Page 30 of Texting My Mafia Boss

“How are you doing? I’ve got a new girl, so don’t get jealous.” He winks, laughing obnoxiously. “Not to brag…” But he will anyway. “But she won Miss Kansas a few years back.”

“Okay,” I say, wanting this interaction to end as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, hands on his hips. “Is this little one your responsibility?”

He moves as if to tap on the glass, but I block his path.

“Don’t do that,” I tell him.

He gives me that classic Callum smirk that makes me want to tear my hair out. He’s always been so good at that, looking at me as if I’m the crazy one. They all are. I’m hesitant to throw the word around aloud, but in my head, I brand him a narcissist. He’s always right, and I’m always wrong, and if Iseemto be right—it’s because I’m mad.

He steps closer to me. “Jeez, Mara, what do you think I am? I heard through Lisa you landed some babysitting gig for a big-time rich guy. I’m happy for you.”

This is what they do. He never hit me. Never outwardly abused me. Just consistently and ruthlessly undermined me every chance he had.

“If you’re happy, turn around and walk away.”

I’m shocked at myself. And proud.

But he doesn’t move away. He steps closer.

“Why do you have to be like this?” he says, voice hard. “You know, I never wanted us to end. I always thought we had more to give each other. But now, I’m not so?—”

A passerby grabs Callum by the collar and yanks him away from me. It’s a crazy sight, this big man being flung backward. My savior is wearing a full tracksuit, his hair slicked back, a gold watch on his wrist.

“Might be a good idea to walk away, my guy,” the man says.

Callum looks down at the man, and his smirk falters. I can tell Callum wants to use his size to bully the man, and while he may be tall, there’s something about my savior’s energy that stops him.

“You’ve got the wrong idea here.”

“See, me?” the man says. “I’m not much of a baseball fan. I don’t like the three-strike thing. For me, one strike is all it takes.” The man looks up at Callum. He’s older, wrinkled, and tanned. And he’s somehow terrifying.

Callum bows his head, turns, and walks away muttering to himself.

“Uh, thank you,” I murmur.

The man inclines his head. “Don’t mention it, ma’am.”

He turns and walks away, leaving me confused. The confusion gets even worse when I see Sylvie waving at him through the window. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him—or upset by what she just witnessed.

I climb into the car. “Do you know him?” I ask.

Sylvie folds her arms and starts humming. “Can we get ice cream?”

I start the engine.

CHAPTER 12

ETTORE

“Are they safe?” I ask, my instincts roaring at me to find him. To break his face and every other bone in his useless body for daring to get close to my woman and my baby. With this rage surging through me, I don’t even find it ridiculous. Thinking of her asmy woman.

“Yes, boss,” Emmet says. “They’re on their way back to the estate now.”

“Did you have to reveal you were personal security?”

“Think she might’ve assumed I was some Good Samaritan. Sylvie waved at me though.”