Page 92 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

“I told you it’s a little place up on Shorecliff beach. Sunsets are awesome. You’ll like it.”

She hesitates, then asks, “Will you be alone?”

I go still, shocked that she feels the need to ask that. “What do you think, Adele?”

She shakes her head, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Talk to me.” I move closer, perching on the edge of the bed.

She takes a deep breath. “It’s stupid. It’s just . . . Alina said something, and I wondered if you had a thing for redheads . . . women, in general.”

Fuck.

Heat crawls up my face, a sensation so foreign I almost don’t recognize it. I haven’t blushed like this since third grade, when Mrs. Radcliffe caught me passing a note to some girl and read it aloud to the class.

Still, I don’t hide my reaction from her. “I have a thing for you. Just you. And no woman has ever seen the inside of my house.”

Addy’s shoulders relax, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Really?”

I nod, holding her gaze. “Well, one did come close once, but she ran off screaming.”

“Why did she run?”

“Something about the Halloween decor spooked her, I think. Although she’s still intrigued, and she’s now begging for a second chance to see it.”

Addy’s eyebrow arches. “Really? And you’ll let her?”

I shrug, a playful glint in my eye. “Only if I know she won’t run again.”

“Maybe if you stop scaring her, she’ll stop running away.” She leans forward, a challenge in her voice.

“Not a chance.” I stand, straightening my jacket. “Anyway, I’ll be here tomorrow morning. Then you can tell me all about how you managed to do what you did back there without throwing up all over me despite being four weeks pregnant.”

“Six,” she corrects, her hand unconsciously moving to her belly.

“No, tesoro, we had sex four weeks ago. Do the math.”

Addy starts to chuckle, the sound warming me more than I care to admit. “Oh my God, Einstein, that’s so not how the math is done.”

My brows furrow as I shrug on my jacket. “Do you know how many we’re having yet?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She sits up straighter, eyes widening.

“Just saying. Enzo had six. Nico’s having two. Might be something in the weed we smoke.”

“Dante!” Her voice rises in alarm. “You still smoke?”

“Not unless I’m losing my mind.” I walk over to the hidden compartment and take out two loaded guns, securing one in my waist and another in my ankle holster. When I turn back to Addy, I notice how the tension seeps into her shoulders, her fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

“This work you have . . . what’s it about?” Her voice wavers slightly as she cradles her still-flat belly.

I finish adjusting my suit jacket, weighing my words carefully. “Just a meeting to discuss last night. Someone’s probably going to catch a bullet. Usually happens when a war is brewing.”

She groans and puts a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes briefly. “Do you think the same ‘meeting’ is happening in the Irish mob at the moment?”

“Without a doubt. Even if the cops haven’t notified them, your tracker would have gone offline at Resin, and they would have heard about the bomb blast. Put two and two together.”

Her eyes snap open, disbelief etched across her face. “My tracker? Are you saying my dad—Benjamin, would have a tracker on me?”

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