Page 42 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Ettore: I want you to unload. I can carry the weight. I can help.

Mara: What about your parents? Were you close?

She’s changing the subject, but I can’t blame her. I can’t expect her to share with me if I’m not willing to do the same. But it’s tough.

Ettore: My father was like me. He was in the same profession. He and my mother had the same arrangement as Vera and I. I never saw love between them. I never felt it from my father. It was duty, duty, duty. As messed up as it sounds, he did it for the right reasons. In his day, the city was in a far worse state. He fought, tooth and nail, to bring in a slice of heaven. Now, I’m continuing their legacy.

Mara: That sounds complicated. But I’m happy he taught you to do good.

Ettore: More good than bad, anyway. Or good via bad, sometimes. It must’ve been tough, Mara, not having an identity growing up.

Mara: Oh, I had so many. I had more personalities than an actor. I tried to be everybody and ended up being nobody. At some point in my twenties, I decided to just stop trying to be anything except decent. I fail sometimes. But I try.

Ettore: You’re more than decent. You’re one of the kindest, most empathetic people I’ve ever met.

Mara: It’s so strange to see you talk like this sometimes, over text. In person, you’re terrifying sometimes.

Ettore: Old habits die hard. But you never need to be scared of me.

Mara: I’m scared of this entire situation. Who you are. What you want to make me do. What will happen to Sylvie if we can’t get this under control.

Ettore: I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier. But I can’t say I regret it either.

Mara: I don’t regret it either. But we’ve come so close to going all the way. I don’t think we can cross that line safely.

Ettore: Maybe the danger is what we want, what we need. On some level. A level we shouldn’t let ourselves indulge in.

Mara: You’re right. It excites me.

Ettore: But if we cross that line, if I claim your perfect body, we won’t be able to stop. Once we truly taste each other.

Mara: Stop, Ettore. I’m working.

I feel disgusted with myself. Of course she is. And here I am, getting a hard-on at my desk.

Ettore: I’m sorry about your parents. I’m sorry about your aunt. I’m sorry the world is such a cruel, cruel place sometimes.

I place my phone down, try to focus on the documents. Fail. A minute later, my phone rings.

It’s Mark.

“Yeah?”

“It was Dante Orsini,” he says.

“Dante… Ruggero’s man?”

“Hmm-mm,” Mark grunts. “He’s on CCTV meeting with Detective Tuffin the day before our meet. Roughing him up. Looks pretty clear he was trying to intimidate him, make him lie about their Cartel shit story.”

“Motherfucker,” I snarl. “Stay available. We’re handling this today.” I hang up and call Ruggero.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We’re meeting at the basement. Danti Orsini is going to be there.”

A pause. “Is that an order, old friend?”

“Three hours, maximum,” I snap.And you better pray you had nothing to do with this.