Page 50 of Texting My Mafia Boss

But I just know, deep in my bones, she’d never do something like that.

CHAPTER 19

MARA

Isit on the couch, trying not to chew the inside of my cheek. Sylvie is wearing a hoodie over her ballet gear, constantly tugging at her sleeves. She looks nervous, constantly looking around as if her dad is going to appear from thin air. Livia sits in a pretty dress, hair styled. She gives me a somber look.

“Do we have to leave soon?” Sylvie asks, tugging at her sleeves again.

I noticed her doing that when I first arrived, saw it as a nervous gesture, then felt proud when she started doing it less over the last few weeks. Now, it’s back in full force.

“Yes,” I murmur. “Ten minutes.”

“Okay.” She twists to look out the front window.

“I just need to use the bathroom.”

I step into the hall and take my cell from my handbag and call Ettore. It must be onDo Not Disturb, because it goes straight to voicemail. I text him instead.

Mara: Are we meeting you there or are you joining us? We need to leave soon.

I go to the bathroom and do my business. Ettore replies when I’m on my way back.

Ettore: Business has called. I’ll have to meet you there.

Mara: Ettore.

Ettore: Mara, do you think I planned on one of my men getting shitfaced drunk and beating up his wife? What do you want me to tell the poor woman, Mara? I’ll be there. I’ll meet you there.

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing slowly.

Mara: What does business mean in this context, putting a bullet in this guy’s head?

Ettore: I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. That’s a ludicrous thing to say.

A pause between messages.

Ettore: Is Sylvie excited?

Mara: She’d be more excited if you were here with her.

I pocket my phone, so angry I could scream. He promised her he’d be there. I know why he said that was a ludicrous thing to say. He can’t admit anything over text. But there’s a possibility he’s dishing out some of the hell we talked about—to keep the slice of heaven viable.

Walking into the front room, I smile tightly.

“Well?” Livia asks.

“I just used the bathroom,” I reply.

“Oh. We thought you might’ve spoken to him. I can’t get through.”

I shake my head, trying to think of the best route to take. Approaching Sylvie, I kneel and gently take her hand. “I think you should focus on giving your best possible performance, Sylvie. Just think about being the best dancer you can possibly be.”

“But I want Daddy to see,” she murmurs.

“I really hope he’ll be there,” I say. “He told me earlier that if he can’t meet us here, he’ll do his best to meet us there.”

“So he will be there?” she asks hopefully.