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 as my 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.”
“Did you wave back?”
“No,” Emmet says. “Tell her it’s nothing personal. I’ll buy her some cotton candy next time we’re at the fair.”
I nod. “Good man. You did the right thing. Who is he?”
It’s like I can hear Emmet smiling. I lean back in my chair, crossing my ankles on the desk, trying to convince myself I’m not on the verge of a red, hot rage. “I thought you were going to ask that.”
“You know me well.”
“I had my partner split off and follow him. Got his address and the plate to his vehicle.”
“Good work,” I say, then hang up, drumming my fingers on the desk.
A moment later, my cell phone rings again. It’s Mark.
“Give me some good news,” I snap.
“Cartel lead seems like bullshit. I’ve been asking around. No presence in the city to speak of. Even the local Mexican gangs don’t know what we’re talking about. And Detective Tuffin has taken a leave of absence. He’s in Malta for two months.”
“How convenient,” I say. “So, we’re back to square one.”
“Maybe it really was just a freak thing,” Mark replies.
“Yeah, sure, until the bullets fly. Ruggero wants me to go to his bar in a couple of hours. Meet me there.”
“Will do,” he says. “Should I bring backup?”
I consider this. “No. He’s not stupid enough to attack us in the open. I hope he’s not stupid enough to attack us at all.”
“My mother used to say, assume everybody’s a fool, including yourself, and it makes life a lot easier.”
“Smart lady.”
After the phone call, I go to the window, looking out on my estate. Callum Dray, some jock-looking bastard who thinks he can act tough because Mara is alone and a woman.
I return to the desk and open my computer, finding him on social media. His profile photo is of him with a big, shiny smile on his face. His profile is public, so I click through the photos.
My veins turn cold when I see him, several years ago, with his arm wrapped around Mara. She’s got a smile on her face… but she looks scared. It’s like she’s desperate to get far away from that man.
Or that’s just what I’m seeing. What I want to see. As if the idea of her with anybody else is poison to me. I stare at it for a long time, opening and closing my fist.
My cell phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, which isn’t highly unusual. It could be one of my men on a burner.
“Speak,” I say, answering.
“Oh, hi?” a woman’s voice, nervous and low. “It’s Ambra Calvi, Ruggero’s daughter.”
What the hell?
“Hello, Ambra,” I say, tone even.
“I wanted to call before our date at my father’s bar later.”
I massage the bridge of my nose. This is some messed-up scheming, even for Ruggero. I think again of what he hinted about my baby, that if I don’t marry, she will one day. Are the Calvis stupid enough to start a conflict over this?
“I’m sorry, Ambra, but this is the first I’m hearing of a date.”
I’m careful to keep the rage out of my voice. This isn’t her fault. And despite how ridiculous it all is, I still have to respect the Calvi name.
“Oh,” she murmurs. “My father said… Have I got it wrong?”
“I’m very sorry. As far as I understood it, Ruggero wanted to meet with me. That’s all he said. He told me nothing about a date.”
She pauses. “Oh—I see.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that,” she says with a sigh. She sounds relieved, I think. “I told my father I wasn’t ready to date yet. I just got out of a relationship just a few months ago and… Well, you don’t need my whole life story. So, we don’t have to do this?”
“No, Ambra.”
“This life, huh?”
I let out a breath through gritted teeth. “This life,” I agree.
She hangs up after a quick goodbye. I text Mark immediately.
Ettore: The meeting’s off.
If Ruggero has any sense, he’ll let this slide without ever bringing it up again. The old fool thinks he can bully me and his daughter into a relationship. But I have to be careful not to jump to conclusions. Arranging a secret date and trashing one of my stores are two very different things.
Again, my phone goes off. It’s Mara.
Mara: Do you have people following me without my permission?
My heartbeat turns into a jackhammer. I slump in my chair.
Ettore: I have security who follows my daughter at all times. I’m a high net-worth individual and I’d be a fool not to.
I stare at the photo of her and the douchebag on the screen. I hate this man and I don’t even know him. I think I’d hate any man who had his arm around her. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s fear in her eyes. Some desperate need to be somewhere else, with someone else. With me.
Mara: So, that’s a yes. You could’ve given me a heads up. I understand the need for security, but why the secrecy? And I’ve got to be honest, that guy didn’t look like he worked for a security firm.
Ettore: Oh, no? What did he look like?
Mara: I don’t think you want me to say that over text. Where are you?
Ettore: I’m working, Mara.
Mara: At home or at your office?
I grind my teeth. I’m raging with jealousy and possession I should not be experiencing. I can’t be with her right now. But I can’t discuss this in text either.
Mara: Are you going to ignore me? I deserve to know who I’m working for. So, either tell me or I quit.
I smile through the rage. She’s just as fierce as I am.
Ettore: Don’t be dramatic.
I quickly delete my message. I don’t want to tame any parts of her, to diminish her. I just want her.
Ettore: I’m in my home office.
Mara: I’m going to leave Sylvie with Livia and come there right now.
With my hands behind my back, I shut down the computer screen, then moved towards the window.
I need to calm down. I was cold before Mara came into our lives. I kept everything locked in a box, stifled, controlled. But now—the lid has burst open. It’s good in some ways. It’s helping me to be closer to my daughter.
It’s also dangerous. Everything is too close to the surface. Rage. Protection. Love. Possession. Me. All right there, burning, bubbling.
“Come in,” I call when she knocks on the door.
“Are you going to keep your back to me the whole time?” she says, voice fiery.
I turn slowly. Her hair is wild and beautiful, her eyes wilder. Her face is pure determination. I respect that.
“Listen,” she says, kicking the door shut behind her without taking her eyes off me. “I’m just going to say something, and I know you probably can’t just answer it. But I think you can answer it without answering it, if you know what I mean.”
Speaking without speaking, hinting, implicating. These are the rules by which mafiosi live.
“I understand,” I say.
“Are you a mob boss?”