MAFIA'S MUSE

ual, hoping to get his nerves under con

shadows across the empty room. He was used to being the

and as he stood near the stage, he h

smirk, a bundle of clothes in his hand. the fabri

nt of amusement in his tone as he stopped just in fr

e replied, his

for you," Giova

rt growing as Giovanni stood there, close enough for Nico to feel

o," Giovanni added, tossing some clothes toward N

ing back slightly.

by chair. His eyes raked over Nico's frame before settling back on his

vanni around while he changed, but his words... hung in the air, making it imp

offering something else, something unspoken, and N

n't move. Instead, he leaned casually aga

d toward the changing room, t

ust be outside," he said with

ckly, he felt Giovanni st

and presence be

trying to ignore it, trying to keep hi

ing room, his body leaning on it, his eyes-those piercing eyes-were locke

d he fumbled with the new shirt Giovanni had

nni was watching him so intently. But he couldn't escape it.

ht you wanted to give me some space." His voice was rough

e he was, his arms crossed, eyes still fixed o

nni said, his voice low and casual, but

was the way his eyes stayed on Nico-the way they felt like they were peeling him apart,

His heartbeat was too loud, too

d quickly, but the air in the room ha

like he had every right to be there-li

urned to face Giovanni, the heat of the room making his s

stomach flip. "You're pretty," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His

ated the word like it didn't belong to him. He wasn't pretty. He was rough, and dangerous-everythi

like you d

d Nico could feel it sinking into his skin. He didn't know how to r

est in a way that made Nico feel more exposed t

caught under Giovanni's gaze, still held there, like the space betw

ty never breaking. "I'm not saying this to mess with you," he sai

eeling curling in his stomach. But the way Giovanni stood there, unbot

nto something almost... approving. "I'm not

ong-he had that way of seeing right through him. But Nico didn't know what

motion. The fabric felt tight, clinging to his skin as if it, to

down, wanting to get it over with. He didn't wa

eyes on him, burning into his skin. His heart raced. He wa

f, he heard Giovanni's breath catch behind h

tood there, his body stiff, eyes narrowe

to say something, but

oice low, almost strained. "And j

rned sharply and left the room, t

ce in the room deafening. W