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None of them ever mattered.
But Daria Cole...
Daria was the one thing I could never get over.
Seeing her again, in person, was different. I knew what she looked like from pictures, videos, the ways I kept tabs on her without her knowing. She didn't know how I looked now, but I knew everything about her.
Where she worked. What she liked. What streets were unsafe. Who she talked to. Who looked at her the wrong way.
I kept her safe from a distance. Always.
I avoided seeing her because being close to me was a risk. Anyone around a new mafia king was a fucking target.
I needed time to establish myself, to know who I could trust, to make sure the men under me understood that hurting her meant losing their head. Literally.
Now I was in control.
Now no one dared to touch her.
Now I could see her.
And I did.
And she was still soft. Still living in her own world. Still untouched by the kind of monsters I dealt with every day. I wanted to keep it that way. Keep her innocent. Keep her safe. She could never see the world I lived in. She wasn't meant for blood.
But seeing her in that dress...
Seeing how she had grown into her body...
It wasn't easy keeping my hands to myself.
If she ever knew the kinds of things I thought about when she wore those types of dresses... she'd never speak to me again.
She still thought of me as her best friend. That was the part that fucked with me the most. She said it casually, teased me with it, called me "bestie" like she wasn't talking to a man who could wipe out a room in under a minute.
Enzo thought it was hilarious.
"Bestie," he'd whisper, laughing his ass off.
A monster, a king, a killer... and to her, I was just best friend.
Nobody else needed to know how badly that word got to me.
Seeing her again was worse than I thought it would be. She smelled good. She looked beautiful. Her black hair was longer. Her skin was still warm-toned, glowing in the sun. Her lips fuller than I remembered.
Still beautiful.
But it wasn't her looks that made her unforgettable. It was everything she was. Kind. Sweet. Gentle with everyone, even with someone like me.
She sat next to me in the car, quiet. Too quiet. She always talked when she was nervous. Now she was silent. It was almost too much. I had to get myself under control, because the last thing I needed was to embarrass myself like some horny teenage idiot.
And her little sister...
Lizzy stared at me like she could read every thought in my head.
She was intimidating. Even for me.
But Daria didn't notice. She never noticed the way I looked at her. The way I watched over her. The way I didn't let anything touch her.
She had no idea what she did to me.
And she never would.
Not if I could help it.
Lizzy practically skipped down the sidewalk like she had sugar in her veins. Daria walked beside her, fixing her hair every two seconds like she was nervous. She always did that when she didn't know what to expect.
She still didn't realize I had planned all of this.
The cafe wasn't anything flashy. Small corner spot with pink chairs outside, plants hanging from the ceiling, warm lights in the windows.
The kind of place she used to talk about in high school.
The one she'd walk to alone sometimes after class, pretending she wasn't sad that no one else went with her.
She still came here. I knew that much.
Of course I did.
Lizzy spotted the sign first.
"Oh my gosh, Daria, look! It's your favorite place!"
Daria turned to me instantly, eyes wide.
"Wait. Nico... how did you know we were coming here?"
I shrugged.
No explanation. No smile. No guilt.
Because the truth was simple.
I knew every place she loved.
I knew everywhere she went.
I knew this cafe was where she spent most Saturdays, studying or reading or escaping the house in College.
Daria stared at me a moment longer, trying to understand something she couldn't quite piece together.
Then she smiled. Confused yet sweet.
Inside, the cafe was quiet. Warm lighting, soft music, the smell of pastry and cinnamon. Not crowded. Just enough people to keep Lizzy entertained. She was way too hyper.
The moment we stepped in, the owner looked up and straightened like he'd seen a celebrity.
"Good evening, Mr. Costa. Your table is ready."
Daria's head whipped toward me.
"What?" she mouthed silently.
I didn't answer. The owner led us upstairs to a small loft area with cozy lounge chairs, fairy lights, and a window that overlooked the street.
Lizzy gasped like she'd entered a palace.
"Nico. This is so pretty. Did you do this?"
"No," I said. "They did."
The owner appeared with menus, but set a pink drink in front of Daria first. She blinked down at it.
"My favorite?" she whispered.
Her vanilla-rose latte.
Half sweet.
Extra ice.
Whipped cream.
One swirl of caramel.
Of course it was her favorite. I knew that. I remembered that from a conversation we had.
She looked at me again, suspicious now. I knew her better than she realized.
"Nico, seriously... how did you know that?"
Another shrug.
"Lucky guess."
She didn't believe me.
She shouldn't.
She lifted the drink and took a sip anyway. Her eyes softened the same way they used to when she found a new book she loved. She looked happy. That was all I cared about.
Lizzy grabbed a seat at the far side of the table, already flipping through the dessert menu like it was the first time she'd seen it.
Daria sat across from me, still watching me like she wanted to read my face.
"You remember everything," she said quietly.
I didn't answer.
I just watched her hold that drink like it belonged in her hands.
If she knew how much I remembered, she'd run.
He might be totally obsessed ??
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