Page 35 of Texting My Mafia Savior

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s shameful,” Dad says fiercely. “I never wanted to be involved. Initially, I never wanted to befriend them outside of work or invite them to parties, but since they invite themselves to functions, what choice did I have? I couldn’t tell them no. That would be the equivalent of spitting in their faces. When I paid my debt, I left.”

“Then why bring us back?” I ask.

“I guess I thought we could come home and leave it all behind us. I don’t owe the mob anything now. I didn’t expect you to…” Dad narrows his eyes. “What made you look into this, Arriana?”

Uh oh. He’s using the full version of my first name, which means he’s going into parenting mode. It looks like the one-way interrogation is over. “Does it have something to do with Nico?”

“Nico?” Mom says, stopping her pacing and staring at me.

“They’ve been texting,” Dad says, somehow making it sound like one of the worst things we could ever do.

“Texting…” Mom looks at me, searching. “About what?”

“I’m helping one of his pro bono kids with some photography stuff,” I tell them. Technically, that isn’t a lie. But it’s misleading. If they looked at the texts—which I’d never let them do—they’d see they began way before I met Destiny.

“Did he mention something about the mob?” Dad asks.

Before I can answer, the doorbell rings. I rush to the front door, my heart fluttering with joy. It speeds up when I see Nico standing at our front door through the peephole, somehow making him even more imposing. He stares hard with those startling green eyes of his.

I open the door. He walks inside, looking far more on edge than I’ve ever seen him. Unless he loses himself with me, getting steamy and wild, he usually seems in control. Now, his hands are shaking. He steps toward me, then abruptly stops when he notices Mom and Dad in the hall behind me.

Make no mistake. He was about to grab me and kiss me.

“We need to talk,” he says darkly. “All of us. Now.”

We’re an awkward collection of people, the four of us sitting around the kitchen table, steam from our coffees rising into the air. Dad’s eyes keep flitting between me and Nico, though I’m doing my best not to show any sign of what I’m feeling, tosuppress any urge to grab Nico, clasp his hands, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.

“I’m sorry, Rocco,” Nico says. “I don’t want to cross any lines for you, but what I have to discuss involves the Carusos, and it involves your daughter.”

“You’ve got perfect timing, then,” Dad grunts. “I was just forced to tell my daughter about my old job.”

“I found a photo,” I explain. “From one of my birthday parties when I was a kid. Enzo was in it.”

Nico nods, then takes a slow sip of his black coffee. It must be scorching, but he doesn’t show any sign of the heat bothering him. Well, obviously, he’s all about heat… I need to focus.

“This evening, Dominic Caruso invited me for dinner. He seems to believe that…” Nico hesitates, putting his coffee mug down so hard Mom flinches. “He thinks something is going on between me and Arriana.”

He’s gone back to usingArrianaas if we can use that as a shield to hide the affection between us.

Dad’s lips thin as he frowns. To anybody who doesn’t know him, he might not look that mad. But I recognize this as the expression he gets when he’s really, really pissed, and he might explode at any moment. “Why would he think anything is going on between you and my daughter, between you and your niece, Nico?”

Dad throws the titles at Nico.Daughter. Niece. All reminders of just how wrong this is.

Nico looks at me with a sigh. I nod.

“After Arriana had that run-in with Enzo at his club he forced her to apologize for defending her friend, in order to let the matter go. I was there, and Enzo made a cruel comment about Arriana. Against my better judgment, I stood up to the prick.”

“He made fun of my body,” I say. “He called me fat, basically, and Nico wouldn’t let him get away with it. I know it’s caused all these problems, but honestly, it was so nice to have somebody stand up for me. What right does he have to belittle my appearance?”

“You’re beautiful, Arria,” Mom says, touching my hand. She gives Nico an unsure smile as if she thinks showing him any kindness will set Dad off. “Thank you for doing that.”

“You’re right, though,” Dad grunts. “It was a mistake… and not like you, Nico. From everything I know aboutthe Nightmare, you use your head. You make rational decisions. You don’t insult mafia princes.” Dad rests his elbows on the table. “So I’m asking you, man to man,issomething going on between you and your niece… between you and a woman almost half your age… between you and my daughter who has never even had a boyfriend… between you and a young woman who has far, far,farless experience than you, Nico?”

“Dad,” I snap. “This isn’t about that. It’s about themobwhoyoulied about?—”

“Let him answer,” Dad cuts in.

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