I had to grit my teeth to keep from lashing out in anger, which was my default response whenever I hit a wall—and that was exactly where I currently stood.

"You’re my stepbrother," I pointed out.

But he merely shook his head as he ate a bit more, forcing me to do the same while waiting for him to pour another drink.

There was an art to it—knowing how to balance food with strong alcohol spirits.

"We’re not related by blood," he responded.

I couldn’t help the frown that appeared on my face.

"...You know your father?" I asked.

He shook his head again, a cold look settling in his eyes. His tone matched it when he spoke.

"No. Not that it matters. Even if I was your half-brother, I would still fuck you."

The words were beginning to grate on my nerves, and I struggled to maintain a calm, unbothered façade.

He met my gaze as he spoke.

I fell silent instead, eating more of the food on the table—though its taste was slowly becoming impossible to register as the tumultuous thoughts in my head took precedence.

I chewed slowly, breathing deeply and hating how aware of him I suddenly was. His scent lingered in the air in a way that made me wish I had sat opposite him instead.

"...I can’t sleep with you. I’m not attracted to you, so you might as well force me," I said directly, my expression cold. My tone came out fiercer than I expected.

He clicked his tongue.

A low, annoyed sound escaped his mouth as he set his chopsticks down and leaned back, not pouring more alcohol like he had been doing earlier.

"...That’s your first lie of the night, Carmen," he said, my name rolling off his tongue in a much lower register—the one that appeared whenever he was annoyed or angry.

"...We might as well end this conversation if you’re going to lie to my face."

He held my gaze, and I didn’t flinch.

"I don’t have any urge to sleep with you. I still see you as family," I insisted.

Yes, physically he was attractive—but that was it. I tried to see if it was possible to make him see reason.

But I should have known that when it came to him, there was nothing but absolute darkness.

The words had barely left my mouth when he suddenly moved, grabbing me by the waist and dragging me toward him, right between his legs.

He used enough force that my consent wasn’t even part of the equation.

Instantly I pushed against his chest, but he caught my wrists easily.

I glared at him with all the anger I could muster.

"...What are you doing?" I asked, hating how hard my heart pounded in my chest.

He leaned toward the crook of my neck, pressing his lips against it.

I struggled to push away, but it was useless.

"...I’ll help you," he murmured. "I’ll help you find your father’s killer and the traitor in his organization."

His hands tightened on my waist as he pulled me even closer, our bodies nearly brushing against each other.

"And in exchange, you will not be averse to my advances."

My breaths came in short gasps that I struggled to control.

"If I ask you to sit on my lap, you will sit—with a smile. If I grab your hand, you will hold on to me like I’m a lifeline. If I hug you, you will hug me back."

"...That’s all?" I asked.

I hated how hopeful I sounded right before that hope was crushed.

"If I kiss you," he continued calmly, "I expect you to kiss me back."

My back stiffened. His hands slid down my back toward my waist. A little lower and he would have been touching my butt.

"...Relax," he said. "Anything more than a kiss, and you have permission to pull away."

I was kneeling between his legs. Desperately wanting to pull back but unable to do that—not when the new terms dictated that if he was going to help me, pulling away from him was out of bounds.

I knelt while he sat, and somehow he still seemed to tower over me.

I met his gaze and slowly nodded.

"Is that all?" I asked again, needing to confirm, considering the kind of person he was.

Moreover, if Mad James—who previously controlled the territory—was long dead, then it meant Nico’s reputation preceded him as someone you didn’t want to cross.

Mafia dons made contracts while constantly searching for ways to skirt them.

A moment of silence passed as I waited for him to speak so I could finally pull away and return to my seat. Then he spoke.

"Pretty much. Like I said, I won’t force you—as long as you adhere to the terms of the verbal contract."

I slowly nodded, showing that I understood. We stayed like that in silence until he finally removed his hands from my waist.

Relief washed through me.

I instantly scooted away and sat beside him again, just like before.

Was I unsettled? Yes. But the fact that I got what I wanted made me feel extremely relieved.

It’s just a kiss. Families kiss, I told myself, confident that nothing more could ever happen.

Which meant everything would be fine.

Trying to steady my nerves—hating how easily Nico could unsettle me—I reached for the bottle and poured us another drink.

I had already lost count of how many we’d had, but I mentally checked myself, regulating how my body felt to make sure I was nowhere near my limit.

Confident that I still had plenty of tolerance left, I picked up my glass and downed the drink, enjoying the slight burn down my throat before placing the empty glass back on the table.

I was about to continue eating before we had to leave when I heard Nico finish his drink as well. His glass clattered softly against the table.

"Carmen..." His voice was low and deep.

But my wariness came from the playful way he said my name.