Accidentally Sexting the Mafia Don

For three months, I’d been seeing a guy named “Rex.” A total stranger I’d only met online.

We were in the thick of it, that honeymoon phase where every night my phone would blow up with messages that made my pulse jump.

“Miss you, sweetheart.”

“Dreamt of you again last night. You were all over me, begging for it.”

I was about to suggest we finally meet.

But then he sent me a picture, a casual shot of his desk, and I saw something familiar: the crest of the Falcone crime family.

And I work for a company owned by the Falcones.

For three months, I’d been sexting a dangerous man, a made man in the mafia, who could be right under my nose.

And just when I was trying to figure out who he was, I saw them.

The custom black onyx cufflinks I’d picked out for “Rex”… on my boss, Marco’s, wrists.

“What’re you up to?”

My thumbs flew across the screen. I hit send.

I stared at the chat, waiting for the man I knew only as "Rex" to reply.

This had been my ritual for the past three months.

I’d added him on a whim. We hit it off instantly, falling hard and fast until things got intense.

My phone vibrated.

It was a picture, a side shot of his computer desk. A few files were scattered next to the keyboard.

“Working. And waiting for a text from my sweetheart.”

A smile crept onto my face.

This man knew exactly how to make me blush with just a few words.

Maybe it was time to take this offline, to finally meet in person.

But as I was about to type my reply, my fingers froze.

Bottom right of the photo, on the corner of a folder, was a sliver of a metal pin. A falcon with its wings spread.

The Falcone family crest. The same mafia that owned the company I worked for.

My online boyfriend was one of them.

I stared at the screen for a full ten minutes, my mind blank.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard.

"Babe, what do you actually do?"

"Are you... with the Falcones?"

I typed the words, then deleted them. Over and over.

I didn't know what to say. If I asked, he’d ask right back. He’d want to know where I was. He'd find out I worked for a Falcone company.

He would come looking for me.

And then what? What the hell would I do then?

When I didn’t reply right away, Rex’s texts started coming in, one after another.

“Baby, you there?”

“Busy? Send me a pic. Like you do. Your hand… or anything.”

“Dreamt of you again last night. You were all over me, begging for it.”

His words were getting dirtier, bolder.

But this time, my cheeks weren't just hot with a blush—they were burning with a cold dread.

For three months, I thought I was talking to some normal businessman. A guy who