Page 54 of The Voicemail

“You’re welcome to come with us,” he tells her. “It would be safer for you, too.”

She shakes her head. “That asshole isn’t after me,” she says fiercely before turning to me, eyes softening. “But I get why you feel like you have to go back. That was scary as fuck. You shouldn’t have to live in that fear constantly, and if you feel like you need to go back with this asshole, you should.”

I laugh a little before reaching over to give her a hug. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this for nothing,” I say. “But are you sure you’re okay to stay here? He knows where you live and he’s dangerous. Trust me, Maya. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

She looks from me to her building. The front door is propped open while one of Alex’s men talks to a neighbor. A plastic bag from the bodega rolls down the street as a dog barks at it from an upstairs window.

It’s a typical view of a typical apartment building. If it weren’t for Alex’s men, everything would seem completely normal.

She finally shakes her head. “I deal with crazies all day at work. I can handle myself.”

Alex offers her a card. “This is my direct line,” he says. “You call it if you find yourself in any trouble. Do it for Elena.”

She takes the card warily before opening her door and stepping out onto the curb. I watch as she walks around the front of the SUV and slips past Alex’s guard and her neighbor. A minute later, she texts me.

All good here. Don’t worry about me, okay? And if that asshole makes you cry again, you call me.

I text her back that I will and almost smile. Until I look down at the red mark around my wrist where Tomaso tried to grab me and feel the panic clawing up my throat. Alex looks down too, and I instinctively pull my sleeve down.

The ride back is quiet. Alex takes the seat Maya vacated and says nothing. It surprises me. I expected him to grill me about everything that happened at her place. Instead, he taps at his phone until we reach the penthouse. It’s frustrating, actually. As much as I don’t want to talk to him, I have plenty to say.

Instead, I keep my hands folded in my lap and fight the urge to press one against my stomach. Alex would probably notice. He’d probably put two and two together and then my life would really be over. I don’t need that. I don’t need him taking any more away from me.

When we step into the penthouse, Adriana is waiting for us. She takes one look at my wrist and her mouth tightens. She says nothing but returns a moment later with an ice pack. Still, Alex doesn’t comment on it. I wonder why he’s suddenly acting like he cares about giving me space.

He stands near the living room entrance, watching me carefully. He doesn’t crowd me or issue any orders. I can’t help but wonder how long it will last.

We stand there awkwardly until I finally blurt out, “I want answers.”

“Now?” he asks, his expression becoming more guarded.

“Yes, now,” I insist.

“Fine,” he replies. “Let’s go to my office.”

I follow him silently and sit as far away from him as I can manage when I get inside.

“You told me Elio Marchesi doesn’t exist. That it’s just a cover for a mafia boss. Who is he? What’s his name?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly before answering. “His name is Silvio Bianchi,” he answers plainly. “As I said before, he’s a mafia boss. A very dangerous one.”

“And what’s your connection with him?”

He blinks back at me in surprise. He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I roll my eyes. “Come on, Alex,” I say slowly. “I’ve been with you for weeks now and I’m not an idiot. You say you’re in private security, but why do you need so much security? Why do you have a literal army of armed guards at your beck and call? Why do the police listen to you? Why have you been taking care of me this whole time? It’s because of this Bianchi character, isn’t it? So what’s the real story?”

He takes another breath. “My family has run this business for a long time,” he says carefully. “We have a lot of enemies, and we have a lot of allies. I keep so much private security because people don’t like what I do. The police listen to me because they respect me.”

“And you hate Silvio Bianchi because?”

“Because he’s a bad man, Elena,” he answers automatically. “He hurts a lot of people and he leaves collateral damage.”

“Is that what I am?” My heart pounds. “Is that what Claire was?”

He shakes his head sympathetically. “I’m trying very hard to make sure you’re not. You or Claire.”

I nod, but it doesn’t stop the chill running through me. I can’t tell if he’s being completely straight with me, but I believe him when he says he’s trying to keep me safe. That’s something, at least.