No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty Three

“Nate, open the fucking door!”

The barking orders were screaming through the speaker of his mobile, accompanied by the heavy pounding on his front door – which kind of matched the dull throbbing in his head after he and Shannon had downed a few too many scotches watching Ghostbusters II.

Groaning, he threw the covers aside with one free hand, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers. It seemed way too early to be facing this kind of shit.

“I’m coming. Chill out.” He muttered angrily, before ending the call.

Flicking the switch on the kettle as he passed, he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he opened the door to reveal Franchetti, lounging against the door frame nonchalantly, and the omnipresent bodyguard Antonio just behind him – appearing nonchalant, and at ease, but God knew, he could draw a gun in less time than it took to sneeze. Fucking lethal.

Franchetti gave a sarcastic wolf whistle, dropping his Ray Bans on his aristocratic nose to give Nate a sardonic appraisal.

“You could’ve put some fucking clothes on boy, it took you long enough to answer the door.”

Nate just grunted, moving aside to let them through the door.

“Doesn’t look like he’s a morning person boss,” Antonio chuckled, roughly pinching Nate’s cheek. The cool, professional demeanour instantly collapsing the second they shut the door behind them.

“Fuck off prick,” Nate sniggered, knocking the other man’s huge arm away from his face. There was never any doubt that Antonio had been picked as much for his physical appearance as his professional and calm demeanour. While Nate wasn’t a small guy by anyone’s standards, Franchetti’s bodyguard stood at least half a foot taller – and probably wider as well. He was pure bulk and menacing muscle – Nate had seen men literally shit themselves at the sight of him. “Tea?”

Nate was pulling a few cups from the dishwasher.

“As long as you have biscuits,” Franchetti grumbled, running a hand through his greying hair, and pulling out a chair from the dining table, “Bloody starving. Why the hell can’t you live closer to the city?”

“My family is here,” Nate reiterated, chucking a packet of Hobnobs over to Antonio – Franchetti asked the same bloody question every time he came out here.

“Much as that cocky bastard of a best friend of yours grates on me sometimes,” Nate grunted at the understatement – if these two were in the same room for more than five minutes, there would be murder! “He’s more than capable of looking after your little sister! Do the whole distant relations bit – give yourself a break.”

Nate rolled his eyes, and brought the tea over to the table.

“Maybe you’re going a bit senile old man, we’ve been over this loads of times – I love my sister, I love my niece ... I want to be here. Besides, if I moved to the city, you’d have me full scope rank within hours – I’d be working twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, instead of doing you the odd favour!”