One of the few bright spots of this operation for Gideon, other than reconnecting with Nicco, was the ability to sleep late. It was so different from life on the Challenger, where there was seldom a chance to stay in bed and wake naturally, so the past month’s worth of late starts had been bliss. It would be a struggle to go back to his old routine. 

Of course, sharing his bed most nights with Nicco only made those late starts more enjoyable.

Leaving Nicco to sleep, Gideon gently extracted himself from the bed and pulled on some clean clothes. He padded into the kitchen to find Mitchell sitting at the kitchen table with an empty plate and a mug in front of him. To his surprise, Tolas was sitting opposite.

“What are you doing here?” Gideon asked as he moved to the replicator.

Tolas leaned forward on the table and quietly replied, “I’ve managed to secure enough trilithium to fulfil Niran Syral’s order.”

“It’s about time,” Mitchell grumbled. “It’s been almost three weeks since we handed over the sample. Gintak’s been getting antsy.”

The morning light streamed into the kitchen through two large ceiling-to-floor windows. It bathed the room in an amber glow.

“He’s just eager to get his hands on the latinum,” Gideon pointed out as steam rose from his tea. He could pick up the faint scent of strawberry coming from it.

“Reach out to Gintak,” Tolas instructed. “Let him know you’re ready to complete the deal and make the arrangements.”

The conversation was interrupted by the sight of Nicco, shirtless and rubbing his eyes, walking into the kitchen. Instead of watching Nicco, Gideon watched as Tolas followed Nicco’s movement with wide eyes and a slack jaw. It was the most emotion he’d ever seen the Trill show. 

Nicco walked past Gideon, lightly dragging his fingernails across Gideon’s chest. Even through his t-shirt, Gideon could feel a warmth spreading across his chest from where Nicco had made contact.

Approaching the replicator, Nicco ordered his usual morning cup of coffee. Only once he had the steaming mug in his hand did Nicco notice the other people in the room. 

“Oh. I didn’t realise we had company.” Nicco took a step towards Tolas and extended a hand. “I’m Nicco.”

Tolas looked at Nicco’s hand as if it was giving off theta radiation. He finally met Nicco’s expectant gaze. 

“I know who you are.”

“Of course.” Nicco snapped his fingers. “You must be the handler.”

Just when Gideon thought Tolas couldn’t look more surprised, his jaw dropped lower. His eyes finally left Nicco and found Gideon.

“I’ll leave you to talk,” Nicco announced, sensing the sudden rise of tension in the room. 

He walked over to Gideon and pressed a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth before leaving the kitchen and returning to Gideon’s bedroom.

“I can’t believe what I just saw,” Tolas said after several seconds of pregnant silence.

Gideon couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. “I know. I can’t believe how hot he is either.”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Gideon.” Tolas’s voice was tight as he spoke. “You’re sleeping with the son of one of the richest, most powerful men on this planet, and that man wants you dead.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Gideon said, biting back a more sarcastic comment. 

When Tolas stood suddenly, the feet of his chair made a loud scraping sound that filled the kitchen. “You need to end it. Now.”

“No,” Gideon said slowly.

Seeing Tolas this animated was new for Gideon, and it should have been a sign of just how big a risk his continued involvement with Nicco was. But Gideon was ignoring all the warning signs.

“What do you have to say about this?” Tolas asked Mitchell.

Chewing lazily on a piece of toast, Mitchell shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants.”

Hearing Mitchell speak of that heart in that manner took Gideon aback. He didn’t think the bed-hopping playboy knew what love was. He was reminded once again that there were layers to Mitchell that he was only now beginning to become familiar with.

“And what if his relationship blows your cover?” Tolas demanded. He turned his ire on Gideon once more. “You have a duty-”

“You don’t have to tell me about my duty,” Gideon hissed. He glanced back at the bedroom door, hoping Nicco couldn’t hear any of this. 

In two strides, Tolas crossed the kitchen. His face was inches from Gideons. “Then act like it.”

Tension crackled in the air between them. They held each other’s gaze, and Gideon could see Tolas’ anger and frustration burning like a fire in the Trill’s eyes. 

“You have a choice,” Tolas finally said, struggling to keep an even tone. “Your lover or your duty to Starfleet, to Forrester. I hope you make the right choice.”

Without another word, he stormed from the kitchen, and the sound of the front door closing loudly behind him echoed through the apartment. Gideon couldn’t ever remember seeing the Trill so rattled. A sign of just how dangerous he thought Gideon’s relationship with Nicco was.

“He’s not wrong, y’know,” Mitchell said quietly. 

Gideon walked over to the table and took the seat opposite Mitchell that had once been occupied by Tolas. “You think I should end it?”

“I think,” Mitchell paused. “If our cover is blown because of your relationship, we’ll lose Tom. Maybe forever. And you’ll have to live with that.”

“I just…I can’t give him up,” Gideon admitted. “Not yet. I need more time.”

“You’re always gonna need more time,” Mitchell said. “But time is the one thing you don’t have. Maybe it’s better to end it now. Rip the bandage off before things go too far.”

“It’s too late for that,” Gideon muttered. “I’m in love with him. I’m not sure I ever stopped.”

A soft smile pulled on Mitchell’s lips. “You never struck me as the type to let your heart control your head.”

“I’m not,” Gideon replied. “Not usually.”

Mitchell smirked. “Just so you know, I’m not picking up the pieces when we’re done here.”

“What makes you think there’ll be pieces to pick up?”

“’Cause heartbreak hurts like hell.”

Having had his heart broken once before, Gideon knew that only too well. But the idea that Mitchell also knew how it felt was interesting. 

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” Gideon commented.

“You think I’ve never been in love?”

Gideon sat back. “Have you?”

“Go spend time with Nicco,” Mitchell said, dodging the question masterfully. “I’ll contact Gintak.”

Watching Mitchell leave the kitchen, Gideon knew that Mitchell was right. He should end things now, before their cover was blown. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wanted to enjoy every last minute he and Nicco had together. 

Gideon had already made his choice.

Nicco had never had the luxury of choosing between love and duty. His father had made that choice for him before he was even born. The time he spent with Liam, he couldn’t quite get used to calling him Gideon, was amazing. But it was only a temporary escape from the duty that waited for him. 

Though he hadn’t been able to hear what Liam was saying in the Kitchen, he’d been able to make out the general rise and fall of his voice. He hated the idea that his relationship was putting whatever operation Liam had going on at risk. He trusted that if the risk became too great, Liam would tell him.

Those concerns were quickly brushed aside as Nicco made his way through the house. He knocked three times on the door of his father’s study before opening the door and stepping inside.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Come in, Nicco. Have a seat.” His father said with a wave as he retrieved a steaming mug of coffee from the replicator built into the wood panelling of Francisco’s study. 

Nicco followed his father’s instruction. He waited in silence as his father finished reading something before deactivating his computer terminal and turning his attention to his son.

“I understand you have another date with Jasmine tonight.”

Nicco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s not a date,” He told his father. “But we’re having dinner tonight, yes.”

“Then you’ll need this,” His father said, opening a drawer on his desk and pulling out a small, nondescript box.

As the box was placed on the desk between them, Nicco’s heart thundered in his chest. Just hours earlier, he’d woken up in the arms of the man he loved. Now he was being confronted with cold, hard reality. His father was pressing ahead with arranging a loveless marriage for the sake of tradition and his family’s legacy. He looked from the box to his father with a pleading look.

“Please, don’t make me do this.”

Francisco’s features softened. “I’m only trying to do what’s right for you, Nicco.”

“What’s right for me? Or for the family?” Nicco bit back.

“What’s right for you is what’s right for the family,” His father told him firmly. Any softness in Francisco’s appearance melted away. “It’s time, Nicco. You’ll propose tonight.”

Nicco’s gaze hardened. “And if I don’t?”

“Do not push me, Nicco.” His father replied coldly, narrowing his eyes. “I have allowed you to shirk your duty to this family long enough. No longer.”

Francisco leaned on his desk. “Whether you propose to Jasmine tonight or not, you will be engaged by morning.”

Holding his father’s glare, his own determination was mirrored in his father’s eyes. As much as Nicco wanted to fight this, to live his own life, his father always got what he wanted. His shoulders slumped as the fight drained from him. 

Nicco picked the box up and opened it. His grandmother’s engagement ring lay inside. For a brief moment, he imagined himself dropping to one knee in front of Liam and offering him the engagement ring, asking for his hand in marriage. It was a nice dream, but that’s all it would ever be.

“Is there anything else?” Nicco asked, barely above a whisper.

“What have you learned about the arms merchants from M’Talas Prime?”

“Not much,’ Nicco lied again. “Progress has been slower than I’d anticipated.”

“Not good enough,” His father snapped. “Nezra is expecting answers soon. If you can’t handle this, I’ll find someone who can.”

Nicco shook his head. Anyone else would have the answers Francisco wanted within a matter of hours, and Mitchell and Liam’s covers would be blown. He couldn’t let that happen.

“I can do it,” Nicco told him with conviction. 

“Very well. You can go.” 

Nicco left his father’s study with the ring box in one hand. He walked out to the gardens that dominated the land behind the Binanchi mansion. Nicco wanted to rage against the unfairness of having his life dictated to him by a man who didn’t know what love was. 

The large pond that dominated the garden had always been Nicco’s favourite place to think. His legs carried him there without much thought. Looking down once again at the box in his hand, he toyed with the idea of tossing it into the water in defiance of his father. 

But Francisco had been clear. He would be engaged before the end of the night. If he didn’t give Jasmine this ring, he would give her another. Francisco Bianchi was not a man to be defied. One way or another, he always got what he wanted.

“Niccollo?”

The sound of his mother’s voice caused Nicco to stop and turn. Carlotta Bianchi stood a head shorter than her son. She wore a long coat with a fur-lined collar. Her nails were immaculately manicured, and her black hair was elegantly styled. A gold necklace with a trio of sapphires dangling from it hung around her neck. Nicco saw her eyes dart to the ring box in his hand.

“Your grandmother’s engagement ring,” She said matter-of-factly.

Nicco looked down at the box in his hand. Unable to muster any enthusiasm, he told her flatly, “I’m proposing to Jasmine tonight.”

“Oh amore.” Carlotta reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I wish things could be different. I wanted better for you than a loveless marriage.”

“Bianchi’s don’t marry for love,” He told her flatly. “We marry for business.”

His mother looked at the ground. “I know.”

“If you could go back and live your life again, would you still marry him?”

Just like Nicco, she hadn’t been given a choice. “If I’d married someone else, I wouldn’t have you. And I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“I love you,” Nicco told her with a watery smile.

Looping her arm around Nicco’s, Carlotta led him along the path by the water’s edge. “Tell me about this special man of yours?”

“How did you know?” Nicco asked, casting a wide-eyed sideways glance at his mother.

Carlotta gently patted Nicco’s arm. “I have eyes. You rarely sleep in your bed anymore. And you’ve been happier these past few weeks than I’ve seen you in years.”

Nicco couldn’t help but smile at his mother. Where his father had always looked the other way when it came to Nicco’s romantic life, she always wanted to know. She insisted he invite previous boyfriends to dinner. His smile dropped as he realised Carlotta would insist on meeting the new man in his life. 

“Well?” She prompted expectantly. 

As much as he would love to tell his mother that Liam was still alive. Bringing him home for dinner would be a death sentence.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nicco told her. “He’s leaving soon.”

That they had no idea when Liam would leave was another source of frustration. He could be on Pergamon for another two months, or he could be gone tomorrow.

“And you’re not going with him?”

Nicco stopped short, his mother’s arm slipping from under his. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” Carlotta asked, as if the idea weren’t ludicrous.

“I couldn’t leave you trapped here on your own with him,” Nicco told her.

His mother quickly brushed that off. “I’d be okay. You could always come back and visit.”

“Dad would never let me leave,” Nicco told her. “He expects me to do my duty to the family, take over the business.”

Carlotta smiled at him sadly. She knew he was right. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Don’t stay out here too long. You’ll freeze without a coat.”

The chill of the evening air hadn’t even registered with Nicco. As he watched his mother walk away, his thoughts turned to Liam again. He wanted to run to him, to find comfort in Liam’s arms. Though he longed to leave with Liam, that wasn’t an option. His father would never allow it.

He would marry Jasmine Washington, do his duty and play the roles expected of him. 

Love was for other people.