupid. Desperate. Boy Scouts.
But it was all she had.
She dragged him to the bed. He was heavy. Too heavy. She got him halfway, then gave up and slid to the floor with him. Pulled the blanket off the bed. Wrapped it around them both.
She was in a t-shirt. Leggings. Not naked. She wouldn’t be. Not like this. Not when he couldn’t say yes.
She pressed her front to his side. Arm over his chest. Leg tangled with his. Skin to skin where she could — forearm to his neck, cheek to his collarbone.
He was fire.
She held on.
“Stay,” she whispered. “You stubborn bastard. Stay.” The Green Room, 2:18 AM
He was cooler.
Not cool. But cooler. 101. Maybe.
His breathing was even. His heart was steady under her palm.
Aria hadn’t moved in three hours.
The door opened.
Dante. Gun out. Saw them.
Stopped.
His eyes went from Lorenzo’s face, to Aria’s arm around him, to the way Lorenzo’s hand was fisted in her shirt like he’d die if he let go.
Dante said nothing.
Just nodded. Once.
And shut the door. The Green Room, 5:03 AM
“Why?”
His voice was gravel.
Aria startled. She’d dozed off. Her face was on his chest. His shirt was damp with sweat. Hers too.
She looked up.
He was awake.
Green eyes. Clear. Exhausted. Alive.
“Why what?” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you call Dante? Why didn’t you let me die?”
Because A.V. 7-14-02 was burning a hole in her pocket. Because eighty-two million dollars wouldn’t mean anything if he was dead. Because—
“Because you came to me,” she said. You didn’t go to a doctor. You came to me.”
He stared.
Then he laughed. It was broken. Quiet. “Stupid. I was drugged. Feverish. I could’ve—”
“You didn’t.”
“I kissed you.”
“You did.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“Because you said no. Last time.”
Aria pushed up on her elbow. Looked down at him. “I couldn't say no tonight.”
“You couldn’t say yes. You didn’t have a choice.”
“I chose to hold you.” Her voice shook. “I chose to keep you warm. I chose to stay. That’s a choice, Lorenzo.”
He closed his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“What?”
“Lorenzo. Only my enemies call me that.”
“Then what do I call you?”
He opened his eyes. “Enzo. Only Enzo.”
Enzo.
Her chest hurt.
“Okay,” she said. “Enzo.”
His hand came up. Slow. Like he was asking. She didn’t flinch. He brushed her hair back. Tucked it behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her cheek.
“Did she touch me?” he asked.
“Nyx?”
“Yes.”
“No.” Aria’s jaw clenched. “I got there first.”
Something dangerous flickered in his face. Relief. Possession. Pride.
“Good,” he said.
He dropped his hand.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “On the bed. I’ll take the floor.”
“You’re still sick.”
“I’ve been worse.”
“Liar.”
He almost smiled. “Go, Aria. Before I do something we both regret.”
She went.
But she left the blanket.
And he pulled it around himself like it still smelled like her. Obsidian Tower, War Room, 9:00 AM
Nyx was gone.
Dante delivered the news like it was the weather. “Packed a bag. Took a car. Left a note.”
Enzo didn’t look up. “What did it say?”
“‘You’ll regret this.’”
Enzo snorted. “She’s not wrong.”
He looked at Aria. She was in the corner. Jeans. Sweater. Gun on her hip now — he’d given it to her after the docks talk. She hadn’t given it back.
“You’re with me tonight,” he told her.
“Where?”
“Marino meeting. You’re my plus one.”
“I don’t have the password,” she said automatically.
“I know.”
He did know.
And he didn’t care.
Dante frowned. “Boss, if she doesn’t—”
“She’s coming.” Enzo stood. “Get the cars ready.”
Everyone filed out.
Aria didn’t.
“You’re not using me as bait,” she said when they were alone.
“I’m using you as a partner.” He walked to her. Stopped a foot away. Not touching. Never without permission now. “You wanted in the war. This is the war.”
“Why?”
“Because you saved my life last night. And I pay my debts.”
He left.
Aria stood there.
Hand in her pocket.
Fingers on a photo.
A.V. 7-14-02.
She still didn’t say it.
Because Enzo asked her to come.
Not Lorenzo. Not the Emerald Serpent.
Enzo.
And that was worth more than eighty-two million dollars.
For now.
TBC...
- Writer
