Page 47 of Texting Mr. Stranger

“Please, just answer me.”

“Ofcourse,” she snaps, “but it’s not fair to ask me that. It’s not fair to make it about me and you. The fact is, you’re a young woman who doesn’t even know who this man is. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I agreed to this and something happened to you.”

The passion of her words slams into me, making it difficult to think of a response. I look over at Matt. When he sees I need help, his expression softens slightly, but not a lot. Maybe the other two wouldn’t even notice it, but I do.

Stepping forward, he says, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the only way something will happen is if she stays here.”

“Mom.” I take her hands. “You trusted me to work two jobs to help you with college. As a kid, you trusted me to run to the corner store alone, even when we both knew I shouldn’t have. Please, trust me now.Please.”

“Samantha,” Emily says, walking up beside me.

Mom looks at my bestie, her eyebrows raised. “You too?”

“I’ve never known Bella to misjudge somebodythisbadly. I stand by her if she thinks this is for the best.”

I look at my friend, her pink hair tied up in a messy bun, her features focused and full of emotion. Her button nose scrunches in a gesture only a longtime friend could read.I got you …

Mom runs a hand through her hair, sighing in a world-weary way. “I’m not going to win here, am I?”

Matt steps forward. “I’m sorry, but we haven’t got any more time. They could roll up at any moment.”

“Do we have time to pack our things, at least?”

“I’ll send somebody for them,” Matt says, gesturing at the door. “Please …”

I almost take his hand. It feels like far too much time has passed since last night night. We’ve gone from a secretive, exciting romance to … something else— something more profound.Be careful. I need to make sure I don’t let myself get carried away.

He’s protecting me. We kissed. We got hot and heavy. Okay, but that doesn’t mean that this is anything more than him doing what he does best—playing the Good Samaritan.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MATTEO

I’m in my home office, about to make a call, when the door suddenly bursts open, and Sofia storms in. She looks wild and ready for a fight. Her sharp cheekbones and the anger in her expression have never looked more Mom-like. She races to the desk.

“What thehellis Bella doing in the guesthouse? And her mom? And her roommate? What thefuck?” She slams her tiny hand on the desk, causing stationary and other odds and ends to leap around. “You promised we wouldn’t let her know this part of our life.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like the world’s shittiest big brother. With all the mayhem, I didn’t even think to keep Sofia in the loop. “But this was out of my control. Bella was attacked. Somebody was outside her apartment. If I didn’t bring her here?—”

“God’ssake,” Sofia cuts in. “Iknewit was going to be something like this. Something I can’t even be angry about.” She dashes to the window, her body trembling like she’s ready to scream. “Just once, I’d love if this Mafiacrapdidn’t have to get involved in every single aspect of our lives. Don’t you?” She spins to me. “Ever?”

“The mobismy life,” I tell her. “When Dad passed, I promised I’d take care of the Family—of the city. What other choice do I have? Let any evil bastard take control instead? Let the city burn? I’m doing my best.”

She frowns at me like she’s thinking of saying,Well, your best isn’t good enough. If thatiswhat she’s thinking, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she sighs and slumps in the chair opposite mine.

“How much does she know?”

“I’m not sure,” I mutter. “Probably more than she’s letting on. She’s an intelligent person. Insightful. Humane.”

Sofia narrows her eyes at me. “Is there something you need to confess?”

“What are you talking about?” I grunt.

“I’m talking about the fact your voice just got all dreamy like I’ve never heard it before. I’m talking about you having the H-O-Ts for my violin teacher …”

“You think I uprooted her family and brought her here, exposing her to the mob because of acrush?”

“That isn’t an answer,” Sofia says, reminding me that, while she seems young, she’s twenty-four and not blind to what we do here.

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