Page 38 of Shackled By the Mafia Boss

Once he leaves, I lean back in my chair, letting out a heavy sigh. The weight of solving a murder, receiving threats andhaving a secret relationship feels suffocating, but revealing the truth about Marcus and the threats is a no go.

If there’s anyone I must tell, it has to be Marcus. He’s the only one who can track down whoever sent the message and take him out if he needs to.

I pull out my phone, scrolling through messages, and pause at the threatening message received earlier. My fingers hover over the screen, contemplating whether to seek Marcus's help or handle it on my own.

The office is filled with the distant hum of printers and keyboard clicks as the others in the space continue their work. The wall clock behind me suddenly sounds too loud.

Call him or don’t call him?

It takes a minute before I make a decision. I think of what he might be doing, what I might interrupt. Besides which, it’s not like I can talk to him over the phone in front of my colleagues, anyway.

Me: Hi, are you free to chat?

He reads the message immediately, as if he’s been waiting for me to text him. I smile as he types.

Marcus: I’m always free to chat with you, amore. How are you?

Me: Fine. I got a message. I don’t know if I’m overreacting

Marcus: Let me see

I pause.

Me: It’s better if I show you in private

Marcus: Where are you?

Me: At work

Marcus: Let’s talk over lunch. I’ll come pick you up myself

Time flies by in slow motion and by the time my clock beeps to let me know it’s time for lunch, I’m already exhausted from waiting.

My phone buzzes when I’m applying lip-gloss.

Marcus: I’m in the parking lot. White Porsche. Tinted glass

Gathering my handbag and phone, I stride outside to the parking lot where Marcus is waiting for me. It takes less than a minute before I spot his Porsche. He opens the passenger door and I hop in, closing the car door as I settle inside.

The car smells like cinnamon, cedarwood and aftershave. I take in a long inhale, relishing Marcus’s scent. I think I’m becoming addicted to the way he smells and can I blame myself? He smells so good.

“You’re looking gorgeous,amore,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. My stomach flusters, his compliments catch me off-guard every darn time.

Marcus must be obsessed with how I look because I could be wearing rags and I don’t think it would stop him from telling me how good I look.

I’m not wearing anything that special today. Just my usual slacks, a silky, cream-colored under top and a black suit jacket. I look average if you ask me.

“Thank you,” I mutter, clipping in my seatbelt. I sigh, resting in my seat. “Break’s only thirty minutes, you might want to drive.”

And it’s a police station. I wouldn’t want one of my snoopy colleagues trying to find out who owns the Porsche and catching us together. Though the windows are heavily tinted so that’s not much of a problem.

“Yes, ma’am.” He steers the car from the parking lot, one hand on the steering wheel, his other changing the song on the radio. “What is this text you wanted to talk to me about?”

I close my eyes as if that would somehow give me the courage to tell him about it. He’s here now so deciding not to tell him isn’t even among the list of the options I have.

“Yes, I got a text.” I force the words out of my throat, but they sound like a whisper. “A threat.”

He looks away from the road briefly, his brows raised. “From whom?”

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