The box

NICO POV

What in the ever.loving fuck was that?

I couldn't completely process what had just happened. I stood there, staring at the damn door, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. 

At first, I thought for sure she was playing games, trying to trick me. It made sense. Being a Falcone, one of the most powerful families in New York, her father would have prepped her on these things, taught her how to handle herself when things got tough.

But now? I wasn't so sure. The way she reacted the expression on her face when I told her Nikolai was dead one couldn't fake that. Either she was telling the truth, or she was one hell of an actress. 

Our families had never crossed paths until Nikolai's death. They knew nothing of the outfit and clearly underestimated us by thinking they could get away with murdering one of our own. They had no clue what it meant to be a powerful Mafia family. It wasn't just about ruling and throwing weight around. It wasn't a motherfucking gang dabbling in drugs or gambling, where your stupid, trigger happy entourage could save your ass.

Being Mafia was first and foremost about family, loyalty, protecting your own, obeying rules, and carrying consequences if you didn't. We didn't ruin and rule for fun or a power trip. We fought, conquered, and earned every luxury our lifestyle offered. Nothing came easy. Our wealth and power didn't fall out of thin air. We earned it.

The streets of Manhattan had been ours for years. Everyone knew not to fuck with the Moretti. Apparently, the Falcones didn't get the memo. Falcone thought because he owned Falcone Resources, he could go around killing whoever he wanted. Now, because of their ignorance, she had to pay the price. Why her? Because it all started with her.

If she hadn't clawed her way into my brother's life, he'd still be here. My father would still be here. And I wouldn't be stuck with a responsibility that was never meant for me.

I straightened my suit jacket and turned to Damon, who had been watching everything on the monitor.

"She's lying," he stated firmly. "I know."

"Romano," Damon scoffed. "Fucking lying slut. Does she really think we'll fall for her bullshit? There's no way she didn't know who he really was. He was a Moretti, for Christ's sake."

"Maybe that's it. Maybe they figured out who he was, felt threatened by our family, and decided to take him out."

"They'd be right to feel threatened. But now all they did was sign every member of their family's death warrant."

I let out a breath. "Calm down, Damon. I told you earlier you need to keep your temper intact...and vanity," I added in a whisper, which Damon didn't hear.

"I know. Sorry. But the fact that she's underestimating us with her bullshit just riles me up." He turned back to the monitor. "Look at her with her fake fucking tears. She's one hell of an actress, I'll give her that. That was an Oscar-winning performance."

I pulled my palm down my face, frustration pulsing through my veins, making my muscles twitch. Damon sighed. "I just can't believe Nikolai, of all people, didn't realize what her family was capable of."

I snapped my gaze up at him. "The Falcones are one of the most powerful families in the US, if not the world, Damon."

"Exactly. So how could Nikolai have been so stupid as to underestimate them? Did he really think he could fuck the rich American girl and not carry the consequences?"

"Enough!" My voice boomed through the room, slamming against the walls.

Damon stared at me with widened eyes. I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my rage contained. "We don't know what happened. All we know is the Falcones had Nikolai murdered."

I rounded the table and walked up behind Damon, staring at the monitor. "But I'll get to the truth. I'll crack her wide open and extract every goddamn secret she has," I vowed while watching the blonde woman cry into her palms.

As she cried, her entire body was shaking. Did I care? No. She deserved all the panic and fear she was experiencing. In fact, she deserved more than that. She deserved pain too which, in time, she would get...by my hand.

"You left the box in there, man," Damon said, looking back at me. I smiled. "I know."

Just then, she lifted her head and spotted the plain brown box I had placed on the bed earlier. My intention was to make her open it while I was still in the room. Unfortunately, her lies forced me to leave, because I was on the verge of choking those lies along with her last breath.

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I continued to watch, knowing that sooner or later her curiosity would get the better of her. Right now, she was staring at the box like it was a trap. But the human mind is a wonderful place. Recklessness always accompanies curiosity hence the saying: curiosity killed the cat. Now this cat was one I couldn't wait to kill.

"How long do you think it's going to take for her to budge?" Damon tapped a finger on the table, barely containing his frustration. "Relax, brother. Just watch."

While she wiped her face with the old rag she was wearing, she settled a little, crossing her legs beneath her while continuing to stare at the box. When Damon brought her in almost twenty-four hours ago, she looked like every other spoiled, rich girl expensive designer blouse, jeans, heels. 

Besides being unconscious, she looked worth more than she really was. That's why I instructed Doc to strip her of wealth she didn't deserve, dressing her in two-dollar fabric that was old and tattered.

It hasn't even been twenty four hours yet, and already she looked like she'd been through Hell. She looked pathetic, poor, and broken. I hadn't even begun to exact my revenge, and already she seemed close to crumbling. But I wasn't surprised. Nikolai liked women modest and reserved a woman who lacked a voice and a spine. 

A woman who was born and bred to submit, and be nothing more than a pretty face to complement the man's image. I, on the other hand, preferred the more complex kind the type of woman who would get my blood boiling and my adrenaline pumping.

I watched patiently as Lila still stared at the box. Finally, she reached out, but then pulled back. I almost laughed at her cowardly behavior. Not something I expected from a Falcone.

"She's too scared, man," Damon muttered, pulling his hands through his hair. "She's not going to fucking open it."

"You need to work on your patience, little brother. Patience is a virtue."

"Oh God, you know I hate it when you say shit like that."

I lifted a brow. "Shit like what?" He glanced my way. "Shit like, 'patience is a virtue.' You act like a fucking fifty-year-old with all the smart shit you like to say."

I snorted. "Smart shit? It's idioms, Damon." "I don't give a fuck what it is. It's stupid."

I scoffed at him, ignoring the fact that my little brother was trying to act all cool with his slang, his ridiculous walk, and that god-awful handshake with his buddies. It was embarrassing.

Lila moved, and I glanced at the monitor. When she reached out and finally picked up the box, adrenaline surged through my veins. I leaned on the table next to Damon, fully focused. I wanted to see her face when she opened it, realizing this wasn't a dream, but a goddamn nightmare.

"Open it, sunshine." I gripped the edges of the table, feeling thrill and frustration burn inside me.

Damon snorted. "Devil woman? Nice. Suits this bitch perfectly." I ignored him, willing Lila to open the box.

Slowly, she pulled the white string. As it fell to the sides, she leaned back, staring at the box like something might jump out.

"Open it," I muttered, leaning closer to the monitor, fighting the urge to force her hand with my gun.

She bit her thumbnail. Thoughts raced through her mind-some telling her to leave it alone, others urging her to open it. Finally, curiosity won.

As she opened the box, my spine tingled with expectation. God, it felt like I was seconds away from a fucking hard-on.

She looked down. I knew exactly when she noticed. Her face turned ghostly pale just before she screamed and scrambled off the bed, falling against the wall.

"Oh my God," I heard her voice through the speakers. "Jesus Christ! What the fuck is this?" she screamed between tears.

It was beautiful. Poetic, almost watching her crack, seeing her mind spin in a thousand directions. Finally, after all these months of planning and plotting, the time had come. The time to exact revenge I vowed against the Falcone. She had taken from me what I could never get back. The only way I'd be free of this burden was spilling blood...her blood.

Damon glanced at me. "Game on, brother."

I smiled, tasting victory on my tongue. "Game on."