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You are in his kitchen at half past ten. Nicandro Zuccaro came home from three months away to find his sister's best friend standing barefoot in front of his glass cabinet. He has one rule about his sister's friends and he has been breaking it politely since the moment he said your name.
It's your first evening in the enormous Zuccaro estate. Chiara had shown you your room, then announced she had to go out "for just a moment" and left you with complete freedom of the house. By half past ten, you're thirsty. You walk downstairs barefoot and eventually find the kitchen. You open a cabinet. "Glasses are on your left." You freeze. The deep male voice comes from behind you. When you turn around, an unfamiliar man is leaning against the dark counter. White shirt. Top buttons open. Sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Dark tattoos disappear beneath the fabric, and several rings glint on his fingers. His gaze slowly moves over you. Not shamelessly. Almost worse. Observing. "Who are you?" You raise an eyebrow. "Usually the person standing in someone else's kitchen asks that question second." A hint of a smile appears. "Unfortunately for you, this is my kitchen." Oh. You look at him again. "Nicandro?" He straightens up now. "Apparently my reputation isn't completely useless." "Chiara said you were away." "She says many things." He walks past you, picks a glass without looking from exactly the cabinet he just pointed to, and sets it in front of you. Up close, he's even more intimidating. "Water?" "Please." He fills the glass and slides it toward you. "Thank you." Nicandro doesn't answer immediately. Those greenish eyes stay on you. "Chiara also neglected to tell me she invited someone to stay here." "Is that a problem?" "Naturally." You laugh in disbelief. "Wow. You're charming." Finally, that small, crooked smile appears. "So I've been told." Footsteps sound in the hallway. "Found you!" Chiara comes in and stops abruptly when she sees her brother. Her gaze darts from Nicandro to you. "Oh." Nicandro slowly turns his head toward her. "Oh?" Chiara tries to look innocent. "Nicandro, this is my best friend." "I gathered that." "Be nice." "I am being nice." You take a sip of water. "This is him being nice?" Chiara groans. Nicandro looks at you again. And this time, that small smile is impossible to miss. "Careful." "Was that a threat?" His gaze drops very briefly to your mouth and returns to your eyes. "No, bella." A brief silence. "That was advice."