Texting My Mafia Temptation: Curvy Girl, Age Gap Romance (Texting the Marino Mafia Book 4) by Flora Ferrari

Author:Flora Ferrari [Ferrari, Flora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Mia

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” I tell Lexi on the phone as Dante pulls up in Uncle Leo’s driveway. My heart is pounding so hard, but I do something strange. I make myself see Vito, see the vivid grotesqueness of it. I make myself relive it.

“Where are you?”

“Dad wants to see me,” I tell her. “I know how he thinks this will go, but I’m done, Lex. Seriously.”

“Colt can drive me there right now.”

“By the time you get here, we’ll already be done.”

Dante walks up next to me. Already, I can see Dad and his friend in the front window. Something sick happens to me. It’s like my bones actually get weaker, a deep, reflexive response like an animal flinching, but no—Vito, the blood pooling, the fragility of life.

I walk up the driveway, my hand balled into a fist around the phone. “Lexi, I have to go⁠—”

“Mia—”

I hang up as I approach the front door. Dante walks ahead of me, standing tall, his muscles bulging because he looks tense. He could snap at any second, thinking about doing something dark and bloody on a constant loop. We’re so messed up. As Dante and I walk into the house, we’re like a different species, completely separate, twisted, and determined to be alone, even if we both feel it.

I almost gasp again. My breath… my thoughts…

Taking a moment, I rest my hand against the wall. Dante turns to me. He’s about to put his hand on my arm, but then Dad walks down the corridor into the large entranceway with a sick, moist grin on his face. “Oh, Mia!” he cries, drunk and over the top.

He tries to throw his arms around me, but I take a few steps back, forcing myself to see Vito, see the blood, and relive the pain. “Don’t touch me,” I say, way louder than I meant.

Uncle Leo appears in the hallway, looking strong and sturdy despite his age. “Mia?”

“I just—” Dad glares at me silently, almost stopping me from talking. My throat feels tight. The world is spinning around me too fast and at the wrong angle. He’s glaring at me like he’s somehow balled up childhood trauma into a fist and thrown it at my face.

“I don’t want to be hugged,” I say. “I don’t want to be touched.”

“Mia,” Dad says, with his over-the-top crying, his crocodile tears. “I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

“Vito tried to hurt me, Dad,” I say, somehow finding my voice. It cracks and shakes, and a small depressing part of me wonders if I sound pathetic, but I force it out. “And you knew he was going to. You knew he was that sort of person, and I⁠—”

“Mia…” There he is, his voice getting harder, his tone getting meaner. That’s always been the worst part about it, the way he can somehow charm the right people and come across as the buffoon when really he’s a monster, a violent creepy cruel man.

“I never knew Vito,” I almost yell. Now, Aunt Alessia is standing next to Leo, her hand on his arm, the other over her mouth.

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