Broken Princess (The Bianchi Chronicles Book 1), page 9
“First, I’m two years older than him—baby, my ass. And second, if you lick me to stake your claim, I will dick-kick you so hard.”
“I’m not a child. That’s not the way a grown-ass man stakes his claim. But I make no promises that I’ll never lick you.” Wait what? Tell me I did not just flirt with her? What the hell is wrong with me?
An alarm goes off on the monitor, and her eyes dart to the readouts. “This fucking thing is really beginning to piss me off now,” she says, wincing at the noise.
“It’s just the timer for your painkillers. Pause the film a minute.” I get up, reset the alarm and head over to the variety of drugs I need to sift through. After finding what I need, I head back to her and hand her the pills and a glass of water. Then, returning with a fresh fluids bag, I hook that up too and inject the antibiotics.
“How is it you all seem to know what you’re doing with all this?” she asks with a hint of meekness that doesn’t feel right coming from her.
“Doc Em showed Zo, and he spent a ridiculous amount of time explaining everything. Multiple times. Although, you understand that we have this room for a reason. We know how to use it. The guys get injured and with what I do for the crew, sometimes we actually need it.”
“Of course, I get that. I’m not stupid.” Rolling her eyes at my faux condescension. “I understand the need for medical supplies and the knowledge of first aid. I just meant that you guys make pretty decent nurses. I didn’t expect it. You’re looking after me when I expected to be down here on my own.”
“We may be murderous cunts, but we’re not assholes, Aurora. We look after our own.”
She considers my words. “It’s been a long time since anyone has taken the time or cared enough to help me, Nico. It’s a little overwhelming,” she whispers, lowering her eyes. The swelling on the right side of her face is going down, allowing me to see the glistening at the corners of both her eyes.
I lift her chin and hold her gaze. “Listen here. Helping you is not a chore, it’s a privilege.” I pause, not sure how to express myself. “We are so sorry we let this happen to you. There is no excuse.” I can’t maintain eye contact as I drop my chin to my chest and start fiddling with the rings on my fingers, straightening them one by one.
“You talk like you have an obligation to me. You don’t.” Then, lowering her voice further adds, “I had the obligation to marry him—to stay with him.” My head whips back up, my eyes meeting hers with a renewed intensity.
I growl and raise my voice. “Bullshit. I’ve seen the scars. Nothing is worth that sacrifice. Nothing.” Seething, my breathing becomes more harsh. “We will kill him. No one does this to Aurora Bianchi and gets away with it.”
Her eyes go wide as the force of my words wash over her.
“Also, don’t expect me to maintain this angelic behaviour forever. Always remember, I’m the psychotic murderer of the group. I can only rein myself in for so long.”
She looks at me with confusion in her eyes and in a voice so muted I can barely hear, she says, “I know a monster when I see one. You are not one.”
Stooping down, I bring my lips to her ear and my hand to her throat, gripping with the barest pressure. “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Aurora. I’m despicable, depraved, demanding and debauched. I’m ruthless, merciless, and remorseless. I am truly a monster. But now… I’m your monster.”
I have no idea where those words came from—but I feel them to my core. A deep sense of possessiveness overtakes me, and I flex my fingers. Aurora lets a small gasp betray her and I catch the subtle flare of her pupils dilating. It tells me how much that thought pleases her. She bites her lip, a look of awe on her face as she appears to reflect on my words. After a long pause she says, “Understood, Nico.”
I uncoil my grasp, leaving me free to pick up the remote. I press play and we return to Simon Pegg battering a zombie to the tune of Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen. “We’re watching the next one after this, right?”
Any tension present a moment ago evaporates into the ether. She flicks her gaze away from me and gets consumed by the screen.
“Of course, we are. Don’t ask stupid questions.”
We’re half-way through Hot Fuzz and I notice Aurora drifting into a fitful sleep. I get up to check on her and as I approach the bed, I see her brows draw and her lips are moving. She’s saying something, but I can’t make it out.
From behind me I hear a cough and Sin says, “If you sing to her, she settles down.”
“Erm, that is definitely not happening, old man.”
He shrugs and eyes up the changes I’ve made to the room. “Good thinking, although whose TV did you steal?”
“Benny’s,” I say with a smirk, and he chuckles too.
“He’s going to give you hell for that.”
“It’ll be worth it. I like it when he’s feisty.”
“I’d say too much information, but the walls aren’t that thick here or at home. I already know exactly what you guys like.”
I saunter up to him, taking advantage of the two inches I have on him, looking down and teasing, “Oh, you do, do you? You may think you understand our dynamic, but you most definitely do not. Maybe we’ll show you sometime.” For a moment, I think my words are enough to embarrass him until he straightens up, and it’s like his presence has grown. He steps into my space and slowly walks me back to the wall. Interesting. I let him simply to see how this plays out.
“Ah, Nico. I understand your dynamic perfectly well. Sometimes I think we’re alike in so many ways, but so different in others. I’m glad you found your perfect bratty little switch.” He backs off and thoughtfully adds with a wink, “Maybe one day I’ll find mine.” He turns, heads to the couch and flops down.
Well fuck me, our mild-mannered super geek is a closet Dom.
There’s a rustling of sheets followed by, “When you two are quite done having a mother’s meeting about your kinks, any chance of a coffee?” Aurora asks, her words laced with sleepiness as she stretches and rubs her eyes.
Sinclair nods. “I’m amazed he didn’t bring the coffee machine down here as well.”
“Was going to, but I got distracted by her excellent taste in films,” I say as Sin glances at the screen, and I can tell he’s confused. “Please tell me you know what this is?”
Sinclair shrugs and before I can launch into a lecture of epic proportions, Aurora chimes in. “Sin, I judge you. You’ve forever damaged my opinion of you, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at you the same again. For shame, Sinclair,” Aurora says, her tone thick with sarcasm.
“She’s not wrong, old man.”
“Fuck you both. I came down to ask you if you guys wanted anything from the shop.”
Both Aurora and I say in unison, “Cornetto.” We lock eyes and then burst into fits of hysterical laughter. He’s a heathen if he doesn’t get the reference, they’re called The Cornetto Trilogy for a reason.
“What are you on about? What’s so funny? Stop laughing at me. Gah, I’m surrounded by children!” With that, he storms out the door and we hear his boots stomping up the stairs.
“Should we explain it to him?” she giggles.
“Nah, fuck him. He’ll get over it.” I smirk and wrestle my laughter under control. “Are we carrying on?”
“Yeah, but coffee first.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AURORA
My head is a chaotic and confusing place to be right now. It feels like it’s engulfed by a fog. One that is suppressing my ability to feel anything. As ever, my handy defence mechanism has hidden the bulk of Max’s abuse from my consciousness, but the fog is stopping me from feeling anything else. I lost my dad, yet I feel absolutely nothing right now. That’s not right. That’s not how a daughter should feel.
But I know the minute it hits me; it will annihilate me. I’m definitely not ready for that level of emotional damage right now. I can barely handle the physical pain as it is. The aching in my ribs ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s overwhelming and the painkillers barely touch the sides of it. I’ve got to admit, the laughing didn’t help. Fuck, that hurt.
Nico brought the coffee machine down with him this time so he may be my new favourite nurse. Nurse Nico. I keep stealing glances at him while I’m drawn in and out of the film.
Of all of Zo’s team, he’s the biggest mystery to me. I’ve known the members of this crew most of my life and before I got married, it was only Zo, Sin, and Nico. They were an elite team, but they weren’t close. Yes, Zo and Sin were like brothers—they came through the ranks together—but Nico, he was younger and not tight with them. I want to know what’s happened between then and now that has turned that trio of teammates into a family of four.
I’ve been absent for four years, trapped in a prison of my own making. I wonder what else I missed?
It’s like I don’t know them anymore. We weren’t close friends before, but we’ve run in the same circles our entire lives. Even did a few jobs together before I got married. I guess I know Enzo best, but mostly through his older brother. Gianni was on my sister’s protection detail for years. He was like family. He was devastated by my sister’s death.
What I remember most is how loyal they were. Bianchi through and through, and my father recognised and rewarded their dedication to him. I also know back then he protected them from many attempts by the capos to relegate them to less high-profile work. Made Men are all about tradition and hierarchy. For them, having a well-positioned team of unclaimed mafia bastards—men who remind them of the indiscretions they’d rather keep hidden—is unnerving. It upsets the delicate balance.
Personally, I never understood why skilled men are overlooked because of the origin of their birth. Why should children be punished for the sins of their fathers? It’s idiotic. Don’t get me started on how the family treats women. Chauvinist pricks.
“What has you so distracted? You have one of the best action sequences playing out and you’re not even looking at the screen,” Nico pipes up.
“I was thinking about how much has changed in the last four years.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know… you guys, The Syndicate, and me. Only it feels like you guys changed for the better, the families for the worse, if recent events are anything to go by, and me? Well, that’s just a clusterfuck of epic proportions,” I say, accidentally snorting out a laugh at my expense.
“You get that I’m not the touchy feely one in the group, right?” he says, looking awkward as fuck.
“No shit.”
“When you’re healed, if you want to punch something, I’m your sparring partner. If you want me to hunt someone down to avenge you, that’s me. But the talking? That’s not me, Aurora.”
“I’m not looking for a heart-to-heart, you idiot. You asked me what I was thinking, and I told you,” I huff out. “I’m not a complicated woman, Nico. I get cut and I bleed. I fall down and I get back up. My psychopathic husband kills my father, and you know what? I might need a minute to process that. Excuse me for being honest.”
“You make a good point,” he says, nodding and holding his hands up in defeat.
“Are you telling me you don’t talk with Benedict?”
A warm smile creeps over his face at the mention of Benedict. “That’s different. Of course, I talk things through with Benedict. He’s mine.”
It makes me smile that a man as intimidating as Nico is unravelled at the mention of someone he loves. His permanent scowl has evaporated, and his facial expression softening makes his tattoos and various facial piercings less intimidating.
I rub my temples as the low thrum that has been torturing me all day threatens to turn into a full-blown headache. I’ve been skimping on the drugs because they were making everything hazy, but I’m tired and I hurt and I’m still a little grouchy.
“Can you grab me some painkillers?”
He’s up in a flash and brings them straight to me. I smile as I take in Nurse Nico, fastest med slinger in the West. I thank him but don’t make eye contact.
“Hey,” he says, bringing his hand to my jaw. Gripping it firmly, but with care, making me look at him. My breath catches. The last time someone grabbed me like this, I was stabbed. I should be having some type of trauma response, freaking out in some way. So why am I squeezing my thighs together and wondering what it would feel like to have Nico’s firm hands holding me in far more intimate places?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My eyes widen, and instantly Nico drops his hand with a look of horror on his face. “Fuck, Aurora, I’m so sorry. That will never happen again.”
“Nico—”
“If I hurt you, I promise I didn’t mean t—"
“Nico—”
“That’s just how I get Benny to get out of his head when he’s withdrawn. It was an automatic response.”
He finally stops rambling long enough for me to get a word in. “Are you done?”
“Yes,” comes a soft, very un-Nico-like reply. His brow is furrowed, and his jaw clenched tight shut as he tries to rein his emotions back in. Looks like he’s losing that battle, though.
I take him in, watching as he lowers his head and swallows hard. He looks genuinely disappointed in himself for crossing some arbitrary line he’d drawn. For touching me. This is a version of Nico I don’t know. I feel terrible that I’ve caused him this anguish. The last thing he needs is an emotionally damaged crazy person confessing their sexual fantasies to them. Besides, he and Benny are together.
Gah, I’m a twat. These men are helping me and here I am with all my screws loose, wanting to climb them all like a tree. All? Nico. Just Nico.
“You did nothing wrong, Nico. You didn’t upset me. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I shouldn’t have touched you.” He tries to get up, and I’ve had enough.
“For the love of God, Nico, sit down and cut it out.” His eyebrows shoot up at my outburst, but he takes a breath and stills.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he says and a strange raucous laugh bursts free from him, expelling any tension he was clinging to. “Never tell Benedict I let you get away with telling me what to do. That little brat won’t let me live it down.”
I laugh, loving that he’s devoted to Benny. They make a good couple. They don’t need my crazy ass interfering with their relationship.
“Press play, and let’s watch the Sanford Neighbourhood Watch get their comeuppance.”
Nico fell asleep before the end. He’s lying in what looks like the most uncomfortable position known to man. Half on the couch with his long legs slung over the low table. He’s the largest of them, and by rights he should scare the shit out of me. But there isn’t a single one of Enzo’s crew that I fear.
I’ve been sitting with only the residual glow of the TV screen illuminating the room, thinking about my current situation.
I’m safe. For the first time in so long, I’m safe. I don’t know how to feel about that. I’m used to a life of isolation. The more time I spent on my own, the easier it became to prepare myself for what Max threw at me. I built up walls. I like my walls, but it’s hard to keep them up when you’re being bombarded with care and attention.
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and no matter how hard I try to retreat into myself, I can’t. What’s the point of developing an unhealthy coping mechanism if it abandons you when you fucking need it?
Images of Max invade my thoughts, taking over and reminding me that as long as he draws breath, I’ll never be free of him. I’m still his wife, and if he finds out I’m alive, if he discovers that Enzo is hiding me from him, we’re all dead.
The room is spinning. That can’t be good. Fuck, I need to get out of here.
I mute the snitch that is the monitor and start picking off the wires I’m hooked up to. Nico freed me from the IV bags earlier, so I only have the boot slowing me down. Inching my legs over the side of my bed and using my good foot to take my weight, I start hopping over to the door. Only my hops become more like a limp shuffle as the movements jostle my other injuries, forcing me to suppress a whimper.
Nico may be a fantastic nurse, but he’s a terrible guard dog. It’s pretty difficult for a patient with all the grace of a drunk elephant to be silent, but I make it to the door without waking him up. I open it and continue my shuffle-hop down the hall to the bathroom. I just need to be on my own. Somewhere entirely less people-y.
Is this what a panic attack feels like? My chest feels tight, and the corridor appears blurry. I think I’m going to throw up. From behind me, strong hands wrap around my upper arms and squeeze softly, turning me with the utmost care. “Where are we going, Aurora?”
Calm washes over me and can finally take a breath. “I need to be somewhere smaller, darker. I need everything to be a little less… everything.”
“I got you,” Sin whispers, sweeping me up into his arms as gently as he can. After learning my lesson earlier, I quickly brace my back to keep my ribs as open as possible while he carries me. Thankfully, the drugs I took earlier are kicking in, so that helps. He walks us in the opposite direction; up the stairs. Taking in the ground floor, I notice it’s entirely too bright, so I burrow my face into his shoulder and close my eyes.
He nudges a door open with his hip and delicately sets me on a chair. We’re in a small dark windowless room full of computers emitting varying frequencies of whirring noises as the hard-drives process whatever Sin is currently working on. He leans over, switching off all the monitors to eliminate the light.
“You have twenty minutes,” he says, then leaves.
I whisper a thank you as he shuts the door and darkness envelops me. It’s soothing and reminds me of my safe space. The computers are both loud and quiet. Enough noise to drown out everything that’s swirling around my head, but quiet enough that I’m not overwhelmed. The hum from the machines vibrates around me, calming me to my core. No wonder Sin likes it in here.
