Page 8 of Willing Captive
Oh, look who it is. Deciding to play with him a little, I send Mattia’s call to voicemail. I set it up earlier when I was bored. As soon as the phone stops ringing, it goes off again, and there’s an excited flutter in my stomach. I decide to send the call to voicemail one more time for good measure.
“Ma’am—”
“Ahh!” I shout, and I’m so startled I almost slam into the wall behind me. “Where did you come from?”
“Shit, sorry.” He holds his hands up and takes a step back. “I came from over there.” The man points to where he was sitting just a second ago.
“What can I help you with?” I remember that this is a paying customer, so I put on a bright smile.
“Your phone keeps going off.” He nods to it on the counter.
“Yeah.” I shrug and wave it off. “New man,” I say and roll my eyes. “He’s obsessed with me. Can’t blame him, though, am I right?” I wink at him, and he takes another step back.
“Don’t wink at me,” he says quickly. “And maybe answer your phone.”
I don’t get a chance to respond to him before my phone rings again. It’s always strange when people can be more awkward than me, but I guess there’s all kinds out in the world.
“'Sup,” I say when I answer, playing it cool.
“You ignored my calls.”
“I was busy,” I say, pretending to inspect my nails, even though he can’t see me. “What can I help you with?”
“Do you think you’re going somewhere?”
“Huh?” I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “Like a date?”
“I meant skipping town.”
“Ohh.” That makes sense. “Hey.” I drop my voice so only Mattia can hear me. “Did you snitch on me about what happened yesterday?”
“Snitch on you?” He lets out a low chuckle, but I don’t find any of this funny.
“I can’t believe you did that. I trusted you,” I hiss dramatically into the phone.
“All right, godmother. Let’s pull it back.”
“So you heard my new voicemail,” I say, perking up. “Logically if there’s a godfather, then there has to be a godmother. Right?”
“I’m not pleased you sent me to voicemail several times.”
We’re back to this again? “Sorry, I was busy. You know how it goes. I’m a young female business owner who is working her way through the mob.”
“Sounds like hard work,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “Tell me, why do you think I snitched on you?”
“Oh yeah,” I say a little too loudly, but the man washing his clothes doesn’t glance up from his phone. I lower my voice and whisper, “There have been a few men in here that are definitely in the mafia. I’m on to them.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” he’s quick to assure me. “Is that why you’re thinking about making a run for it?”
“Why do you think that?” He’s not wrong, but is he reading my thoughts?
“When you’re in the mob, you need to trust your instincts.” Right, and mine are telling me to run. Or maybe take a nap instead.
“I’m not sure I can trust you,” I tell him.
“I’ll make it up to you. I’ve had a busy morning.” Wow, his instincts are good. “Besides, you’re supposed to send me a price.”
“Well, I’ve had a busy day too,” I say defensively.
