Carmen’s POV

Nico didn’t speak at all as they drove straight to his estate at an adequate speed. I didn’t speak either as I went through a lot of things in my mind until I settled on a single thought.

I need a gun.

Not only to keep me safe but if push came to shove I could end my own life if I realized that a much worse fate waited for me. Aware that if Nico could torture a young woman like a piece of meat then the other mafia dons wouldn’t be any better.

Heck, whoever was trying to kill him would be much worse if they got their hands on me. The thought alone sent a shiver right down to my very soul as I turned to look out the window.

All I saw were trees as the cars zoomed past the forestry, heading towards the exclusive part of the city where only wealthy people built their mansions in seclusion—which was good and bad since it meant they could do whatever they wanted there and not get caught.

I glanced at Nico only to see him focused on his phone, typing away. I had no idea what instructions he was giving, but I knew that he was definitely giving out instructions. His face was blank but I could see a trace of annoyance in the way he typed on his phone before he turned it and placed it face down on his lap.

His gaze darted towards me, his expression softening in that way that made me wonder if it was a plot of his to endear him towards me. His eyes were much softer with a hint of a smile on his face as he whispered from where he sat.

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale," he pointed out, glancing out the window, especially when it became clear that we were driving through the gates of the estate and towards the front of the main building.

I noticed that the car would soon stop and we would have to get down, so I simply went ahead and asked what I knew I had to ask.

"I need a gun!" I outrightly told him. I was asking but left to me it was more of a demand. Not surprised to see his face instantly focus into his more severe look as he focused his gaze silently on me.

The car came to a stop and the driver got out, followed by the guard in front, but Nico didn’t. He sat there staring at me.

"Why should I give you?" he asked and I could hear the edge in his tone.

"So you can shoot me in the back?" he directly asked without a trace of humor in his tone as he spoke and I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised, but that didn’t mean I was going to remain quiet.

"...We agreed to be partners! Partners don’t doubt each other," I pointed out, and he instantly shook his head.

"...No, I agreed to help you but nothing in that agreement mentioned giving you a gun," he said, and I sighed with exasperation and a bit of confusion, wondering why he was proving more difficult than usual.

"You do understand that, based on whatever’s happening, I actually need one," I told him, only for him to shrug as he sat there and met my gaze.

"...What I understand is that you think I can’t protect you," he said, and I knew that he meant it. Beyond everything else, there is no greater sin than for someone to think that a mafia don no longer has full control over his territory.

For a moment I didn’t speak as I met his gaze and responded as honestly as I could.

"I trust that you will protect me, I just hate feeling so helpless," I told him, gritting my teeth together as I waited. Hating having to explain my feelings—not surprised to see him crack a smile since that was most likely what he wanted. Nico had no problems exposing his feelings as long as he could use them as fuel for his goal.

I, on the other hand, would rather bury them. Hiding your innermost feelings was the best way to protect yourself—even from yourself. I glared at him as he leaned closer at the moment while still leaving enough space between us.

"You want a gun?" he asked, as if I hadn’t already made that clear.

"Yes."

"...Prove it. Kiss me."

My eyes widened.

Of all the things I expected him to say—that wasn’t one of them.

His hands were still stained faintly with blood. His clothes too. The scent of it lingered—metallic, sharp—mixed with something darker that clung to him.

And yet he just sat there, watching me. Waiting.

His body had shifted toward mine, his attention fixed, as if he wanted to catch every flicker of hesitation.

He didn’t repeat himself.

He didn’t need to.

He was waiting for me to refuse.

To walk away.

To prove him right.

But I had no intention of leaving that car without a gun.

And besides... he could kiss me whenever he wanted.

How different was this?

Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward.

I placed a hand on his shoulder for balance and pressed my lips against his, intending to make it quick—something I could pull away from just as fast.

But the moment I did—

His hand came up to the back of my neck.

Firm. Unyielding.

I tried to pull away—but his grip tightened as he deepened the kiss.

His lips moved against mine slowly—deliberately—like he wanted me to feel every second of it. Every shift. Every press.

Then he tilted his head slightly, catching my lower lip, pulling it in.

I pushed against his chest—but it did nothing.

The next moment, he pulled me onto him completely.

My body pressed against his, close enough that I could feel the steady, heavy beat of his heart beneath his shirt.

Too close.

And still—not enough for him.

I kept my lips closed, teeth clenched in resistance—until his hand slid beneath my shirt, his touch warm against my skin.

A gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

And that was all he needed.

He pulled me down again, kissing me harder this time, more insistent—his tongue slipping past my lips as my breath came in uneven gasps.