Page 9 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Mara: I’m sorry, sir, that wasn’t appor

I stop. He hasn’t replied, but he’s reacted with a thumbs up to my text.

Letting out a sigh of relief and stand. Okay. I got away with that. But I shouldn’t do that again.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling… Ettore had that same haunted look in his eyes, past the smirk, the politeness, and firm body. The same look Sylvie sometimes gets, like she’s waiting for it all to go wrong. Maybe I can help with that. Maybe I can make a difference.

Livia knocks heavily on my door. “Sylvana is awake. We’re not paying you to sleep.”

“I wasn’t…” I trail off. There’s no point correcting her. She strikes me as someone who enjoys being mad.

I open the door and walk into the corridor. Livia is already gone. Sylvie is in the sunroom, looking down at my knitting with intense concentration.

She’s got a pink ribbon in her hair.

“That’s beautiful,” I say, nodding to it.

She beams up at me. “Thank you. Daddy gave it to me!”

“Oh, wonderful,” I say. “When?”

“Just now, silly,” she replies.

I smile. Okay, time to calm down, Mara. This girl is loved and cared for. No more bringing your baggage into the workplace.

“Can we try again?” she asks, pointing to my knitting.

“That’s the only way to get good at something. Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER 4

ETTORE

Iwalk over scattered diamonds and crushed glass. The store is a mess. The display cabinets – which are reinforced – have been caved in completely. Jewelry lies everywhere. All the doors have been ripped off the hinges. It’s like a wild animal was let loose in here.

“Nothing was taken,” Mark says, chewing his gum thoughtfully. “I mean, we’ll have to check. But the manager says he’s certain everything’s here. If they took anything, it’s not noticeable. We’ll know more when we do a full inventory.”

I massage my forehead, breathing out deliberately slow. “Thoughts?”

“A message.”

“Hmm. But what are they saying, and who’s saying it? I’m assuming they took the security tapes.”

“They held the manager at gunpoint and made him erase them, along with the backups for that night.”

“Do you think he’s lying?”

Mark considers this. That’s one of the things I like about him. That’s why he serves a dual role, really, underboss and my consigliere, though I have a consigliere in name. A man who knows to defer to Mark. Mark understands that accusing this manager of lying would mean breaking his bones to make him talk.

“I don’t think so,” he says. “He was behaving how honest men have behaved with me before. He wasn’t acting like a liar.”

“So, he’s either telling the truth or a very good liar.”

“What would he have to gain?” Mark asks. “Nothing’s gone. I doubt he’d get paid for helping with this mess. And anyway, whoever did this doesn’t need his help. They kicked the door right off the hinges.”

I nod. It’s true. “Get a few of the boys in here. Clean this place up. Search it for any clear messages.”

I leave the store and walk across the street to my car. My phone vibrates. I take it out, then smile, shocked at how easily she can do that. I quickly kill it before my driver sees. Someone is poking our Family, probing. I can’t let them see me smiling at a time like this.