Page 5 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Livia’s voice falters. “I was only jesting, Ettore.”

“We’re hiring her for Sylvie. Who cares howcuteshe is? I’ve never understood that phrase. Cute as a button. What’s cute about a goddamn button?”

“Very well, sir. Consider the matter done. Anything else?”

I want to tell her I’m sorry, but she hangs up before I get the chance to answer her question. I massage the bridge of my eyebrows, checking the time. There’s half an hour until the meeting is supposed to begin.

These displays of power might look small, yet in this life, all things are insignificant, and mobsters are among the most sensitive people around.

I turn to my desk and slowly sift through my email, reviewing the resumes Livia sent over.

A twinge of guilt hits me as I realize I haven’t opened this email before

I find Mara Keene’s file, open it, then click the link that takes me to her professional page.

Livia wasn’t wrong.

There is something about her. Soft-looking auburn hair, wide, green-grayish eyes, wise beyond her years. A full mouth, fixed in a professional smile. But there’s something else about it. A twitch at the corners.

Her knowing look makes me eager to uncover the joke.

The image cuts off her shoulders, and I desperately want to know what the rest of her looks like.

Her eyes are captivating, no mistake there. There’s something haunted about them. But hopeful too.

We’ve got the same goal for my daughter, for her to be seen. That’s all that matters.

I close the laptop and stride across the room. Mara lingers in my mind until I open the door and nod to the assembled mafiosos. “Gentlemen.”

I turn, returning to my chair. My underboss, Mark, walks in first, adjusting his suit jacket. His corporate attire doesn’t quite suit his twice-broken nose and violent demeanor.

Five men follow. Ruggero Calvi, pushing seventy, the only other man wearing a crisp suit. He’s the boss of the Calvi Family, his eyes almost black, like he’s seen too much to ever let any light in. Bastian Calvi comes in next, wearing a leather jacket, fidgety and baby-faced. He’s Ruggero’s nephew.

Then there’s the leader of Ruggero’s biggest crew, Dante Orsini, hawk-nosed, with the soft speech and empty expression. He always rubs me the wrong way. Two of Dante’s men, thugs really, Piero and Ugo, flank his shoulders.

“Any more of you waiting out there for me?” I say, smirking at Ruggero.

Ruggero smiles thinly. “Dante here was scared about walking into the inferno.”

I almost laugh at his referencing of the book. Dante narrows his eyes, taking out a cigarette. “I’m not scared of no fire.”

“You can’t smoke in here,” Mark says from behind me. Dante laughs, but Mark cuts in. “Don’t light that cigarette,friend.”

When Dante takes his lighter out anyway, I feel Mark move behind me. I raise my hand. Just an inch or two. It’s enough for him to get the message.

Ruggero turns to Dante. He says nothing, just looks at him. Dante huffs, tosses the unlit cigarette on the floor, then walks over to the window. His goons are sitting on the far side of the room, staring like they’re impressive. Being a boss is hard sometimes. In my younger years, I would’ve cracked their skulls.

“My apologies, Ettore,” Ruggero says. “Wild men often make the best earners.”

I nod. “I can appreciate that. So, why did you want to see me?”

“I’d like to formalize our alliance. Again. Reinforce it really.” Ruggero leans forward, moving slowly. He’s not taking care of his health, and it shows. His nephew leans forward as if ready to catch him. “I know you were devastated by Vera’s death.”

That’s not exactly the word I’d use, but I’m not going to get into all that now.

“But we had something there. A connection.”

My late wife was a cousin associated with the Calvi Family. She wasn’t a big player, but there was enough of a connection there to make peace easier. Until she died in a car crash that’s always seemed suspicious to me. In our world, people don’t die for no reason. There’s always someone somewhere sharpening their blade.