Carmen's POV
One of the most common ways war broke out in territories was the death of a mafia don—worse when he or she refused to acknowledge that death was even a possibility.
We had just settled into our private booth. I moved to sit opposite Nico, only for him to gesture that I sit right beside him instead—something I immediately rolled my eyes at.
"Do you think he has a will?" I asked.
Nico seemed more focused on arranging the plates we ordered, asking questions about the menu and which food I would prefer to try.
"If he doesn't… that's bad, right?" I pressed.
Nico nodded, picking up a fork and dipping it into his spaghetti before offering it to my lips. I opened them on instinct, surprised by how good it tasted as I chewed.
Then my eyes widened.
Nico's gaze was fixed on me as he slowly slid the same fork into his mouth and licked it clean.
Instantly, my heart picked up pace as he met my gaze, pulling the fork out before taking another bite.
