Page 40 of Texting My Mafia Savior

Arriana:You’re not doing anything romantic, though. We’re just talking.

Maybe she’s texted this for my benefit, but everything we do seems romantic to me. Everything we do or say to each other feels meaningful. I wish I were driving to Maine with her, wish none of this was happening—that we were just going on a trip, laughing together, sharing that easy warmth that feels far too natural considering everything. Who I am. Who she is. Who we can never be.

Arriana:It’s obsession.I’d say that when we saw each other, we knew we wanted each other. I’d say that, yeah, there’s probably something wrong with us. But if that’s the case, we don’t want there to be something right.

Me:I can’t agree with you.

Arriana:Because it’s not true… or because you promised Dad?

Me:Do you think our relationship deserves a future?

Arriana:That seems like you’re dodging the question—which, BTW, is a specialty of yours—but yeah, I do. Why?

Me:I askbecause if you look at us, what sort of future can we ever have? The mob is the most powerful force in this city, and because of them, I have to pretend to be married to somebody who has only ever been a friend to me. You’re half my age. You’re my niece. Your dad has specifically told me to stop. Even if none of that was true, you’ll be traveling soon, building your own memories, forming your own experiences.

Arriana:So you’re saying it’s hopeless?

Me:How else would you describe it?

There’s a long pause. I don’t think she’s going to reply. But then my phone pings.

Arriana:I’d say the fact we’re talking about this, and not the Caruso Family, proves there’s something real here.

Does that mean our mountains of problems will sort themselves out, then?

Arriana:What are you going to do?

Me:Lie here. Don’t let myself sleep. Think. Think hard. Think until my head hurts. There has to be a way out of this.

Arriana:There’s a happy ever after, Nico. I just know it.

Me:I wouldn’t go that far, but you’ve got the optimism of youth.

Arriana:You know I don’t care about age gaps, right? I never would’ve mentioned it if you didn’t. I care about you for you. Age is just a number.

I shake my head, putting my phone down, deciding I won’t reply unless necessary. I’ll keep my phone on loud. Although I said I wouldn’t sleep, I should. But my mind won’t stop spinning.

Just like when I was an enforcer, plans take shape in my mind. But all of them involve bloodshed. Am I willing to start a mafia war to keep my niece safe? Or am I willing to kill so many, so efficiently, that there’s no one there to start a war? Am I willing to become Nico the Nightmare, but even worse, even deadlier, a version that Arria could never love?

CHAPTER 17

ARRIANA

The following morning, I sit on the porch in my coat, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug of cocoa, the other on my cellphone. Part of the lake is iced over. Even with the fire flickering in the grill, the porch is cool. But I need the iciness to wake me up. The frosty blue of the surroundings and the snow in the trees remind me of Nico. Of his calm demeanor.

Me:Did you get any sleep?

Nico:A little. I think I may need to become a man you’ll hate if I’m going to get us out of this.

My belly goes tight and hot. Even hotter than my hand on the mug. He said he would be good and stick to his promise to Dad, but he couldn’t. He can’t. All the reasons he laid out last night about why we can’t be together are valid. But we still can’t stop.

Me:I could never hate you.

Nico:It’ll mean becoming the Nightmare again. The Barbarian. Do you understand what I’m saying?

I swallow.

Me:I think you’re saying you’ll have to do bad things to bad people.

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