Chapter 18
ETTORE
Isit in my office, my manhood still feeling the aftereffects of what we nearly did.
I should never have let it get that far.
Now, not only is her image stuck in my head.
On her back, beautiful breasts out, face red and primed with lust. Now it’s her feel too, the heat against my shaft, her clutching around my fingers.
And then after—
I grit my teeth. As if it’s not bad enough that I spend so long elsewhere, doing dark deeds, because this is the only life I know. Hiding away from my daughter because sometimes I feel like a devil and I know she deserves an angel. Now I’m risking her walking in on that.
Never again. I make a promise right now. If I take Mara – which would be a mistake, but I’m white-knuckling it here – there’s no way I’m letting our resolve fly so wildly like that.
I call Mark. Something’s been niggling me. “Any update on Dante’s men?” I ask.
“They’ve ghosted their usual spots,” he replies. “Which means they’ve met the same fate, or they know something we don’t and they’ve gone to ground.”
“Keep looking. But don’t make any noise. There’s something else too.”
“Yeah?”
I swallow. “Look into Mara Keene’s neighbor, her parents, and her aunt. Anything that leads back to the life.”
“That’s… vague.”
“Those are your orders,” I tell him.
“You got it, boss.”
I hang up, ignoring the subtle slight. Mark only calls me boss in private when he thinks I’m acting like a tyrant, not giving him enough information.
Which is fair enough. I don’t really know what I think I’m going to find.
It was probably just a drunk neighbor, ranting, like she said. But what if it wasn’t?
I take out my phone and text Mara.
Ettore: Is she feeling better?
Her reply takes a few minutes to come. I try to work in the meantime, but I end up just drumming my fingers against the desk.
Mara: Yes, she’s practicing her recital. I’ve never seen a kid put so much effort into something before. She’s so excited. She keeps saying she wants to sparkle for Daddy.
Ettore: She always sparkles for me. She doesn’t need to worry about that.
Mara: That’s so sweet.
I swallow. Sweet. A word no one would use to describe me under normal circumstances.
Ettore: Does she suspect anything?
Mara: I don’t know what you mean.
Ettore: About earlier?
Mara: I still don’t know what you mean.
I smirk, nodding. Okay, so that’s the game she wants to play.
Ettore: If that’s how you want to play it, that’s how we’ll play it.
Mara: I don’t want to play anything. I just want to do a good job. I won’t lie, Ettore. You’re like a drug to me. I don’t understand how. It’s dangerous. I don’t want to boost your ego, but something tells me you’re not the sort of guy to hold this over a woman.
Ettore: I don’t even know what holding it over a woman would mean. I haven’t felt this before. And I’m aware I shouldn’t say things like that.
Mara: You’re not saying it. You’re texting it. I don’t think you’d ever say something like this in person.
She sees me so clearly. She’s right.
Ettore: It’s hard to switch off a lifetime of coldness.
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 word RAT carved 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 a spy?” I feel sick, furious, ready to break a limb.
“She was shocked when this bastard said what he said. She’s confused 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.
But I just know, deep in my bones, she’d never do something like that.