Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
I open the door. He walks inside, looking far more on edge than I’ve ever seen him. Unless he loses himself with me, getting steamy and wild, he usually seems in control. Now, his hands are shaking. He steps toward me, then abruptly stops when he notices Mom and Dad in the hall behind me.
Make no mistake. He was about to grab me and kiss me.
“We need to talk,” he says darkly. “All of us. Now.”
We’re an awkward collection of people, the four of us sitting around the kitchen table, steam from our coffees rising into the air. Dad’s eyes keep flitting between me and Nico, though I’m doing my best not to show any sign of what I’m feeling, to suppress any urge to grab Nico, clasp his hands, and tell him it’s all going to be okay.
“I’m sorry, Rocco,” Nico says. “I don’t want to cross any lines for you, but what I have to discuss involves the Carusos, and it involves your daughter.”
“You’ve got perfect timing, then,” Dad grunts. “I was just forced to tell my daughter about my old job.”
“I found a photo,” I explain. “From one of my birthday parties when I was a kid. Enzo was in it.”
Nico nods, then takes a slow sip of his black coffee. It must be scorching, but he doesn’t show any sign of the heat bothering him. Well, obviously, he’s all about heat… I need to focus.
“This evening, Dominic Caruso invited me for dinner. He seems to believe that…” Nico hesitates, putting his coffee mug down so hard Mom flinches. “He thinks something is going on between me and Arriana.”
He’s gone back to using Arriana as if we can use that as a shield to hide the affection between us.
Dad’s lips thin as he frowns. To anybody who doesn’t know him, he might not look that mad. But I recognize this as the expression he gets when he’s really, really pissed, and he might explode at any moment. “Why would he think anything is going on between you and my daughter, between you and your niece, Nico?”
Dad throws the titles at Nico. Daughter. Niece. All reminders of just how wrong this is.
Nico looks at me with a sigh. I nod.
“After Arriana had that run-in with Enzo at his club he forced her to apologize for defending her friend, in order to let the matter go. I was there, and Enzo made a cruel comment about Arriana. Against my better judgment, I stood up to the prick.”
“He made fun of my body,” I say. “He called me fat, basically, and Nico wouldn’t let him get away with it. I know it’s caused all these problems, but honestly, it was so nice to have somebody stand up for me. What right does he have to belittle my appearance?”
“You’re beautiful, Arria,” Mom says, touching my hand. She gives Nico an unsure smile as if she thinks showing him any kindness will set Dad off. “Thank you for doing that.”
“You’re right, though,” Dad grunts. “It was a mistake… and not like you, Nico. From everything I know about the Nightmare, you use your head. You make rational decisions. You don’t insult mafia princes.” Dad rests his elbows on the table. “So I’m asking you, man to man, is something going on between you and your niece… between you and a woman almost half your age… between you and my daughter who has never even had a boyfriend… between you and a young woman who has far, far, far less experience than you, Nico?”
“Dad,” I snap. “This isn’t about that. It’s about the mob who you lied about—”
“Let him answer,” Dad cuts in.
Nico looks at me, his eyebrow raised. Panic grips me. Nico is wordlessly asking me if we should tell the truth. But what truth, exactly? Are we going to tell Dad we’ve talked dirty, flirted, got physical and steamy? It’s not like we’ve even been on a date unless we count texting, which we can’t. I give a subtle—I hope—shake of my head.
“I’m sorry, Rocco,” Nico says. “But I didn’t come here to speak about this. I’m here to keep your family safe.”
“That’s as good as saying yes,” Dad snaps.
“It doesn’t matter right—” Nico cuts Dad off.
“It matters to me.”
“What matters,” Nico growls. “Is what Dominic Caruso thinks the facts are? I can’t take Lucia from the city without causing suspicion, but you’ve only been here a short while. You can go back to the West Coast, to California.”
I gasp. The idea of leaving Nico… shouldn’t matter. It should be easy. I was thinking about all that stuff —no date, no genuine closeness. But it doesn’t feel that way at all. It feels like something important would end somehow.
“I’ve got my dream job here,” Dad snaps. “A chance to build my business. Investors. Responsibilities. I can’t just leave.”