Page 52 of Texting My Mafia Boss

She follows my gaze, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Sure, but remember, you don’t know everything.”

“I know he broke that little girl’s heart.”

Livia steps close, lowering her voice to a hiss. “One wrong move on his part can havedrasticconsequences. We’re not talking about margins on a stock portfolio or falling behind on a construction project.”

“Life or death, is that what you’re saying?”

She scowls. “He’s your boss. If nothing else will calm you down, that should.”

“Who said I wasn’t calm?” I snap, striding down the aisles, pushing past people, barely able to sayexcuseme without my voice trembling.

I find the staircase to the booth. Ettore is coming down the stairs as I’m walking up. I march right up to him and go to point my finger in his face. He catches my wrist like it’s nothing. When I surge against him, he crowds me in like he thinks I’m trying to attack him. The physical heat burns between us as usual.

“Easy, Mara.”

“What wasthat?” I demand.

“You need to take a breath.”

“She thought you’d abandoned her. Were you there the entire time?”

“I got here five minutes late. Sped through the city like the devil was chasing me. I figured it’d be better not to disturb everyone. I saw the whole thing, got it on video too so I can show her.”

I’m breathing hard. “Do you have any idea how upset she was? Did you see the look on her face?”

“She was smiling the whole time.”

I try to pull, still seething. “Let me go,” I snap.

“Are you going to relax?”

“I’m not going to hit you. I don’t want to touch you.”

He smirks. “Sure you don’t,” he says sarcastically.

I take a step back, breathing hard. Eventhatcloseness, in this context, does unfair things to me. And to him. We share a long, heated look, as all our close calls flash across our minds. I know he’s thinking it too. It’s pure hunger, sizzling in the air.

“She wasn’t smiling the whole time,” I say. “She was forcing a smile onto her face, but she glanced at your empty chair multiple times. She looked like she was going to cry.”

“I’ll explain to her,” he says. “She’ll be happy when she sees the video.”

“You promised her you’d be there.”

“And Iwashere.”

“But—”

“Are you sure this is about her?”

I aim my finger at him. “You shut your mouth right now, Ettore.”

He grabs my wrist and pulls me against him. His other hand goes to my hips. I grip onto his shirt, then somehow, we’re kissing. I don’t even know who leans in first. It’s impossible andridiculous. In the midst of all this tension, we’re still magnetized to each other.

His hand glides around to my ass. I push against his chest, creating some distance from him. “What are you doing? We’re at your daughter’s ballet school.”

He swallows, pulls back, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I know—you’re right.”

“Get some self-control.”