Opening my email, a chill slides up my spine as I remember the email from the unknown address that I received five years ago with attached pictures of me killing the dry cleaner’s wife. Nothing ever became of them, at least not that I know of, since I went to prison shortly after all of that.
I have thousands of accumulated emails, but I have no doubt that whoever this person is, they’ve sent me more emails. You don’t just send a warning message like that and not back it up with whatever the fuck you want.
I find the original and do a search for the email address hoping that I’ll be able to find something. I do. It’s sixty-five emails exactly. One each month that I was away, dated on the fifteenth of every month, and an extra one on Christmas day, every fucking year.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
I open one of them in the middle at random and it has a picture attached. It’s a photograph of Pippa and her sister, Rosana. They’re dancing in a club. My breath hitches at the sight.
I’m instantly angry seeing her in a club, but on the other hand, she’s beautiful. Upon close inspection, I see that she’s with all of the wives, and their guards are surrounding them.
SEEMS BAD BOYS LIKE BAD GIRLS. I’M GLAD. I’M PRETTY BAD, BABY.
My eyes widen. It’s a woman. Without paying attention to the time, or even checking to see if he’s still on the payroll, I find my phone and search for my friend in the police department, Officer Brando Riva.
“Fucking hell, I thought I’d never see this name pop up on my phone again,” his rough voice rasps.
“I’m out.” I chuckle.
“I know. Figured you’d take some time off though.”
“Never,” I grunt.
There’s a moment of silence, then Brando clears his throat. “You’re calling me, Mass.”
“Did you ever find out who sent me that email five years ago?”
“Christ,” he hisses. “I didn’t get far. Whoever it was really wanted to stay hidden, then you went away, and nothing else became of it, became of that night, so I assumed whoever it was got bored.”
I shake my head as though he can see me. “They didn’t. I have sixty-five emails staring back at me, the latest being just five hours ago. I opened one, and Brando, I think it’s a woman.”
“A lover?”
“Only fucked my wife and a whore at one of our houses in probably nine years.”
“You think it could be her?”
“I didn’t even know her name until after I was married. I haven’t seen her since the night of my bachelor party.”
There’s a long moment of silence and I close my eyes, pinching them tightly as I wait for him to speak. “Okay. Forward all that shit to me, every message that they sent you. Shit is much more sophisticated than it was five years ago, plus, I got a guy who will do shit completely under the radar for me. I’m going to have him dig a little. Whoever this is, they’re obviously not going away.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He chuckles. “It’s good to have you back, Massimo. I missed you, friend.”
Smiling, I lean my head back as I swing from side to side in my office chair. “Yeah, it’s good to be back, Brando.”
Ending the call, I forward the emails to him and start to look around for anything else that can be pressing in my inbox. Of course, there’s nothing, there wouldn’t be.
All of my famiglia contacts knew exactly where I was and what I was doing, they wouldn’t send me shit.
Going through five years of emails, aside from the sixty-four left from the mystery stalker, is depressing. Nobody sent me anything during the time I was away, not really. There are ads from online shopping, but nothing else to note.
“Massimo, what are you doing? It’s five in the morning,” Pippa’s voice calls out.
Spinning around in my chair to face her, I shrug a shoulder as my eyes move up her body. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, they look like silk or satin from where she is leaning against the doorframe.
“Working,” I mutter, not wanting to tell her about the mysterious emails.
She doesn’t need to know that not only that dirty guard was stalking her, but someone that I can’t find has been as well. Seeing how it’s affected her, whether she says the words or not, just with the guard having watched her, I can’t confess the truth that someone else has been watching her this entire time as well.
“Working?”
Nodding my head once, I jerk my chin in a silent demand for her to come into the room and over to me. Holding my breath, I watch as she slowly makes her way over to me, stopping just in front of my knees.
I wonder if she kept that sexy secretary outfit that she took pictures in all those years ago for me? Then, I decide that if she didn’t, I’m going to have her get another one, because I will fuck her in that outfit, in this office.
Spreading my legs, I smirk as I tilt my head toward my thigh. I watch as she awards me with a very small smile before she sinks down onto my leg. Placing one hand at her lower back, I wrap the other around her legs and gently grip her hip with my fingers.
“You weren’t working,” she murmurs.
I snort, looking up into her eyes. “You caught me. I couldn’t sleep,” I truthfully admit. “I came in here to see if you’d kept it the same, then I decided to check my email.”
“Email?”
Sliding my hand up her hip, her waist and then curling my fingers around the side of her neck, I use my thumb and glide it along her jawline. “Didn’t expect me to have email?”
She smiles softly, her eyes searching mine. “I guess not. Do all of the mafia bosses have email?”
Laughing, I slide
