Page 122 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
I text her.
Hey.
I stare at my phone anxiously, silently willing the three gray dots to appear. But what if Seamus lied and she doesn’t reply because she’s dead?
Or worse, Maria or Onyx texts me, confirming that she’s been killed.
My phone lights up and I let out a shuddering breath.
Claudetta’s name flashes and I click open the text, my breath catching in my lungs.
OMG, Queen. Some biatch stole my phone! Like a fucking robbery on the train. We need to hang, girl.
My legs wobble as a breath whooshes from my lungs.
Soon.
She’s alive. She’s fucking alive. A sob rises up and I swallow it down. I’m not crying. I don’t do that.
But the words dance through me, and I’m so damn grateful. I know Claudetta, and those texts were one hundred percent her.
However, it’s not like I can go and see her now. I mean, what if I put her in danger? So I continue my search.
I flip through my contacts, and it’s quick work. I don’t have anyone to call. Not really. My finger hovers over Iosif’s name.
The asshole gave me whatever that thing was, he can fucking tell me what to do. I press the call button.
But he doesn’t answer.
I try again.
Nothing.
Then I try the house line because he has a landline, too.
More nothing.
A strange beat stirs in my blood. Maybe everyone’s asleep. Maybe they went out. Maybe he packed up the house and flew to Russia like he keeps threatening to do.
It’s not that late, but it’s not that early, either. He could have legitimate business, but it’s odd that no one answers on the landline.
My stomach twists and I whirl around, like I’m being watched.
Except I’m alone.
I keep walking at a steady pace.
Fucking Seamus. How can I hate him like I do and… lo—like him. He just might be the other half of me, and I don’t know what that means or what to do about it.
Trust me, he said.
I laugh.
After everything, he saidtrust…
I stop in my tracks and have to force myself to keep going. After everything, he asked me to trust him. What if the lie was the meaning behind them claiming to take my bratva?
What if…?
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