“Nico,” I call out, lunging forward on unsteady legs and grabbing his arm before this goes further. He could probably take them both in the state he’s in, but I’ve seen enough men insimilar biker jackets tonight to know they’d never let it go if one of theirs was hurt. “Stop, please. Bruno was trying to help.”
“Help?” Those wild eyes turn to me before shifting back to his brother. “What do you mean by help?” A groan from the tub pulls everyone’s attention, and when Nico’s gaze lands on Dr. Arturo, I feel him go rigid against me. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“He’s been following you both since you arrived,” Bruno says, pulling our attention back to him. “I figured you knew the guy when you had breakfast with him, but I noticed him watching you throughout the day—following you around the casino floor. I could tell he was up to no good when he came up here after you split.”
Long beats of silence follow his words. “You’ve been watching us?” Nico’s voice drops to something dangerously soft.
“You turn up in my city with Gabriella Rossi. Of course, I wanted to know what the fuck you were doing here.” I was right. There is something different about Bruno. He doesn’t carry the anger he wore a year ago. “I saw Luca here a couple of weeks ago, with that Marino girl.”
“He didn’t mention it.”
“That’s because he never saw me. I had no intention of approaching him,” Bruno says. “Or you.”
Tension hangs in the room, thick with everything unspoken. I press closer to Nico’s arm, more for support than to hold him back from jumping his brother. Slowly, I feel him let some of it go. “Fair enough,” Nico says, but I read the sadness in his eyes. “How long have you been with the Steel Sinners?”
“Several months,” Bruno says. “After I left New York, I came west—set on gambling everything I had away then gettingdrunk enough to find someone willing to kill me, but I picked the wrong guy to fight.” He glances at the man in the patched jacket with a brief grin. “Pope here punched the sense back into me. Literally and figuratively. Then he gave me a job at his casino as security, and eventually, I was taken in as a prospect.”
“Gotta ban you New Yorkers from coming here,” the Pope guy says good-humoredly, offering his hand to me.
“She’s the youngest Rossi—and only girl in the family,” Bruno adds, and his voice carries a weight that makes Pope nod once. The family would come down hard on anyone who let harm come to her.”
“Well then, they owe you,” Pope says, nodding toward the man stirring at the bottom of the tub, then turning to Nico. “I know the Rossis will want a piece of him, but this happened in my city, which means he’s mine.”
“What will happen to him?” I ask.
“My men will handle it,” Pope says, and something in his eyes makes it very clear that his way of handling it isn’t far removed from how the Rossis would. I watch as two men silently enter the bathroom and lift Dr. Arturo from the tub before carrying him out.
It’s truly a shame that Dr. Arturo had to go and be an asshole. Now he won’t be there for the exhibition and—
“Oh my God,” I breathe, turning to the window and realizing with a lurch that it’s completely dark. “The exhibition. Nico, it’s supposed to start at seven and…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Nico says, cupping my cheeks and turning my face to his. “You’ll get there in time. Breathe, princess.”
“I can’t be late. I have to… I need—”
“And you won’t be. Shhh, you have time,” he promises, pressing his lips over my temple even as he digs into his pockets for his phone to check the time. “You have at least fifty minutes to get ready.” He starts to guide me out of the bathroom, but I stop, turning to Bruno, who’s watching us like we’re the most interesting thing he’s seen all day.
“Bruno, you’ll come to the show, right?” I ask. “The tickets tonight are sold out but I can get you one for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure,” he nods. “I’ll be there.”
“Okay, thank you for saving me. I’ll tell Matteo about what you did tonight.” Maybe this will help squash the beef Matteo has with him. It’s clear Bruno isn’t the same man who left New York. I nudge Nico with my arm and he nods.
“Thank you, Bruno.”
“My name is Ghost,” Bruno corrects, and there is something deliberate about how quietly he says it—not correcting Nico, exactly, but claiming something. “Bruno Benito died in New York, and the man who was reborn here is Ghost.”
“Vegas suits you,” Nico says, and while there is sadness in his eyes, I also read pride. For months, Nico has carried something closed off, and I never quite associated it with Bruno. But when he turns to look at me, there is something different about him, too. Something that has loosened. A change that makes my heart turn over in my chest. “Let’s get you to that exhibition, baby. Can’t let your asshole professor ruin your night.”
Chapter Eight
Nico
The night is a blur of art, people, and conversations. At one point, a hotel attendant gives me a room number and a key card to our new suite—a necessity after the mess Bruno and Dr. Arturo left in ours. I find it amusing that a room suddenly materialized after we were told just yesterday that they were completely booked. Something tells me Pope has a role in making one available for us.
I find Gabriella chatting with some suit that was introduced to us earlier as a gallery owner, but I don’t immediately approach her. Instead, I lean against the cool, white wall and keep my eyes on her the way I have all evening. I took my eyes off her once to talk to the hotel attendant, but the rest of the night has been spent tracking her. The way she moves through the gallery space like a goddess in a sea of softly lit canvases, it tempts me into pulling her close every time she is within reach.
Fuck, she is stunning.