Page 13 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
He doesn’t waste time before he lets me know.
“I can’t believe you’ve been driving around for weeks with this in the back of your car,” he grumbles.
Then, he surprises the hell out of me as he twists the bottom of the cup and reveals a hidden compartment. There it is. He tucks the thumb drive he’s been asking about into his pocket and carelessly drops the cup to the floor, where it lands with a thud.
“Do you have any idea how valuable this is?”
“Of course,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s why I left it in my car for six weeks. I keep all of my most valuable things there.”
“I guess I was giving you too much credit by thinking that you could pull off stealing my flash drive for the Bratva. You’re no mastermind.”
What a condescending prick.
“I’d never work for the Bratva. Or any mafia dicks.” He doesn’t respond to that, and I gesture to the door. “Feel free to go, unless you want to stay and clean up your mess.”
He looks toward the kitchen before his eyes meet mine again, his expression unreadable. Those green eyes give away nothing, like looking into a forest so deep you can’t see what’s hiding in the shadows.
“You are pregnant, aren’t you? That’s what the two pink lines mean?”
I stare at him with my brow scrunched together, baffled at the subject change. “What difference does it make?”
I hope he can’t hear the fear in my voice. I need him to leave. Need him to go back to Vegas and forget I exist. Need him to never know that I’m carrying a little piece of him inside me.
“Who is the father?”
The suspicion in his voice doesn’t bode well for me. It slithers around my neck like a cold, deliberate warning.
“Some jerk. It doesn’t matter.” I wave my hand at him dismissively before turning to head back to the kitchen. “Shut the door behind you when you leave.”
“Paige,” he snaps, and my shoulders rise to my ears as I stop walking, but I don’t turn around to face him. “Who is the father?”
“I...I can’t...” My heart is racing, and my mind is screaming at me to keep refusing to answer his question, but there’s something about his insistence that’s making me feel weak.
I place a hand on my belly as I sense him moving closer to me. I’ve never felt so torn about something. My mind is set on keeping him in the dark about his role in creating this baby, but for reasons I can’t understand, my heart aches when I imagine him leaving without ever knowing that he’s going to be a father.
I’m nibbling my bottom lip when he comes around to stand in front of me. I’m sure the truth must be written on my face, but I still can’t bring myself to say anything. The air is thick with tension, and I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my own home.
“Who have you slept with recently?” he asks.
I gulp. Now would be the time to tell him it’s someone else’s baby. To invent a fictional boyfriend or a one-night stand that happened after Vegas. To lie through my teeth to keep my baby safe from the Andretti name and all the violence and danger that comes with it.
“You,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re the last person I slept with. You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months.”
There’s a moment of charged silence, and I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see what he has to say.
“Bullshit,” he finally says.
“W-What?” I splutter.
“I can’t believe that.” He folds his arms, staring at me with a cold sneer on his face. “You fell right into bed with me. How can I believe you?”
The accusation lands hard, sinking deep before I can catch my breath. “You think I’m lying? Why the hell would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you want my money or the prestige of being with an Andretti.”
I snicker. “Really? You think I’m trying to trap you? It’s not like I came to Vegas to seek you out. You’re the one that came here,and you must have already suspected this was your baby, or you’d be gone by now.”
“Maybe I’m curious by nature.”
