Dark Mafia Heir: Chapter 22

“Iknow the difference.”

Startled, I raise my head to find Dario smiling. Across the table, he’s seated cross-legged, flipping through a magazine like a gentleman.

“What?”

Keeping his eyes on whatever it is he’s looking at, the pages of the papers rustle when he flips again. “I said I know the difference. You know, when we meet to discuss business, and when the problem is your woman, there’s a difference. And I know it.”

Clenching my jaw, I grab a pen, and start clicking it. “Good for you.”

“Interesting.” He turns the pages again. “I also know that, if you keep it all bottled up inside, it’s going to distract you. Best you let it out now.”

I am not the sharing type, but I’m also not the type to condone distractions when we have more important things to take care of. So, if sharing was going to help offload the shit, then I’ll share.

I’d never done it before. I’d never had to do that to her, regardless of her excesses. But last night, she’d crossed the line, and I got upset more at myself than her for feeling betrayed.

I reach for the magazine in Dario’s grasp and snatch it away. When his eyes meet mine, I tilt backward. “I locked her up.”

Dario’s brows twitch disapprovingly. “You locked her up. You do realize she’s your wife now, not your fucking whore or prisoner.”

“I know what I did,” I snap, more harshly than I mean to, and rake a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly to rein myself in. “It’s not something I wanted to do.”

“Then why did you?”

“I made Agahta randomly leave her phone about in a place where anyone could easily find it.”

He shakes his head, understanding. “You set her up. Wanted to see if she’ll fall for it and betray you.”

“Great minds think alike. Only, she wasn’t thinking. She didn’t know I had that planned out.”

“And she fell for it.”

I nod, incessantly clicking on the pen to distract myself from remembering the fear and horror in her eyes when she saw me on the stairs, knowing I’d caught her.

“If that’s the case, what are we going to do?”

Dario loses me, and I’m back to asking, “What?”

“If I’m following, you just said you set up your wife. She fell for it, and betrayed you. In this context, I’m assuming a betrayal means calling reinforcements to spill her location and take her out of your custody, right? In summary, you’re probably someone’s moving target. Either that, or your wife is planning to silently leave you without killing you.”

I don’t answer. Maybe I can’t.

“I didn’t . . .” I trail off, and slam the fucking pen on the desk. Whoever said being honest with one’s self was easy?

Dario’s interest piques, and he leans forward.

“You didn’t what?”

“I didn’t hear the conversation.”

Momentarily, he’s stunned. Silence hangs between us, stretching for seconds more until a deep laughter I’m not sure I’ve ever heard pours from his lips.

“You didn’t. . . Are you fucking kidding me, Nio? You locked up your wife because of your shitty insecurities.”

The fuck?

“Insecurities? Dario, she took the fucking phone.”

“Doesn’t mean she called an airstrike on your mansion. Damn. You didn’t even hear her out or bother to get proof. Since when did you start acting on emotions? And don’t bother denying it. What you did is a clear sign that you acted on your feelings. You thought she intentionally wanted to hurt you, and you fought back the best you know how: by equally hurting her.”

“Dario—”

“You can’t keep running from this. From her. You’re not going to figure it out by locking her away or burying yourself in this work.” He gestures to the stacks of documents on my desk.

Running?

“Running from what exactly?”

“Okay,” he scratches his head. “Let’s take it from this angle. I’m going to ask you a question, ready?”

“No.”

“I’m asking anyway. Why the fuck do you care so much if she betrays you? Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s sticking a knife to your back, wouldn’t it?”

It wouldn’t, but I don’t answer aloud because I know where Dario’s heading, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it just yet.

“No answer?” he smiles. “I’ll help you, and I’ll be blunt: Don’t hold back, Nio. Give yourself a fucking chance—for once in your damn life. You’ve spent years building walls, shutting people out. Maybe it’s time to let someone in. Go against your strict rules, and just fall in love.”

Fall. In. Love.

It’s the strangest thing anyone has ever told me, ever advised me to do. I don’t even know how to fucking react to it, and, when I try to press on with more questions, Dario changes the subject like he didn’t just drop a fucking bomb.

“Russo’s hosting a party. Big one. The kind where people talk too much after too much wine.”

“We were just talking about⁠—”

“How you should bring your wife out of captivity? I thought we were done with that?”

The sly curve on his lips tells me the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing, playing a fast one when the seed has already been sown.

“And what about the party?”

I’m grateful for the distraction.

“We need to be there. He’s been cozying up to some new faces lately. Potential links we can’t afford to miss. And maybe we’d finally get to uncover something helpful.”

I nod. “Fine. We’ll go. Keep your ears open.”

Dario stands, his usual smirk returning. “Always do.”

As he heads for the door, he stops and glances back at me. “Think about what I said, Antonio. You can’t protect her and keep her at arm’s length. One of those is going to give.”

When the door closes behind him, his words linger, pressing against the guilt I already feel, and I’m forced to confront what I’ve been avoiding.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe it’s really time to let someone in.

Luca is driving when I meet his gaze through the rearview mirror to tell him about my meeting with Dario, and the man’s advice.

I expect Luca to be the most concerned one, more serious. I expect him to offer other advice, one that would feed my counter-thoughts to convince me that Dario didn’t know shit about what he was talking about.

But Luca literally swerves the car to the corner of the road and steps on the brakes to laugh his heart out.

I sit awkwardly at the back, wondering whether or not to whack the back of his head with a bunch of folders I grabbed from the office.

When he raises his forehead from the wheel, I glare at him through the rearview. “Done?”

He leans back in the passenger seat, arms crossed, his smirk annoying as hell. “Done? No. I’m just getting started. This is my session now, and I say you should do something sweet for her.”

I keep my eyes on the road, because I might blow someone’s brains out, and it won’t be mine.

“Sweet?” I narrow my eyes at him. “Like what?”

He waves a hand like he’s reciting from a checklist. “Flowers. Chocolate. Something fucking romantic, I don’t know.”

I grunt.

Romance has never been my strong suit. If I wanted to impress someone, I’d handle it the way I handle everything else—directly, efficiently. But with Vivienne, nothing feels straightforward.

“Try again. I’m not the hearts and flowers type.”

“You’re telling me?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He laughs, loud and obnoxious, again. “It means women like that stuff, Antonio. You might not be the type, but you have to go out of your way to do it. That’s what makes it special, the effort.”

I stare at him like he’s grown two heads overnight. When did Luca become the love master?

I don’t say anything, but with a roll of my eyes, I give him the go-ahead, and together, we go out of our way.

The car slows as we pass a flower shop, the kind with buckets of blooms spilling onto the sidewalk. My eyes land on a bouquet of red roses, their petals so vivid they almost glow under the streetlights.

I point at it. “The roses. What do you think?”

Luca grins. “Classic.”

He pulls over, and my gaze lands on something even more ridiculous as we step out.

A massive teddy bear sitting in the shop’s window. It’s at least four feet tall, fluffy, and wearing a red bow around its neck.

“Luca,” I call his attention to the bear. “That’s good, right?”

Luca leans out the window, takes one look, and bursts out laughing. He laughs loud enough to drag stares towards our direction.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why not? Women like stuffed animals.”

“Yeah, but that thing is bigger than her!”

I ignore him and head into the shop, grabbing the roses and pointing to the bear. The cashier looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but rings it up without comment. By the time we get back to the car, Luca is doubled over, still laughing.

“You’re serious about this?” he shoots a glimpse at the bear, wiping at his eyes as I shove the bear into the backseat. Its head lolls forward, almost brushing the dashboard.

With a growl, I toss the roses on the passenger seat. “Shut the fuck up and drive.”

He snickers the whole ride back, but I block it out, focusing instead on how Vivienne might react. Romantic gestures might not be my thing, but if this stupid bear and a bunch of flowers make her smile, it’ll be worth it.

We get to the house and I brush past Luca, grabbing the huge bear and flowers up to her room.

I unlock the door. Pushing it open, I step inside. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. Red hair falls forward, framing her face, but her head snaps up when she sees me.

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

My conversation with Dario plays like a broken record in my mind: Maybe it’s time to let someone in, and I hold up my gifts like sacrifices that can fix everything.

“I brought these.”

A softness fleets through her gaze as they land on them, but she doesn’t reach for them right away.

I set them on the nightstand and stand there, awkward, feeling out of place in my own space.

“I was wrong.” I slide my hands into my pockets to stop them from fidgeting. “About how I handled it.”

She doesn’t respond, just watches me with those eyes of hers.

“I’m sorry.”

Vivienne’s lips press together, and for a second, I think she’s going to turn me away. But then she nods, slow, almost hesitant, and something in my chest loosens.

“I don’t blame you. I just wish you’d heard me out first.”

“You wanted me to apologize before you were going to say anything, weren’t you?”

That familiar mischievous twinkle appears in her eyes for a brief second, before it fades off.

Cautiously, I take a step closer. “We’re okay?”

Slowly, she nods. “I called my sister.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, close enough to feel her warmth but not close enough to touch.

I want to trust her.

God, I want to believe every word that comes out of her mouth, but my world doesn’t work that way.

Still, as I look at her now, I feel an ache I can’t ignore, and I know that it’s not just guilt or the need to make things right.

It’s her.

I’m falling for her, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing.

If it isn’t, then she will definitely be the beginning of my undoing.