Page 22 of Texting Mr. Stranger

After, I actually watched and listened to the video. Sure, I noticed the way her tits swayed. I also saw the passion in each stroke of the bow, the flush of determination in her cheeks, and how she shifted, perfectly capturing that wildness she was talking about.

Now, sitting up in bed, I watch and listen to it again. Her performance is primal, unlike anything I’ve heard before. She hasserioustalent.

I put my phone down, only to pick it up again with a groan. I need to stay focused now that the Gallos may be back. I need to remember that this is for Sofia, not for me.

There’s something else, too, something I wouldn’t admit to anybody. There’s a piece of me that’s afraid of how I feel. It’s not a huge deal for most people. Most Dons have a long line of women. They take their pick, but not me. I’ve risen to the occasion by staying focused, sober, and alert.

Bella makes me feel anything but.

When the performance is over, I rewind the footage to the beginning. I don’t go all the way to the beginning, where I can see her backside in its full glory. I know I’ll get carried away again. Maybe when all this stuff with the Gallos is over, I’ll ask her on a date.

Even then, what if I fuck it up and ruin this for Sofia?

Hell, my head’s going around and around in circles.

I’m about halfway through my fourth listen when a text appears from Enzo.You awake, sir?

Since all my men are technically employees of DeLuca Investments, they should call mesirover the phone in any digital communication instead of Don. That way, if the cops ever scoop us up, they won’t fix on that word. Then again, if the cops grab us, it might be too late anyway.

Yes,I reply.

A moment later, my cell phone rings.

“Sir,” The Whisper says.

“Enzo,” I reply. “What’s going on?”

“Vito and I have been doing some digging. It looks like it is Orlando, after all. A couple of junkies gave us a description which led to a dashcam. We’ve got footage that clearly shows it’s him. Vito is in the ’burbs since we’ve got word he has a grow house out there.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “The sooner we can end this mess, the better.”

“Amen to that,” Enzo replies, “but there’s something else. Junkie mentioned Orlando started offering ‘special treats.’” Enzo’s voice drips in disgust. “That’s how he phrased it. Do you need me to say it?”

“Are we talking trafficking?”

“Yeah.”

“Are we talking kids?”

He swallows audibly. “Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ. What did the junkie say, exactly? No, wait. Meet me at the Rossa.”

“You got it.”

I hang up, climbing out of bed and rolling my shoulders, feeling so damn ready for a fight. All this tension in me has got to go somewhere.

Enzo and Vito are waiting for me in the office. Vito smokes a cigarette. The big man looks shell-shocked as he slowly blows out smoke. Even Enzo’s usual sly, knowing grin is absent. The wiry man stares at me with hollow eyes.

“What’s going on?” I growl, closing the door behind me.

“You show him, big man,” Enzo says.

Vito stubs out his cigarette and reaches into his pocket, offering me a few pieces of paper. I take them and look down. Darkness grips me. This is part of the life. The nastiness. The evil shit. The Family relies on me to be strong, but as I stare, I almost want to quit being the Don.

The image shows the inside of a metal container with three kids tied up like animals.

“This is Orlando’s doing?” I grunt.

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