Page 31 of Texting My Mafia Savior

“Okay…”

I end the call, take the photo from the plastic covering, and turn on my desk lamp. I shine the light on it, remembering Enzo in his office, looking at his features. The eyes are the same—the shape of his smile, the douchebag smarminess of it. Thinking of a kid that way isn’t nice, but I know who he’ll become.

That’s Enzo. At my birthday party. I’m sure of it. I need to talk to Mom and Dad.

CHAPTER 14

NICO

“How are things with Arria?” Lucy says, looking across the living room at me, her laptop screen reflected in her reading glasses.

I’m sitting in the living room, supposedly watching TV but actually counting down the seconds until it’s time to drive to dinner with Dominic. My nerves are making my gut tight, honestly. I could take it if it were just my life on the line, but it’s Lucy’s—my friend’s—life. And Arria’s, my… I don’t know.

“Huh?”

Lucy frowns at me. “That seems like an evasion. Something’s going on between you two, isn’t it?”

“We’re going in circles,” I groan. “I’ve got enough to worry about. I don’t need to have conversations like this as well.”

She sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just want you to be careful.”

“You kissed Giancarlo in her house, Lucy.”

Lucy takes off her glasses, cleans them, then replaces them slowly. It’s her way of buying herself a few seconds to registerwhat I just said. Friends become good at reading each other. “You’re getting defensive.”

“I don’t want to talk about me and Arria,” I snap. “Tonight’s going to be complicated enough as it is without getting into that.”

“So, there is something to get into?”

“Just quit it, Lucy.”

I’m standing in the elevator, taking slow breaths, just like I used to before a job. When I meet with Dominic, I’m going to have to push the past few days out of my head. I’m going to have to pretend I’ve never tasted my niece’s lips, never fantasized about her, never gotten myself off or talked dirty with her. To avoid all that, I have to pretend I never felt a surge of pride and respect watching her with Destiny; I must ignore her maternal instinct that heats my blood. Every emotion she's awakened in me needs to be squashed so my cold side can navigate what comes next.

The elevator door opens. As expected, a mafioso is waiting for me. His name is Tony. His flat face perpetually wears an angry look. He doesn’t look happy to see me, which makes sense. He was one of the three men Dominic set on me that night—one man I handled with relative ease.

“Don Caruso wants you checked for weapons.”

“Seems severe,” I mutter. “I thought I was here as a friend.”

“Don’t be cute, Nico. You know he’s got to be careful.”

“There isn’t a war on.”

“There’s always a war on. It just depends on whether we can see it or not.”

“Fair enough, Tony.” I raise my hands. “Pat me down. I’d be an idiot to bring a weapon in here.”

The old Nico might’ve growled.I am the fucking weapon. But that arrogance left me when I left the life. It was never really me, anyway, more a defense mechanism to protect me from the cruel reality of what I had to do to survive, to help my parents, to keep Lucia safe.

He pats me down, then steps back with a nod. “I was hoping you’d have a weapon.” He pats his hip, no doubt where he’s packing.

“Those days are behind me.”

“They’ll never leave you, Nico. Leave none of us.”

I walk into the restaurant. Dominic is sitting alone at a table in the corner. The restaurant is dark except for the light above his head. He always had a flair for the theatrical, and this is an obvious example of that. The man probably thinks he’s being impressive, presenting himself like some twisted angel.

He’s a big man, round-faced, the signs of indulgent living are apparent in the blood capillaries breaking across his cheeks and neck. But underneath his worn expression, it’s like there’s a young wolf in there, always ready to come out. He doesn’t stand. Instead, he takes a long sip from his glass of wine, looks up at me, and takes another sip. Finally, he says, “Sit.”

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