Page 40 of Not Mine to Keep

Me:Told you he wants to be more than friends.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Why do you sound jealous?

Me:I can’t sound anything. We’re texting.

Apparently, she could hear my voice through text, too. But jealous?

Me:And I don’t “do” jealous. Not even sure how that feels.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:I guess I believe you considering your reputation.

My reputation was what it was for a reason. I didn’t want anyone getting the idea I’d fall in love. No heart to give. No fucks, either.

And there I was, feeling like I was giving one. Well, a fuck, at least. But it was to keep her safe, because she was clearly a decent human being.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:So what do I do?

Me:Text him back so he doesn’t report you as missing. Send him a happy photo with the backdrop in Italy, letting him know you’re playing hooky because you decided to make an impromptu trip to visit family. If he pushes for a call, make it quick.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:He’ll never believe that.

Me:Fine, tell him the partial truth. I swept you off your feet after the fundraiser and took you to Italy for a trip.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:... You can’t be serious. Braden will lose his mind.

Me:Yeah, Braden’s going to lose something if he doesn’t back off.

“Fuck.” I backspaced each word before sending the text and typed something more appropriate.

Me:Just figure out something to tell him so he doesn’t call the cops.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Roger that.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Sorry, I think Braden’s military talk has rubbed off on me. What I meant is, I’ll think of something to say and handle it.

I closed my eyes and took a calming breath or two before I barked out some crazy commands about not wanting Braden’s “anything” to “rub” anywhere on my future wife.

Before I could come up with something less psychopathic to say, or God help me,jealous, my phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number coming from Sicily.

Me:I have to go. Be in touch. And don’t forget to hydrate.

And to tell the marine to fuck off.

Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey:Be safe.

Me:Always.

“This is Alessandro Costa,” I answered the call, assuming it was Emilia Calibrisi and not Marcello or one of Armani’s men. “Emilia, that you?”

“Sì, and I had an interesting meeting with your father.” She cut right to it. Good. I preferred that over small talk. “He let me know about your precarious situation.”

Precarious is one way of putting it.According to the conversation with my father when I’d arrived in Rome, he’d told me she was on board with the plan. “I appreciate your help with what we’re asking you to do. It’s a big ask, but it’s to save a life and—”

“And a chance to get Rocco Barone,” she finished for me. “Only I have a condition. One of Claudio Barone’s rockets took out a village in Egypt three months ago, and a lot of innocent people were killed. We’ve been searching for him ever since. Claudio Barone is our mark.”

“Just Rocco’s father?” I tensed as I waited for her to answer because Rocco was mine. His head. On a motherfucking platter.

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