Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
NICO
S he’s cute as a goddamn button as she wriggles into her winter jacket, zipping it up to her chin. Every movement she makes seems to emphasize her curviness, her beauty. I try to stick thoughts like that far back in the darkest recesses of my mind. She’s half my age. And if she signs those papers, like I know she will, I’ll be dragged back under the mob’s attention. If I ever show an attraction to any other woman, the charade that is mine and Lucy’s marriage comes tumbling down.
How many reasons do I need?
“We should exchange phone numbers,” I tell her. “I’ll be able to keep you informed.”
“Sure.” She reaches into her pocket, takes out her cell, types a few buttons, then hands it to me. “Just put your number in.”
I quickly type it out, giving her my personal cell number rather than my business one. I want nothing mob-related on the record. That’s also why all the documents I gave Arria were completely fake. I need to handle this outside the law, just like in the old days.
When I give her the cellphone, our hands brush, but I do my best to ignore the warmth that flares up my arm, the feeling that grips my chest, the tightness, the inappropriate hunger.
“I still don’t like this,” she mutters.
“If you want to find work in this city, save more money, go traveling, you’d better learn to like it.”
“You’re quite bossy, aren’t you, Mr. Savior ?”
I grit my teeth. I can’t show her that the nickname gets to me. The article called me ‘The Savior,’ but there was a time, back when I was an enforcer, when some people called me that for a different reason. I’d always help the young and misguided youth of the mob world. Arria can never know that.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like the nickname?”
“I’m working for you for free, remember?” I tell her.
Her expression softens. Some of the sassiness leaves it. I’m not sure which I like more, her sass or her genuine remorse. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Nico.”
“It’s fine. I’ll keep you informed of any developments.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Really. I mean it. I’m going to trust your judgment on this.”
I can tell this course of action pisses her off. At least she’s seeing reason. Hopefully, I can get this brushed under the rug and move on with my life. I’ll forget about this attraction, pretend I never felt it. My niece —what’s wrong with me?
The club looks almost the same as when I worked as an enforcer: always depressing in the daytime, no music playing, the bright lights switched on. I’m sure the liquor stains on the floor are the same pattern.
Enzo is waiting for me in the back room. He was just a kid when I moved regularly in this world. He’s all flash, even more so than his father. Dominic—the man who took such a strong and sick liking to Lucy, I had to marry her to make him back off. Sometimes, this city feels absurdly small.
Enzo grins at me, standing up and clapping his hands. “As I live and breathe, Nico Barberi.”
“Enzo Caruso,” I say, shaking his hand, even if it bothers me. I don’t like how these men look at me as if they still have any say in my life.
“Drink?” He gestures for me to sit with him at the table. “I’m having one,” he adds.
The mob world is full of egos, ready to be bruised. He wouldn’t have added this last part unless he wanted me to say yes because, otherwise, he might perceive it as an insult. “Thank you, Enzo. Yes, please.” That hurts to say. It’s not even three pm, but I take a reluctant sip of the whiskey after seeing him take one first.
“Do you think I’m going to poison you?” he asks with a grin. He noticed.
“I was savoring the smell. I’m not used to such a luxurious vintage.”
“You’ve got a way with words, Nico.”
“Thanks.”
He drains his glass, then pours himself another. I take another tiny sip. “So, you want to talk about the girl who assaulted me in my club?”
I grit my teeth and clench my jaw—then, a moment later, I relax. I can’t let him see how revolting he is to me. I need to squash this weird protective instinct that grips me. “Yes, I’m here to ask you to forgive her.”
“She’s your niece, right?” he says. “I recognized the name. She clearly doesn’t know who I am. Hilarious, right? I laughed when I saw her name. I asked her if she believed in God. Or maybe this city is just far smaller than it feels sometimes.”
“You’ve got the hottest club in town,” I say, stroking his ego. “It’s only natural they’d come here.”
He wags his finger at me. “There’s that way with words again…”
I shrug. “It’s the truth. We both know it. But I agree. It’s a coincidence you chose her friend.”
“She led me on,” Enzo says as if it’s a matter of fact. His father, Dominic, had to claw and scrape to build his family up. While I can’t condone what the mob does, I can respect the hustle. Enzo was given everything, and it shows. “Got all hot and heavy, but when we were alone, she froze up. You can’t blame a man for feeling resentful.”
In fact, I can. I can even hate the selfish prick for it, but I won’t tell him that.
“I hear you want to press legal charges.”
Enzo nods. “We both know it’s the kindest thing I can do, considering the circumstances.”
“I’ve got an alternative,” I tell him. It’s difficult to force out the next part. If Arria wasn’t… well, Arria, I don’t think it would be. I need to get the image of her standing in the street, dreamy-eyed as she takes photos on her cell, out of my head. “Let her make an official apology to you.”
“She doesn’t know who I am, does she?” Enzo says.
“No. She doesn’t know anything about this world.”
“She doesn’t know her father used to be our accountant, that her uncle used to paint these streets red?”
I hate him for talking about my enforcer days as if it’s something to be proud of. “She knows nothing about any of it. It’s better if it stays that way.”
“What’s it to you?” Enzo snaps.
Because Arria is so enthusiastic, na?ve, and innocent, I don’t want her dragged into this world’s grimness. I don’t want her to lose her fierceness and her sass. I don’t want her to know how bad this city really is. Or see her father differently.
“It always makes good business sense to keep the circle small,” I say.
He nods slowly. “Well, I’m not going to start telling her mafia secrets, am I?”
“Of course not.”
He sighs. “I just don’t like the way she behaved. She was acting like I was some kind of pervert, like I was going to assault her and her friend or something. Hell, her friend was hot, sure. But Arriana has grown—how’d you phrase it? Chubby? Plump?”
Fuck. I almost crack. The old Nico almost comes out. My veins burn with icy rage. Under the table, my hands clench into fists. I could knock his teeth in for talking about her like that. Chubby? Plump? No—curvy, voluptuous.
“She’s not your type,” I manage to say. She’s mine.
“That’s one way to put it.” He laughs viciously. “I remember a night, once, when I was a kid. Father had you square off against three of his men, three , all top guys, all tough as hell. Bare knuckles, three on you. You took some licks, but you came out stronger. You were like a superhero to me back then.”
I remember that night, too, but with none of the nostalgia that he clearly has. My memory includes a drunk, resentful Dominic, hating me for marrying Lucy and wanting to punish me at every opportunity. I remember him slurring, his eyes wet and wild, as he bellowed at his men to hurt me. And then, when it was over, the worst part was that his expression turned to pride.
“Nico the Nightmare. Remember that?”
“I’ve had a lot of nicknames in my life.”
“Barberi the Barbarian. The Savior .” He sniggers.
“I never asked for any of them.”
He adjusts his watch. “You can bring the girl to me. Let her say sorry. Based on how convincing she is, I’ll make up my mind. But it’ll need to be in a couple of days. I’ve got business outside the city.”
“That’s fine, Enzo. Thank you. Really.”
He waves a hand, dismissing me. Walking away, I think about snapping his wrist in two like a toothpick. It’d be so damn easy.