Page 52 of Sexting the Don

Opening up his home to us, making sure we’re more than comfortable—it’s way beyond what I ever expected. In all the chaos that seems to follow me, finding this kind of sanctuary with Enzo feels like striking gold. Maybe I’m starting to get to a place where I can finally let my guard down.

The first floor is quiet, with no sign of Enzo anywhere, so I head upstairs to the second floor, my steps light but purposeful. His office door is always closed, a silent sentinel guarding whatever high-stakes dealings he's got going on in there.

As I approach the door, ready to knock and flash him a playful grin upon him opening it, I hear voices. One is unmistakably Enzo's—deep, authoritative. The other, I don't recognize. Curiosity piques, and I lean closer, not to eavesdrop but to figure out if I should come back later.

That’s when I catch a name that makes my blood run cold: Jimmy.

I freeze, hand poised to knock, now glued to the spot. Part of me wants to walk away, to give them privacy and not get tangled up in whatever serious conversation they're having. But another part—the part that's tied up in knots over anything that has to do with my father—needs to know more.

My heart thuds painfully against my ribs as I strain to listen. The voices are muffled, but the serious tone and the occasional sharp spike of a raised voice all hint at high tension.

Angry tension.

Jimmy's name pops up again, and this time, I can’t just walk away.

I press my ear closer to the door, the wood cool against my skin, my mind racing.

Every instinct tells me to burst in and demand to know what's going on, but I hold back, letting the snippets of conversation guide me to a clearer picture before I make my presence known.

It's a risky game, standing here, but knowing more about what Enzo’s involvement with Jimmy could mean for us—for Mom and me—is crucial.

The other voice sounds anxious as he asks, “Why’d you let Jimmy’s woman and daughter move in here, boss? That’s risky, isn’t it? I’m not trying to second-guess you, but I don’t know …”

“It’s the only way to keep an eye on them,” he says. “Jimmy’s been causing problems for me and Garadino. Now he’s disappeared off the radar. It’s a fucking mess.”

“Garadino thinks you're involved in Jimmy's disappearance?” The other man’s voice rises slightly, tinged with incredulity.

“Yeah, and that's not a good place to be. Garadino is getting paranoid,” Enzo replies, his voice laced with frustration.

There’s a pause, and I can almost picture the other guy pacing, considering options. “What if we use the women as bait? Draw Jimmy out into the open?” he suggests cautiously.

They can’t seriously be considering using us as bait. Fear and anger swirl inside me, a dangerous cocktail.

Enzo is silent for what feels like forever. I hold my breath, waiting for his response, hoping he’ll immediately shoot the idea down.

The possibility that Enzo would even consider using us in such a way makes me sick to my stomach. I lean against the wall, suddenly feeling dizzy. The thought of being bait in some mobster plot, of dragging my mom back into the mess we’ve been trying so hard to escape, is too much.

I storm out, rage boiling inside of me. Enzo seemed so different from the man I know, the man I’ve grown to have feelings for. Knowing I might have been wrong, the realization stings like hell.

With a heavy heart but my head held high, I make my way to the guest house, needing a moment away from the opulence that suddenly feels more like a gilded cage than a safe haven. I push open the door and find Mom exactly where I expect her to be, kicked back on the sofa, lost in one of her new favorite TV shows.

Her face, usually lined with the stress of living with Jimmy, now looks lighter, relaxed.

Seeing her in this state, so removed from the strain of our old life, really twists the knife of betrayal deeper. How am I supposed to break this calm with the news that we might be pulled back into danger?

"Hey, Mom, how's everything?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

She lights up at the sound of my voice, her smile immediately brightening the room.

“Oh my God, sweetie, I just started watching this show calledGrace and Frankieon Netflix. It's hilarious. These two ladies, way past seventy, decide to flip their lives upside down. It's really inspiring; it makes you think it's never too late for a fresh start, you know?" she chuckles, then sighs contentedly. "Jimmy always said Netflix was a waste, remember? Said we didn’t have money for that kind of stuff. Well, look at me now, binging with the best of them!"

I join in her laughter, but there's a tightness in my heart as I do. She looks so happy, so removed from the chaos of our past life, totally unaware of the storm that could be just out of sight. I catch a flicker of concern in her eyes as she notices the change in my expression.

"What’s the matter, honey? You seem a bit distracted," she probes, her eyes narrowing slightly with concern.

I hesitate for a second, almost spilling everything about Enzo and the trouble brewing. But I bite it back, choosing a safer subject.

"I was just thinking that we should probably start hunting for our own place. Much as this mansion’s like a fairy tale, we can’t crash at Enzo’s forever."

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