The Mafia Devil in My Inbox Chapter 01
“Hannah, what are you smiling at? Texting your boyfriend?”
Nikki stopped beside my desk as she passed by.
“What? Since when do I have a boyfriend?”
I smiled as I checked my phone, waiting for my boyfriend’s reply.
A real boyfriend? No.
Did an online boyfriend count?
“Hey, Helldog, what are you up to?”
After hitting send, I flipped my phone over and waited.
For the past five months, while my coworkers and friends had been busy going to parties and dating, I’d been seeing someone named Inferno.
Someone I’d met entirely online.
I didn’t know his real name. I’d never seen his face.
He was a complete stranger.
For all I knew, he could have been an eighty-year-old man. Or some weird creep with a foot fetish.
Yet somehow, over those five months, I’d completely fallen for him.
If anyone asked me what my ideal boyfriend looked like, Inferno would be the answer.
My phone buzzed.
“Working. Waiting for a text from my angel.”
Another message followed almost immediately.
“Saw a dress. Already imagining you in it.”
“Especially if you were wearing it while I had you pinned against a floor-to-ceiling window, asking for more.”
See?
Just a few words were enough to make my heart race. How could I not like him?
Five months of sexting and phone sex had been great, but lately I’d started wanting more.
I wanted him to touch me. Maybe it was finally time for us to meet.
“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee…”
I was about to suggest our first meeting when another message popped up.
It was a random photo he’d taken.
Then I froze.
In the picture was something I recognized instantly.
An embossed gold crest. A raven.
That’s the emblem of the Riccardi family.
I worked for the Riccardi Group.
And my online boyfriend…worked for the same company?
My fingers flew across the keyboard.
“You work for the Riccardi Group too?”
“Are you part of the Riccardi family?”
I stared at the words I’d typed before deleting them. There was no way I could send those messages.
If I asked, he’d ask questions back. He might figure out who I was. Worse, he could tell his buddies about me and laugh behind my back.
That was the last thing I wanted.
“You still there?”
Another message appeared.
“Are you alone right now?”
“If you are, send me a picture. Your body… any part of it.”
A second later, another one arrived.
“I miss you.”
“I want to fall asleep inside you.”
The flirting became more aggressive with every text.
Normally, I’d be blushing. This time, though, I felt cold all over.
I knew Inferno was some kind of white-collar professional. Maybe even a boss. But I’d never imagined we worked at the same company.
What kind of twisted coincidence was this?
Sure, I worked for a mafia-owned corporation. But that didn’t mean I wanted anything to do with the mafia itself.
My father owed money. I was here to pay off his debt. Nothing more.
Before I could fully process the revelation, another message appeared.
“What’s wrong?”
“Or do you want to see me without any clothes on?”
Not wanting him to notice anything strange, and definitely not wanting to accidentally receive a nude photo from one of my male coworkers, I quickly picked up my phone and replied.
“Lunch break’s over. I need to get back to work. Talk later.”
“Okay, Angel ;)”
Inferno seemed to believe me and stopped messaging.
I leaned back in my chair and forced myself to think.
Right now, I had two questions I needed answers to.
First, who exactly was Inferno? Was he just another soldier working for the Riccardi family? Or was he someone higher up, maybe even a Consigliere or executive?
Second, once I figured out who he was, what then? Should I tell him the truth? Keep the online relationship going? Or simply ghost him?
Thinking back over the past five months, we’d actually been careful with our privacy.
Neither of us had ever sent selfies. We’d never exchanged real names, addresses, or any personal details.
The only thing Inferno had sent at my request were occasional photos of his abs.
I remembered one detail.
There was a knife scar on the side of his waist.
He’d told me he’d gotten it during a fight. I should’ve known then! What kind of normal person gets a scar from just “a fight”?
Unfortunately, that wasn’t much help.
I couldn’t exactly go around splashing water on every male employee in the building just to make them change clothes and check for a tiny scar… could I?
