NICCOLÒ

29. Drunk in Love

"I don't want to go upstairs," Camilla protested, burying her face in Niccolò's shoulder. "I want to have fun!"

"Tough," Niccolò replied simply, climbing the stairs that led out of the bar and ignoring the curious looks from the clientele. "It's late."

Cee scowled at him, curling her cold fingers around the collar of his shirt deliberately, making him jump, looking down at the girl in his arms. "Camilla," he warned, a teasing glint in his eye. "Careful."

"What?" she asked innocently, a wicked grin on her lips. "What did I do?" Niccolò shook his head at her antics, pulling her close to shield her from the cold outside air as he crossed the foyer to the lift.

"Press the button for me, carissima." Cee shook her head defiantly, ignoring his gentle tone.

"Say please." Niccolò sighed, unable to help the tiniest of smiles; she was such a child. "You look so pretty when you smile." Cee tapped his cheek playfully, squirming as he tightened his grip on her.

"Thank you, bella. Please press the button for me." She reached down, calling the lift for them, before settling back into his arms.

"You're so comfortable," she murmured, enjoying the comforting feeling. Niccolò, no matter who he was, or whatever he had done to her, made her feel safe.

"Pretty and comfortable," he mused, watching as she closed her eyes, looking like she was about to fall asleep. "What every woman wants." She giggled despite herself, her fingers brushing over the nape of his neck.

Niccolò realised a problem as soon as he stepped into the lift, his girl curled into him; his arms were occupied, and his keycard was in his front pocket.

"I'm going to need to set you down, piccola," Niccolò told you, sparking a tiny protest.

"But you're so comfy," she whined, staring up at him with her big, dark eyes; he remained unchanged, setting her on her feet to swipe the card.

"Sorry," he shrugged, not looking the least bit sorry as Cee slipped her hand into his; she had him wrapped around her little finger and she didn't even know.

Camilla was humming as he pulled her out of the elevator and into their apartment, attempting to lead her to her bedroom, but she pulled herself free abruptly, backing away.

"I'm not tired," she protested, wobbling a little as she stepped back, eyeing Niccolò with trepidation. "I don't want the nightmares." Niccolò frowned, taking in her defiant stance; he hadn't known about any nightmares.

"More nightmares?" Cee shrugged, turning on her heel and heading back towards the kitchen; Niccolò followed her, his forehead creased with worry. "Camilla?"

"The nightmares," she repeated, reaching up to a cabinet for a glass. He was tempted to reach it for her, to lean over her for it, but held back a respectful distance, letting her fend for herself. "The ones about Caterina."

"How often do you get them?" Cee glanced over her shoulder at him as she reached for the bottle of whiskey.

"Every night." Niccolò moved forward, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her back as he moved the whiskey out of reach, making her pout.

"Enough, carissima, let's get you to bed." Cee closed her eyes, leaning into him; she could feel his chest pressed into her back, his forearm tight across her torso to hold her in place. Niccolò felt her nod reluctantly as he gently pulled the glass out of her hand and ran the tap, collecting a glass of water for her.

"Drink," he ordered, not moving from their intertwined position; he could get used to this. Obediently, Cee lifted the glass to her lips and downed it, letting him take the glass from her hands when she was done. "Molto bene."