Texting My Mafia Savior (Text Me You Love Me #11)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

NICO

I t’s almost time for the meeting with Enzo. I sit at my desk, drumming my fingers, my phone open in front of me. I’m looking at the last text my niece sent me, the one with the laughing emoji. The emoji reminds me of the distance between us—in age, appropriateness, experience, and everything.

Nobody I talk to uses emojis, not really. Lucy might throw one in from time to time, but not like this. Am I making this into something it’s not? I’ve spent the past day, between my long working hours, replaying the meeting in the cafe, imagining what her untamed hair would feel like if I gently ran my fingers through it, leaned in, and kissed her soft-looking lips.

What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. Me?

I quickly type a text.

Me: It’s showtime this evening, Arria. I hope you’re ready.

For the next hour, I work, attempting to focus on the boring legal documents. When my phone makes an alert noise, I grab it way too quickly.

Arriana: What if I’ve had second thoughts?

I grind my teeth. Ugly images flash across my mind. The things Enzo will do to her if she doesn’t play along. His comments about her still make me so livid I want to become Nico the Nightmare again.

Me: That isn’t an option. I’ve already told him you’re willing to apologize. He specifically commented on needing to believe you so that he would withhold any legal proceedings. We have to satisfy his ego. I’m sorry. I can pick you up.

Arriana: I’m not his performing monkey, Nico. But fine. I’ll be there. What time is it?

Me: The meeting’s at seven. I’ll pick you up an hour before. We need to account for traffic.

Arriana: I guess we don’t want to keep His Highness waiting, do we?

Me: Arria.

I drum my fingers on the desk some more. The smirk tugging at my lips is pretty damn annoying. This would be much easier if I didn’t respect her fiery nature so much.

Me: Please don’t say or even hint at anything like that in front of him. This has to go well.

Arriana: I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

Me: Maybe not. The right thing rarely is.

Arriana: So you’re my savior AND a philosopher, huh?

Another smirk. Maybe I should start counting.

Me: Stop with the sass. Just be ready.

Arriana: What should I wear?

Her question sends a surge of lust thundering through me. My balls ache, my shaft going stiff. My heart feels like it might break out of my chest. Obviously, she’s talking about making the best impression, but I let my imagination go wild. I imagine telling her to wear some shorts to show off her thick thighs and a floaty top without a bra to show off her curvy mounds. No makeup to show the natural, youthful beauty of her face. Keep her hair messy and wild.

Me: Smart casual. We don’t want to look like we’re making TOO much of an effort. But wear nothing that could give him a reason to make crude comments.

Arriana: Ah, okay, I was going to wear a miniskirt with fishnet stockings. I’ll pick something else, then. More laughing emojis.

She might have said it as a joke, but her comment puts the image into my mind. I imagine her rocking up in that getup. The fishnets squeezing tight onto her thighs, making her natural shape even more apparent. I stand up, go to the window, and squeeze my hands into fists. The thought of my niece is giving me a hard-on. I’m getting rock-solid. I’m salivating like an animal.

If I turned around and she was sitting on my desk, I don’t know if I’d be able to hold myself back. I’m getting that worked up just thinking about her.

I wait outside the Romano residence. If I go inside, I can greet her parents. I probably should do that, but I’ve never been close to my wife’s sister or brother-in-law. Plus, I don’t want to look them in the eye, considering the thoughts I’ve been having about their daughter. The sooner this mess is over, the better. I need her out of my life before I do something I’ll regret.

Arriana: Running a few minutes late. Do you want to wait inside?

Me: I’m parked down the street. I’ll wait here.

Arriana: Okay… are you as excited as I am? Eye roll emoji.

Me: I’m keen to get this finished . The last thing you need is Enzo Caruso nursing a vendetta against you.

Arriana: I’m getting really nervous. I even typed out a message telling you I was going to back out. But I can’t do that, can I? I honestly think I would if he didn’t have Lilly’s address. That’s how I’m going to think of this. I’m doing it for her. It’s the only way I’m going to get through it.

Me: It’s good to have a reason. Don’t keep me waiting too long.

Closing my eyes, I take some slow breaths. I used to do this before an enforcing job back in the day. I’d center myself, almost disconnect, so that I could do whatever needed to be done. Now, I’m going to need that same sense of calm. Being alone in a car with Arria will be difficult, even if it shouldn’t be.

Finally, she walks down the street, wearing a black winter jacket with an earth-colored scarf. She looks smart, presentable, and, yep, beautiful. I reach over and open the door for her.

She climbs in, smiles at me briefly, then immediately looks away. I wonder if I’m imagining the awkwardness. She’s probably just nervous about what we have to do, which is understandable. I shouldn’t even notice or care beyond getting her out of this situation.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

She clasps her hands together in her lap. “Yep. Let’s just get this over with. I’m going to be the sweetest, most apologetic person you’ve ever seen. After this, I’m going to put myself up for an Oscar. My performance will be so good.”

I laugh. “That’s the spirit.”

“It’s not funny, Nico.”

“Fair enough.”

I drive, achingly aware of the scent of her perfume. She smooths her hands up and down her legs nervously. My savage brain goes into overdrive, imagining what it’d be like to move my hands up and down her legs like that. It’s wrong. I’m wrong. I can’t seem to control where my mind goes with her.

She glances at me several times during the awkward, quiet journey. It’s like there’s something she wants to say. She chews her lip—with no idea how sensual it makes her look to me.

When I pull up outside the club, she sighs. “Memories, memories…”

I park. “I wish I could say you didn’t have to do this, Arria. But it shouldn’t last long. But I need to warn you, Enzo will rub it in. He won’t make it easy. He’ll want you to snap. Push you to the limit and make you hang there.”

“I’m doing it for my friend,” she says. “Let’s go.”

We climb from the car as a light snow falls. The temptation to put my arm over her shoulder is ridiculously urgent. It’s like a siren going off in my head. It’s fucked beyond belief. I stuff my hands in my coat pockets and walk next to her. Even now, in the freshness of the outside air, I’m sure I can smell her, her shampoo, just her. I want to touch her so badly.

In the club, we go to the back office. Enzo’s men watch us as we walk across the floor. I silently pray for none of them to call me by my nicknames or reference my past life as a mobster. Arria’s parents want her kept in the dark about this life. That’s my excuse. It couldn’t be because I don’t want Arria to judge me , right?

Enzo is waiting for us. He seems sober. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. He tosses a dart at the dartboard, hits a bullseye, then throws another and gets close. He’s had a fresh haircut, and his eyes no longer have that wild look. Instead, they’re cold, calculating.

Finally, he turns. “Nico, Arriana, so nice of you to join me.”

“Hello, Mr. Caruso,” I say.

Enzo looks expectantly at Arria. She clenches her jaw. For a second, I think she’ll let her natural, beautiful, fiery nature win. But then she says, “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Caruso.”

Enzo grins. “Such a polite young lady.”

Old instincts rise to the surface when he strolls across the room. He’s still got a dart in his hand. In the lamplight, it gleams threateningly. What am I going to do if he hurts her? I can’t just stand here. I wouldn’t be able to let it happen if it was just anyone. But Arria? My niece? The only woman who’s ever made me want her, fantasize about her, even if I can never acknowledge it?

“So, Arriana, is there something you wish to say?” He transfers the dart from one hand to the other as he looms over her.

My hands clench into fists. I remember what it was like to use these hands for bloody purposes, to beat Enzo’s father’s men almost easily, and to make it look more difficult to save their pride. The familiarity of both conventional and improvised weapons comes back to me. I feel like a caged lion about to watch his lioness undergo some terrible suffering, and I’m ready to break out of the cage.

Arria hesitates. She can sense the atmosphere, too. Her voice has an edge of terror when she speaks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Caruso,” she murmurs.

“Pardon?” Enzo snaps. “Speak up, chubby.”

Oh. Dammit. Don’t say that, Enzo. Please don’t call her that. Making fun of her figure, you sick fruck. She’s not chubby. She’s curvy, with perfect wide hips made for gabbing and manhandling. A figure that makes her uncle want to bury his hands hungrily in her gorgeous body.

Arria doesn’t look offended or hurt. She looks pissed . “I said I’m sorry.” She hisses the words at him.

“What’s this attitude I sense from you, hmm?” Enzo retorts.

“I’m telling you the truth. I’m very sorry for what happened.”

“For what happened… or for what you did?”

“For what I did,” Arria says pointedly. “It was disrespectful to behave like that in your club. It was wrong of me to get physical with you. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m extremely sorry, Mr. Caruso.”

Enzo pauses for a long moment. I keep hearing the word chubby on repeat in my head. It’s a childish insult. Arria is a confident young woman. I’m sure she can tolerate it. But can I?

Finally, Enzo looks at me. “You’ve trained her well, Nightmare.”

The prick. Using my nickname. Arria gives me a look.

“Really,” Enzo goes on. “She’s very different from the last time we met. It’s like you’ve neutered her, honestly. It’s impressive. You should be proud.”

“This isn’t me, Mr. Caruso. My client wants to resolve this peacefully. And she feels genuine remorse.”

“Is that right, Arria? Do you feel genuine remorse?”

Arria clears her throat. I know this is difficult for her. I know she’s probably close to snapping and letting her true nature out. Her sassiness. Her fire. “Yes, Mr. Caruso. I regret my actions.”

“Hmm. Well done, Barbarian.” Enzo smirks at me. “I think we can call it a day, then. If I were you, Arria, I’d never return to this club. In fact, I’d avoid this part of the city altogether. I might not be in such a forgiving mood if we cross paths a third time.”

“A third time?” Arria mutters.

Enzo laughs, thinking he’s being so damn clever. He’s dropping hints but not coming outright and telling her about our connection to the mob. That’s likely why he made sure there were Caruso mob men in the club, too, so Arria would see them and then piece things together. He’s hinting at the party he attended when they were both kids, which Arria clearly doesn’t remember.

“I must’ve misspoke,” he says. “Anyway… off you go, bye-bye.”

We turn away. That went as well as it could have. It was far better than the alternative, anyway. I hold the door open for Arria. Then Enzo says, “Go get yourself some donuts or something, piggy.”

“That’s enough,” I growl, spinning to face him.

There’s a long silence, the tension threatening to snap. Enzo tilts his head at me like he thinks I’ve lost my mind. I probably have.

“Excuse me, Nico?”

I’ve already crossed the line by saying what I have. If I walk it back now, he’ll likely try to get me to say something derogatory about Arria. I simply can’t do that. I need to show strength. “She apologized, Enzo. And she meant it. She understands she disrespected you and the club. But her physical appearance has nothing to do with it. Anyway, you know, some men like the curvy build. Not all women need to be traditionally beautiful. Or whatever.”

What the fuck am I saying? To a mob boss?

If Enzo was drunk, he might laugh at me. He might get violent at this point. Force me to my knees and beg for his forgiveness. His reaction is worse than all that. He rubs his chin, looking closely at me.

“Fair enough,” he says after a pause. He looks at Arria. “Please, forgive me for my unkind words.”

“Uh, it’s okay,” Arria mutters.

Enzo gestures with the dart. “Off you go, then. Both of you.”

Arria seems stuck to the spot. I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her from the room, then rush through the club. She stumbles as she tries to keep pace with me. I hold her up and walk faster. Any second Enzo could change his mind. I’m waiting for him to yell after us. Or to hear a gunshot. Or for his men to swarm us.

Once we’re in the car, I start the engine and drive away as quickly as I can.