Page 49 of Texting My Mafia Boss

Ettore: Has Sylvie eaten?

Mara: I’m going to make her something when she’s done practicing. I keep warning her not to tire herself out. Soon, it will be time for some discipline.

Ettore: Don’t be afraid to be stern if you need to. I don’t want her to be spoiled. I want her to leave this house, one day, functional, realistic, and capable. Like you.

Mara: She’s a good girl. She listens. She doesn’t need a stern hand most of the time.

I smile. It’s so much easier when we’re talking about my daughter.

Mara: Maybe this is it, Ettore. We’ll draw the line here, before we went cuckoo, and after.

Ettore: Are you saying you want to end things? Because I’m not sure I can do that.

I read then reread the message, debating if I should send it. She’s right. I might be fifteen years older, but she’s being the mature one. The problem is, our chemistry doesn’t give a single damn about our noble intentions. It’s difficult enough to hold back over text, let alone in person.

I delete that message and send something more important instead.

Ettore: Sylvie has to come first.

She reacts with a heart, then replies.

Mara: Agreed.

I’m woken at 2 AM by a call from Mark. “I’ve found Piero Falco,” he says.

I sit up. “Good.”

“Dead, strung up, with the wordRATcarved across his chest.”

Dammit. Piero was one of Dante’s most loyal men.

“Is there a chance he really was a rat?” I ask.

“If I look into that, it’ll trigger alarm bells. It’s been hard doing this without anyone knowing. I had to hire a PI through a fake identity. A snubbed girlfriend looking for her man.”

“Good work,” I reply. “You’re right. Try and find Ugo instead. And be discreet. Any update on the other thing?”

“Nothing yet, but we’re digging,” he says. “What angle are you thinking about here? Do you think your new nanny is working with another Family? Do you think she’s a spy?”

“What?” My voice has gone cold.

It’s not often Mark sounds scared, but this is one of those times. “I—just thought it’d help. To know where your thoughts are at.”

“You don’t need to know that,” I say coldly. “Just look for any connection. The neighbor said something, made hints. That’s it. You think Mara is aspy?” I feel sick, furious, ready to break a limb. “Shewas shocked when this bastard said what he said.She’sconfused by it. Doesn’t know what the hell’s going on. Why would she come to me with this information, share it with me, if she were a spy?”

“Okay, Ettore. You’re right.”

“Think before you speak,” I snap. “Or I’ll find an underboss who can.”

“Jesus,” Mark mutters.

I almost apologize, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“Do you need me for anything else?” he asks.

“No,” I tell him.

I hang up, massaging my forehead. My head is pulsing and my thoughts are spinning. I shouldn’t be so certain I can trust Mara. I shouldn’t find the idea so ridiculous. Infiltrating my estate via a nanny would be a clever tactic.