Page 62 of Texting My Mafia Boss

I turn, realizing he’s lying. He’s still looking at me like he’s ready to devour me a second time. My body is aching, but I honestlythink I could do it again. Once the kissing and the touching get started… He smirks, like he knows what I’m thinking.

“Calvi,” I say. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

He approaches, lowering his voice. “I need to search you again.”

I push my hand against his chest, feeling his muscles swell against me. My body won’t give me a break. Now we’ve opened Pandora’s Box, the lid doesn’t want to shut.

“You’re going to have to trust me. I’m not recording you. I’d never do that.”

He swallows. “That would be a foolish decision for a man in my position to make.”

“More foolish than fucking your nanny on your big fancy desk?”

He smiles, brushing his hand across my face. “There was nothing foolish about how you were riding my dick.”

I turn my gaze away. “So vulgar. So gross.”

But I don’t mean it. His husky words activate the lust in me, somehow, impossibly, like two orgasms aren’t enough. Like we could stay in this office for weeks and never stop until we’re both melted messes.

He takes a step back. Sighs. “I trust you,” he says.

“You don’t sound so happy about it.”

“Because I shouldn’t,” he replies. “But I believe you when you say you won’t betray me, won’t betray Sylvie.”

“You’re one of the good guys, remember?”

He shakes his head. “I never said that. I said I do good things, sometimes, but use bad methods.”

“Hell to heaven, yeah, I got all that.”

“I’m not a hero,” he snarls. “I’m a man who’s given large parts of himself to the shadows. I’m never getting them back. I’ve—gone all the way, Mara, and I’m not talking about what we did on that desk.”

I swallow. I know what he means. He’s killed people. “Were you justified?” I ask.

“Would that make a difference?”

“Yes, actually, yes it would.”

He grinds his teeth. “I was justified. That’s why so many people in this world hate me. They want me in the muck with them.”

“I need to know about Calvi,” I tell him. “My neighbor told me my parents borrowed money from him to help a friend. They couldn’t pay back. Then my aunt took up the debt.”

“I think your aunt wanted to keep you away from all that,” he says.

I stumble back, shocked. “So you knew, all this time?”

“I don’tknowanything,” he says fiercely. “One of my men got his hands on some loan sharks records. That’s sloppy work, so I’m not sure if they are real. We’re in the middle of a skirmish and they’re trying all sorts of trickery. It would be reasonable to assume this was more bullshit.”

“But why?”

“To try and make me distrust you. To make me think you’re a Calvi spy.”

“What?”I look at this man, my new lover, and wonder if this really has become my life. “You think I’m spying for another mob organization?” Just saying that makes me feel dizzy with how surreal it is.

“This is an insane coincidence,” he says, shrugging. “Your family being linked to my biggest adversary, not that my wife is gone. But no, I never thought you were spying. One of my men mentioned it might be a possibility. As for your aunt, what I said about her keeping you out of the life, well—it’s common sense. Who would want to be part of this life?”

“So, what do you know, exactly?” I say, walking right up to him. But not touching, because I know where that will lead. And I’m aching for it again already.