Page 27 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“Just listen, bro. Fucking hell.”

It’s just the two of us, so he’s free to speak to me like this.

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “I’m listening.”

Elio runs a hand through his wild hair. “I had two of our men pick him up, dressed as cops. They put a bag over his head and brought him here. As far as he knows, he’s waiting for the investigating officer. He was whining about his family and threats. Why don’t we use this to our advantage? Wouldn’t it be better to have an inside man than just another corpse?”

When I don’t reply, Elio steps forward, staring at me. “As your consigliere, it’s my job to tell you when you’ve lost perspective.”

A petty piece of me is tempted to tell him to go to hell, but he’s right. Whether or not I want to admit it, he is. “Hmm …”

“I’m telling you now,” he says. “We can’t play thisjustwith violence. I know you’re pissed. I know you thought it was over.” He pauses, his voice getting husky with emotion. “I know we both made a promise to our old man. After Mom passed, he was never the same, was he? The city became his love; the Family became his only purpose. We both want to keep that promise. Believe me.”

“I do,” I whisper, my voice cracking slightly. “After all the work he put in and the sacrifices he made, he deserves that.”

“So listen, then. Please.”

Elio DeLuca wouldn’t saypleaseto any other man. Even if he needed to and it would be the best thing to do, our position as Don and consigliere would make it impossible. Yet, with each other, we can be honest.

“I’m listening.”

“We’re going to turn this asshole,” Elio says. “We’ll use him to get our hands on Orlando.” Elio’s tone grows savage. “Then you won’t have to convince me to get bloody and cruel. I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Who’s going to play the detectives?” I ask.

He names two of our middle-ranking men. “We’ll brief them on what to say,” he continues, “but I thought it’d be better if we didn’t do it. He might recognize us or Vito, Marco, Salvatore, Enzo …”

“You’re right.” I take a breath, calming myself down. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BELLA

Iwatch as Sarah, my afternoon student, beams proudly. She’s just aced the awkward spiccato passage we’ve been working on. Her enthusiasm makes me so freaking proud. “See? The bow bounced perfectly,” I say, smiling as she giggles.

Her fingers dance on the strings. She looks up at me, eyes shining with pride.

“Can we do the minuet next?” she asks, already positioning her fingers for the next piece.

I nod, enjoying her eagerness. We review the bowing technique, focusing on smooth transitions and maintaining a steady tempo. Sarah quickly learns, and her small hands move over the instrument comfortably and intimately.

After the lesson, Sarah’s mother reaches into her purse to pay me. She rummages around for a moment, then her expression shifts. “I must have left my wallet at home,” she says tightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did this. I can run home and get it right now?—”

I raise my hand. “It’s fine. I understand. These things happen. Don’t worry about it.” Relief touches her anxious features, her shoulders relaxing. I don’t mention that the only way I can be this generous is because of the handsome and possibly dangerous stranger filling my safe day by day.

“Thank you so much. You’re so kind,” she says, her voice thick with gratitude.

“Please, there’s no need,” I say, cutting her off as gently as possible. “It’s really okay. Sarah is such a joy to teach. That’s more than enough.” I crouch down to Sarah’s level, giving her a warm smile. “Keep practicing that minuet, and remember to focus on your bow hold, alright?”

Sarah nods enthusiastically, her eyes shining. “I will!” she chirps, hugging her violin.

Once they’re gone, I sit on the couch, yawning. I haven’t been getting enough sleep for months. I think the money situation always plays at the back of my head. Now, it’s still money, but in a different way. I wish I could stop thinking about that phone call. I wasn’t even supposed to hear it.

When my cell buzzes, I snatch it up eagerly. I expect to see a text from Matt, but it’s Emily. I assumed she’d be staying at her date’s house again. She’s done that plenty of times.

Bella? Are you there?

What’s up?I reply.

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