Page 3 of Texting My Mafia Savior

I shake my head. “Honestly, Georgie, working pro bono is one of the most rewarding parts of being a lawyer. Seeing the look on your face—that’s worth more than any fee. Now, get back to your coaching.”

Climbing into my car, I take a moment to appreciate the win. My practice spends most of its time in real estate law, dry and monotonous work, but that gives me the freedom and the finances to take on cases like Georgie’s. I see one as fueling the other. At thirty-nine, after years of hard work, endless studying, and outrunning my demons, I feel as if I’ve finally made it.

Then my wife calls me. Technically, she’s my wife, although there are many complications. Really, she’s my friend. “Lucy,” I say, answering.

“There’s a problem,” she snaps. For a moment, I’m dragged back to our early days together, when everything threatened to fall apart, when I had to take drastic steps to keep her safe… those were the days when I had to become sickeningly comfortable with violence. Let my dark side roar.

“What is it?”

“Enzo Caruso.”

I close my eyes for a moment. Whatever is happening, it can’t be good if Enzo’s name is involved. Enzo is Dominic Caruso’s only son, heir to the mafia empire, the Family I once worked for as an enforcer. Dominic is the reason I had to marry Lucia. This all happened damn near fifteen years ago, but it seems as if history just won’t leave us alone.

“Does he know about us?”

“No,” she replies, and I let out a probably misguided sigh of relief. “It’s my niece. You remember my sister moved back to the city? She’s lived on the West Coast for years. Her husband, Rocco, got a job he couldn’t turn down, so they’re home.”

“Okay…”

“Well, Arriana—do you remember her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I remember a little girl with a disposal camera, always running around the place taking pictures.”

“Yes, that’s her. She and her friend were at Enzo’s club. Enzo tried it on with her friend. She rejected him… anyway, she—,” she says in a nervous rush.

“Lucy, take a breath,” I tell her. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her this panicked.

“Your niece assaulted Enzo Caruso,” she says. My blood turns cold. This is not good. “That’s the story he’s going with, anyway. And get this—he wants to press charges. He wants to take her to court. The sick fuck wants to put a stain on her record.”

“That’s better than any of the alternatives,” I mutter.

“Yeah, but it’s still not fair. We both know that Enzo had it coming. She was probably just standing up for herself.”

“You’re right. I’m sure you are. But if Enzo wants to take her to court, let him. It’s better than her ending up dead.”

“You don’t get it. Arriana knows nothing about her parents’ mob ties. She doesn’t know that her aunt is married to a mafia man. She doesn’t know that, once, her dad did books for the Caruso Family. She’s determined to fight the legal battle against the Carusos and plead self-defense. She needs a lawyer to make her see straight.”

I massage the bridge of my nose. “Lucy, I can’t go against the Family, not when we’re finally free of them. And the last thing we need is to invite the Carusos back into our lives. What if they inspect our marriage?”

“This is my niece, Nico. Your niece.”

“You sayniecelike that means a damn thing.”

“Then don’t think of her like that. Think of her as a young woman who needs your help, just like any other client you’d take on pro bono. All you need to do is represent her, make sure she doesn’t push too hard, and keep the mob connection secret.”

“That’sall I need to do,” I repeat. “That should be easy, then.”

“I know.” Lucy sighs. “It’s a big ask. But please, I’m asking as a friend. You’re the only person who can navigate this. Apparently, Arriana’s a very passionate, outspoken young lady. She’ll end up antagonizing Enzo even more if she hires a regular lawyer, one who doesn’t know all the ins and outs of the mob world.”

Lucy won’t hear a no from me. I want to tell her that my whole life, I’ve been trying to disentangle myself from this mob shit. I had reasons for getting involved. Mom. Dad. Lucy, a woman who needed me. My fake wife, well—fake to us, but real as far as everybody else is concerned.

“Nico?”

I sigh. “I’ll do it.”

I meet Arriana at a trendy cafe a block from my office. Just because my niece has got herself in trouble with the mob, it doesn’t mean my real work stops. My eyes ache from going over boring legal documents.

Sitting at the window, I sip a black coffee, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the street. A woman catches my eye. She’s shorter than most other pedestrians, her body curvy, wearing hip-hugging jeans that emphasize her build. For the first time in a long time, something stirs in me. She’s got long, shiny, untamed brown hair.

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