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)
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.”