Page 41 of Texting My Mafia Boss

“Daddy?” Sylvie calls, her footsteps pitter-pattering down the hallway.

We step away from each other like we’re on fire. But that doesn’t make sense, because part of me wants to burn.

“Do you wantlotsof pancakes?”

Ettore grins. “You know it.”

Once Sylvie is gone, Ettore lets out a shaky sigh.

“I’ll try to be good.”

“Don’t betoogood,” I say, then rush away before I can think about how hypocritical this is.

As we eat pancakes, Sylvie talks about her ballet recital and how much she’s been practicing. I don’t join in with the conversation as much as I normally would. I can’t stop thinking about what Gideon said, twisting through my head. I think Ettore was right when he said nobody gets over their childhood.

A few ominous words from an angry drunk and my thoughts won’t stop racing.

I look up to see Ettore looking at me, concern etched on his handsome face. He smiles softly, not a smirk, not a forced grin. A real smile, like we’re just two lost souls who have finally found meaning in this crazy world.

Then Sylvie talks again, and I’m reminded why we have to be careful. If we ever started a real relationship, breaking up would mean breaking her heart.

CHAPTER 16

ETTORE

I’m in my home office, trying to focus on some paperwork for the real estate deal. But my thoughts keep returning to how sad Mara looked over late-afternoon pancakes. She wasn’t like her usual self at all. Maybe it’s the games we’re playing with each other, the heat, the ice, everything in between.

I take out my phone.

Ettore: Did something happen today? You looked upset. If it was me, I’m sorry, Mara. I know this is difficult.

Mara: It IS difficult. But it wasn’t you. It’s complicated.

Ettore: I’m listening.

Mara: Well, you shouldn’t be.

Ouch. But she’s right. I keep saying we need emotional distance, but then I’ll reach out. I can’t help it.

Ettore: Tell me.

Mara: Is that an order from Mr. Hell or Mr. Heaven?

I laugh gruffly. I know what she’s saying. Is this the mob boss talking, or the legitimate businessman?

Ettore: Both.

I turn back to the document, awaiting her answer. The words blur on the page. None of it feels like it means a thing when Mara is stuck in limbo.

Mara: I had a strange run-in with my neighbor. He’s a drunk, and he’s been getting on at me about this fence. He broke it, but he thinks I should fix it. Anyway, he said something weird about my parents. He said that rich people know how to make people disappear, and my parents should’ve known that. I don’t get what he meant.

Ettore: That’s a strange thing to say. Do you have any idea what he could be talking about?

Mara: No, none. I didn’t know my parents. I can hardly remember them. I had an aunt – she left me the house – but I didn’t know that until I was already an adult. She abandoned me, left me to fend on my own.

I read this message, then another comes through immediately after.

Mara: Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload.