NERO: Chapter 63

With a warm bag of fast-food tacos on my lap, I watch, mouth agape, as Nero pulls through a gate that looks like it belongs in front of a castle.

We’re only about ten minutes outside of the city, but it might as well be a whole different world.

I’ve only gotten glimpses of the gigantic houses as we pass, since it’s dark out and the driveways look like they’re all a mile long, Nero’s being no exception.

The gate rolls closed behind us automatically, but I don’t miss the two men standing nearby.

On the first phone call Nero made when we left my apartment, he said something about “a full perimeter”. I assumed this had something to do with security, so I’m not surprised to see more men walking around the property as we approach the house.

Not house. Mansion.

Nero’s home looms out of the dark before us. It’s two stories, approximately the width of my entire apartment building, with a front door that looks wide enough to drive through. The entire thing is surrounded with meticulous landscaping, illuminated by those ground lights that dramatically shadow the impressive architecture.

It’s beautiful.

I open my mouth to say as much when a man walks past the front door, with a large four-legged beast next to him.

“You have a dog?!” I practically shout with my excitement.

Nero slides his gaze to me, as he turns the car toward the opening garage door. “Not really.”

“But…” I shift to keep an eye on the dog, but then we enter the garage, effectively cutting off my view.

“The dogs are here to work.”

“Oh.” My shoulders sag.

While Nero turns off the car, I let my eyes skip over the other vehicles already parked inside the garage.

“You like dogs?”

I bite my lip and nod. “I’ve always wanted one.”

“I thought your building allowed them?”

I don’t bother asking why he knows the rental rules for my place. “No. I mean, they do, but dogs are expensive, and I didn’t… I’d want to spoil it. And I knew I couldn’t.”

“What kind did you want?”

“I would’ve been happy with any kind,” I sorta laugh. It sounds sadder than I meant it to, so I wave a hand. “I didn’t mean that like a woe is me thing. I just meant that I’m not picky. I always assumed, whenever I could, I’d go to the shelter and get a small dog, since I had a small apartment, but the big ones are fun too.”

Nero grunts in reply, and I’m thankful the conversation is over. I’m intimidated just from his driveway, I don’t need any extra reminders of my poorness.

We open our doors at the same time, and I climb out of the car, food in hand.

He’d told me he was rich. Said it just like that. I’m rich. But I guess I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. I’d just assumed he lived in a really nice condo. Which still would’ve been intimidating. This place though––I try not to gawk at the size of the garage––this place is next-level rich. This place is movie star rich––I have a cook––rich.

Nero’s door finally shuts, and when he circles around the car to meet me, I see he has my duffel and the pretty blue heels I abandoned in the lobby of the Historical Society.

“You know,” he says, when he sees where I’m looking. “Cinderella only left one shoe behind.”

I fight my embarrassment by rolling my eyes. “Yeah, and Prince Charming didn’t break into her home to find her.”

Nero grins. “The villains always have more fun.”

Jesus Christ, he’s handsome when he does that.

“Come on, Princess.” He tucks the shoes under his arm, then takes the bag of tacos from me, shifting it to the same hand as the duffel. This leaves me holding nothing and him with an open hand.

He holds his hand out between us, and I take it.

Side-by-side, we walk through the open garage door and back out into the night.

I saw a door that I was sure led from the garage into the house, but my curiosity over the route is answered when a man approaches to talk to Nero.

Listening to their conversation, I learn the man’s name is Rocco, although Nero doesn’t introduce us.

My first instinct is to be offended. But then I remember that, like the dogs, this guy is here to work.

Another man comes over, and the three of them talk about positions and timing and other stuff my brain is too tired to understand.

Nero is gruff with them. His words are clipped and every inch of him is taut with tension. The man, who grinned at me moments ago, completely replaced by this harder, scarier version of himself. Even holding high heels, a bag of cheap fast food, and a beat-up duffel, he looks intimidating.

With my eyes on the dark bristly hair of his beard, I think I finally understand.

Understand him. The danger. The situation.

What happened with that invite today is just the beginning.

A chill rolls up my spine and I tighten my grip on Nero’s hand.

He doesn’t outwardly react, except to squeeze my fingers back. But it’s enough to remind me that I’m safe, that Nero can protect me.

He made it look so easy earlier when he pulled that gun out of nowhere and walked me out of my building like a soldier on a rescue mission.

He slipped into the role like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And looking at the men he’s talking to––with their not-very-concealed guns, alert body language, and eyes that seem to be purposefully avoiding me––I realize that this is normal. For them. For Nero.

I don’t hear what Nero says, but I know he’s done talking because he’s leading me across the sidewalk and to the front door while I’m back to gaping.

The door gets opened by someone on the inside, and I nearly gasp.

My movie star comparison was right. I feel like I’m on a set.

The ceilings go all the way up, making room for a giant chandelier. The glow of a thousand sparkling crystals bouncing off the grand stairway straight ahead of us.

“Wow.” It’s a dumb thing to say, but it’s the best I can come up with.

My head turns on a swivel as he leads me through the house.

“I’ll give you a proper tour later,” Nero tells me, as we enter a gleaming kitchen.

I think he’s gonna set the food down, but instead he goes to the refrigerator and takes out two tall bottles of water.

“We’ll eat in our room, then you can go to bed,” he explains.

“Just me?” I try not to pout.

“Unfortunately. I’ll need to stay up while we sort this out.” He hands me the waters, then holds his hand out for me again. Shifting the bottles, so I’m hugging them to my body with one arm, I slip my palm against his.

I look up at him. “I like this.”

He glances around. “The kitchen?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “That’s nice too, but I was talking about holding hands.”

“I’m glad,” Nero says it so seriously that I snicker.

He glances at me, as he leads us to another, more hidden stairway behind the kitchen. “What?”

“It’s just funny, how you said it.”

“How I said I’m glad?”

He’s truly confused, and that only makes it funnier. “Yeah, because you sounded like the least glad person ever.”

The edge of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “You’re kind of a smart ass, aren’t you?”

I narrow my eyes, choosing not to answer, and Nero lets go of my hand to swat me on the ass.

“Get upstairs.”