Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
ARRIANA
“ I s everything okay?” Dad asks over breakfast.
I usually love eating breakfast with my parents. We’ve always been a tight family unit. Despite Dad’s long hours, he’s always found ways to spend time with me, often taking me on trips so I can snap photos. Mom has always been there, too, a rock through the good and bad times. But ever since this stuff with Nico, I find it difficult to be myself around them.
I imagine saying, Not really. I keep fantasizing about your brother-in-law, Mom.
“I’m fine,” I say with a forced smile.
“Do you miss California?” Mom asks tentatively.
I shake of my head. “I like it here. Strangely, I like the cold. Blue and gray shades appeal to me. I like… the change.”
I pause before saying ‘the change’ because I was dangerously close to saying ‘my uncle’ like some sort of freak. No self-control, no shame, no common sense. All of that’s behind me now, anyway.
“You must be happy to be home,” I tell Mom. “You get to spend more time with your sister.”
“Yes, Lucy’s the best,” Mom replies.
I think about her cheating on her husband and passionately kissing her business partner in the guest bedroom of our home. I don’t enjoy feeling that I resent my aunt. She was always so loving and supportive when we lived on the East Coast. But now it’s messed up. I can’t ignore that brutal fact. She found a man as handsome, selfless, and interesting as Nico, and she’s throwing it all away.
I wonder if they’ve had problems in their marriage. Did the rifts start a long time ago? Has their marriage been pulling apart at the seams for a long time? None of this is even remotely my business, of course, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering. It doesn’t stop me from wishing I was in her place, just for a day, to know what it felt like to belong to him.
After breakfast, I head upstairs, open my laptop, and look for jobs. I’ll need to work for roughly three more months until I have enough savings to begin my travels. I plan to produce a portfolio of work, hopefully something impressive and substantial, that will launch a career.
My phone vibrates. It’s him. I don’t even bother to question the way my heartbeat picks up speed this time. It’s expected.
Nico: I need to ask you a favor, Arria. It’s related to the case. This is going to seem strange. It’ll make you suspicious, but I need you to trust me and do what I say.
Me: Okay…
Nico: Does that mean you agree?
Me: How can I agree when I don’t even know what you’re talking about?
Nico: That’s the whole point. You need to trust, not understand. I will not hurt you. I’d never do that.
I stare at the word ‘never.’ It produces those same tempting tingles that ended up with me touching myself in bed, alone, dreaming of him. I should tell him I won’t agree to anything without more details. That he’s freaking me out. He’s my uncle, and this is getting intimate and way too private.
Me: I trust you.
Nico: This evening, there’s a photography seminar downtown. Attend it. Stay until the very end. Then, walk two blocks to the park. I’ll be waiting on the corner in a sedan with tinted windows. Climb into the back seat.
Me: Are you serious?
My heart is almost jumping out of my chest. Okay, that’s more melodrama. But that’s what it feels like. My mouth is dry. I lick my lips, which makes me think of what it’d be like to kiss him, taste him. Something is wrong with me.
Nico: Can you do it, please?
Me: You need to prove that this is really Nico. You’re freaking me out.
Nico: During the meeting, Enzo called you ‘chubby’. I defended you. He hit a bullseye on his dartboard when we entered the room.
Me: Well, you could be Enzo, then.
A moment later, a photo arrives. It shows Nico sitting at his desk, holding up a small piece of paper with today’s date on it. He looks serious, beyond serious. He looks murderous, almost. Violent. Steamy and scary—a combination of things that should make me run, or at least tell Mom and Dad what’s going on. Deep down, I wonder, maybe even wish, if he wants to meet because he feels the same way I do.
But we can’t cheat on Aunt Lucy, even if she’s doing the same.
Nico: I’ll see you tonight, Arria.
I put my phone down and take a few slow breaths, trying to steady myself. My head feels light. This is way more excitement than I ever had in California. It feels like I’m suddenly inside a thriller. I remember the nicknames Enzo threw at Nico. Nightmare. Barbarian. I remember the tough-looking guys in the club staring at us.
Something weird is happening here. I just don’t know what. Yet. I know one thing, though. I’m going to do what Nico says. Even if it’s nuts—even if I’m crazy—I trust him more than I should.
The seminar is probably super interesting, but I’m too distracted to pay attention. It’s dark by the time I leave. I wrap my scarf tightly around myself and walk toward the park. The streets are quiet. The car is sitting right where he said it’d be, but it’s different from the car he picked me up in before the meeting with Enzo. Why all the secrecy?
I climb into the backseat, almost expecting somebody else to be sitting in the front. But it’s Nico who looks at me in the rearview mirror, his green eyes looking grim. He pulls away without even saying hello.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere,” he replies.
“Nowhere?”
“We’re going to drive around the city as we talk,” he says. “And then I’m going to drop you someplace away from here, wait for you to call a cab, and make sure you get home safely.”
“You’re acting weird, Nico,” I tell him.
He sighs. “I know. But I had to explain something to you, which isn’t entirely true because I can’t fully explain it. You’re going to be confused and frustrated.”
Ha, what a joke. As if I haven’t been confused and frustrated ever since I first laid eyes on him. Well, not first , because that technically would’ve been years ago. But after returning to New York.
“Try me,” I say.
“Enzo Caruso is more dangerous than I let on.”
“He’s a criminal, right?” I cut in. “Those guys in his club, they looked like criminals.”
“Yeah, he’s a criminal. I wanted to meet with you because I need you to know that my actions at the meeting might’ve put you in danger. When I stood up for you, I think it made Enzo believe I’ve got feelings for you.”
Do you have feelings for me? Perhaps I’d ask that in a different universe, an upside-down world that makes no sense. Instead, I murmur, “Okay…”
“I need you to be careful,” he goes on. “Be aware of your surroundings. Stay in public places or your home. If you think anything’s wrong, call me. Don’t text.”
“Shouldn’t I call the cops?”
“It’d be better to call me.”
My mind pieces things together. “Are you a criminal, too, uncle?”
He comes to an abrupt stop at a red light. My seatbelt cuts into me. I gasp. “Jerk.”
“Sorry,” he says huskily.
Was it the fact I called him ‘uncle’? Maybe he doesn’t like that. Or was it because it reminded him of how impossible this is?
“You didn’t answer my question,” I say. When he clamps down, refusing to answer, I snap, “Probably because it’s obvious. That was the bait Enzo was trying to feed me. Barbarian. Nightmare. They sound like criminal nicknames to me. Do you work as a lawyer for their organization, whatever it is, then? Is that it? Is it the mob?” He flinches. “It is the mob.”
“You don’t need to know all the details,” he grinds out, pulling away from the red light.
“But I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Trust me, Arria. You don’t want to keep digging.”
“What do you do for them?” I persist.
“I do nothing anymore,” he bursts out. “But I used to, years ago, and Enzo loves reminding me of that fact.”
“What did you do, then?”
He suddenly pulls into an alleyway, leaves the car, and climbs into the back. He leans over, staring down at me. His scent washes over me. Musky. Manly. Addictive. “I did bad things,” he says. “I didn’t want to, but my father was sick, and my mother was an addict, and I needed to pay for both of their care. In the end, it didn’t matter because they both died anyway. But by then, it was too late. I was already in. I’m not making excuses. I’ve hurt people, Arria.”
“What people?” I whisper.
“Men. Evil men. But still, people. I’ve bloodied these goddamn hands. I’m telling you this so you listen to me. You need to be aware . And you need to pretend that everything is okay. It probably will be. But I had to—if I didn’t warn you—if something happened to you,” he shudders, shaking his head.
I put my hand on his chest—big mistake. I feel how solid he is through the thin fabric of his shirt, and I feel his heart pounding just as hard as mine. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
“You don’t know that. You can’t.”
He touches my hand and presses it harder against his chest. What are we doing? It’s like we’re both intoxicated.
“I shouldn’t even have told you this much, but if something happens, I don’t want you to be completely blindsided. I want you to know I’m here for you.”
“That means a lot,” I whisper, my head swimming. “This is crazy.”
We’re still sort of holding hands. He leans even closer and stares right into my eyes. This married man. My uncle. Twice my age. This man who stood up for me, not just against a club owner, but a criminal, a mobster.
“I know. Like I said, I didn’t want to tell you any of this. I shouldn’t be telling you. But you need to know what’s going on just in case. And now I need to ask you the most important part.”
“What?” I whisper.
Is he aware that we are still touching? Does he realize I can feel his heartbeat, drumming hard, as if in response to our closeness? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that I’m screaming inside. Does he care?
“You can’t tell anybody. Not your mom or your dad. Not your friends. No one. You need to keep this to yourself.”
Suddenly, I snap out of my stupor and pull my hand away. “That’s why you wanted to meet in secret. In person. Because now, I’ve got no way to prove anything you’re saying. I can’t show them any of your texts. People will think I’m crazy…” Crazier than I am. I don’t add that last part. “You asked me to trust you blindly, but you didn’t want to offer me the same treatment.”
“You need to be mature about this.”
“What’s that? A dig at my age? I’m twenty-one, not a little kid.”
“I know you’re not a goddamn kid ,” he snarls, with the same energy as when he clapped back at me for calling him ‘uncle.’ He doesn’t seem to like any reference to the off-limits aspects between us. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”
“Why?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He looks away. “You’re an innocent woman. You’re not involved in the criminal underworld. I’ve always done my best to protect civilians. Arria, what did they call me before I became known as ‘The Savior?’ Nico the Nightmare . I’ve always thought both nicknames were a joke, but there’s truth in both of them. I’ve always done my best to protect people.”
“Is that all this is?”
He glares at me. For a split second, I get a preview of what he must’ve been like when he worked for the mob. Then his expression softens a little. “Just let me protect you. I’m doing my best, Arria. You say I’m not trusting you, but that’s not true. I have to be careful. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t tell you anything. I’d let it all come as a shock. You need to promise me you’ll take precautions. You’ll be safe.”
“I will,” I say. “Not that I’m happy with any of this. I know there’s more you’re not telling me.”
That’s hypocrisy at its finest. I still don’t know what to do about the bombshell of his wife cheating on him.
“I should take you someplace you can catch a cab,” he says with a tired sigh.
“Do you think we’re being followed?”
“No, but Enzo might have somebody watching your house. I don’t think it’s likely. But like I said, if anything happened to you…”
He takes my hand, which is resting on my leg. Then he groans and moves his touch from my hand to my leg, squeezes, a sizzling sensation dancing up my thigh and straight to my core. I close my legs, but not to stop him. It’s like I’m trapping the feeling. It’s so much sweeter than it was in my fantasy.
“I’m thinking of doing something I shouldn’t,” he says huskily. Is he aware his hand is sliding higher and higher up my leg?
“What?” I whisper.
“This.”
He leans in for a kiss.