Page 4 of Texting My Mafia Savior

She stops in the middle of the flow of pedestrians, looking up at the skyscrapers with a sense of awe, a small, fascinated smile on her lips. Then she reaches into her pocket and takes out her phone, taking a photo, then another one. People glare at her—pedestrians don’t juststopin the city—but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

I briefly entertain the idea of walking out there and making a comment. She’s much younger than me. And I don’t really know how to flirt. There’s just something magnetic about her.You know you’re holding up foot traffic, right? Then, she’d turn to me with a smile. Do I look like I care?

Coincidentally, she’s walking into this very cafe. My heartbeat picks up speed. It’s a strange feeling for me to be excited about anything other than work. She looks around the room, her gaze settling on me. My heart picks up double time. Fuck. She can’t be… can she? But the only thing I remember about my niece is the camera she was always running around with. This woman has just taken a photograph in the middle of a rush-hour sidewalk.

She walks over to me. Up close, she’s even more beautiful. “Nico?”

“Yes,” I say, a pit opening in my gut. Insanely, I think, maybe she isn’t my niece. Maybe she’s the friend of a friend, an old client, or somebody, anybody other than who she clearly is.

“I’m Arriana,” she says.

Immediately, I kill the thoughts I was having just a few moments ago. “Please, sit down. Let’s discuss your situation.”

“Thank you.”

She gives me a look so heated I feel my temperature rise. At least, I think she does. Or maybe I’m imagining it. It’s like she’s forgotten I’m her uncle for a split second. It’s as if she’s as curious about me as I am about her.

CHAPTER 3

ARRIANA

Nico is… well, he’s handsome. Drop-dead gorgeous. That’s terrible to think, but it’s just the truth. If I acknowledge that to myself up front, I can bury it in the back of my mind and never have to think about it again.

He’s wearing a sleek suit. The same shade of silver as his hair, except his hair has a few flecks of pepper, hinting at the full black it must’ve been once. He’s fit and tall. He has an easy smirk, but it doesn’t seem to reach his sharp, forest-green eyes. For a crazy second, when I walked in here, I thought my uncle was staring at me as if hewantedme. It was nuts. And the look is gone now.

As I walk him through what happened at the club—starting with getting the drinks and ending with snatching my license back, then shoving Enzo in the chest—he watches me closely. He nods with encouragement, but his eyes don’t get any warmer.

“Surely, that’s self-defense,” I say, then sip my coffee.

“You must’ve felt threatened.”

“I did. Worse, I feared for my friend. I didn’t know what that creep was going to do to her. Whatever it was, it would not begood. He tried to force her to take drugs and then made a big show of getting our names and addresses. He said he wouldn’t let us leave, too. There’s no way he can sue me for assault.No way.”

“Just try to relax, Arria,” he says.

I smile without even meaning to. “Only my friends call me Arria.”

“Sorry, Arriana.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to say sorry. We’re family, right?”

He looksangryfor a second, as if he doesn’t want to think of us as family. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I never crush, pine, or obsess. But for that second, when his expression changed, it’s like I wanted him to be annoyed. I want… what, my aunt’s husband tobe attracted to me? This is the last time I think anything like that. That’s it. Game over. No more. I promise.

“My first point of contact will be to speak directly with Enzo Caruso,” he says. “He’s well known in the city and a big business owner. He’s also known to be extremely prideful. My instinct is that an apology will go a long way with him.”

“What?” I snap. “Heshould be apologizing tous.”

“That isn’t the way the world works.”

“You don’t have to use a patronizing tone… why are you smiling?” His smirk falters. I continue, aware I should probably calm down, and that my reaction might have something to do with the inappropriate thoughts bouncing around my head. “I’ve heard they call you the ‘The Savior.’ My mom told me last night. She was laughing like it was a joke. But I took it seriously.”

“I never asked for that nickname,” he says sternly. “I help kids—and some of those kids don’t have parents. It was a small news article in the press that got blown out of proportion.”

“I took it to mean that you’re protective of your clients.”

“I am,” he snaps. “If that stupid name ‘The Savior’ means a damn thing, it’s exactly that. That’s why I’m telling you, Arria, that you may need to prepare mentally to do something you don’t want to do. Enzo is a rich, powerful man. He could make your life very uncomfortable.”

“I’m not going to let him intimidate me.”

---