Page 55 of Texting My Mafia Boss

“I’m having breakfast with my family,” I snap. “What is it?”

Mark sighs. “Ettore…”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve known you for a long time.”

“I don’t need the preamble,” I say.

“I’ve never heard you like this. You get mad sometimes, sure, but you always speak to your men with respect.”

I massage my forehead.I can speak to you any damn way I want. I could say that, and it would be true. There’s nothing forcing me to be decent toward him. Except, well, my own decency.

“You’re right,” I sigh.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying you’re hurting my damn feelings. No feelingstohurt. But?—”

“I get it. It’s bad from a tactical point of view. I’ve never led through fear. Well, fear alone. Go ahead.”

“I looked into Mara Keene’s parents. It turns out they borrowed a great deal of money from a well-known loan shark back in the day. I’m not sure exactly who this fella was affiliated with, or if he was a lone operator. But I got ahold of some of his handwritten records thanks to a rat with sticky fingers. The records mention the couple, deceased, and a woman who was Mara’s aunt, also deceased now. There’s a note that reads,Can the daughter pay?With a smiley face next to it. Not sure if it’s a joke or what.”

“Handwritten records,” I murmur. “Can we trust those? What sort of idiot keeps handwritten records just lying around for anyone to snatch?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I should have more information soon.”

Through the window, I spot Mara watching me anxiously. She raises an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m okay. I force a smile and nod, giving her a thumbs up. Her relief touches me. She cares just because. Not because she wants to get anything out of me.

“Be careful,” Mark says. “It’s my job to remind you that you’ve only known this woman for a short time.”

“Get everything you can get your hands on,” I snap. “I want all the information, not snippets. I’m suspicious about these paper records too.”

“What’s more likely, some forgetful old shark kept paper records, or that somebody planted them to make you suspicious of your nanny? What purpose would that serve?”

He’s right. Keeping paper records wouldn’t be intelligent. But this game is full of stupid people.

CHAPTER 21

MARA

Over the next week, I sense Ettore pulling away from me. We don’t text as often, and only ever about Sylvie. His replies are much shorter.

Ettore: I’m glad she’s doing well.

Ettore: You’re doing excellent work with my daughter.

Ettore: Let me know if she needs anything.

There aren’t any gaps for me to take the texting someplace else. Which is good—that’s what I tell myself.This is what I wanted. I’m shocked by how stung I feel, how betrayed almost. I’ve got no right to feel this way.

When I head downstairs for breakfast this morning, I pause outside the kitchen. Ettore is singing to his daughter, something in Italian, his voice deep, husky, and gorgeous. I linger here in secret, drinking in this version of him. Sylvie is giggling.

Even if he’s been more distant with me, he’s making an effort with his daughter. That’s the main thing, theonlything that matters.

I walk in. Ettore stops singing, his expression turning from warm and open to something else. Is he suspicious of me? About what? Or maybe he’s finally being a mature grownup, like we both agreed. I search him for any signs of desire or affection, and I’m stung when I don’t find any.

I feel like an idiot for applying makeup and straightening my hair again this morning. My summer dress, the kind that normally drives him visibly wild, seems to do nothing to him. It’s like he’s retreated inside himself when it comes to me, to us. Tous? Whatusis there?

I’ve made a difference in the family dynamic. I can see that with how much more effort Ettore is making with Sylvie. She was morose after the performance, but her mood is noticeably better now. Ettore has been reading to her most nights, and he’s made breakfast every day. That’s all that should – thatdoes– matter to me.