Page 25 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
“Are you serious, right now?” I ask, dumbfounded. My voice is a low hiss so as not to attract attention as we head for the exit.“Were you really worried about that old couple in the elevator? They look like they’re in their nineties.”
“Never assume that someone is weak just because they look that way. Anyone can be a threat.”
The seriousness of his words stops me in my tracks. “Wait a minute. Am I in danger?”
Dario mentioned that I could be, but he made it seem like it was an abstract possibility. If there’s already something to fear, I can’t help thinking that it’s Dario’s fault for bringing me to Vegas.
“No,” Alessio says. “But when I told Dario you wanted to go out for lunch, he made it clear that you’re to be protected and returned to him safely.”
That would almost be romantic if it came from anyone else. But this is Dario, the man that coldly threatened me after breaking into my home just last night. Hearing that he wants me returned to him safely makes me feel like a possession.
“Where do you want to go eat?” Alessio asks.
We step out onto the sidewalk, and there’s a car waiting for us at the curb. It looks like the same black sedan that picked us up at the airport.
“It’s been a long time since I lived in Vegas. Is there a place nearby with good burgers? I’m talking, greasy goodness with bacon and salty fries. Oh! And a milkshake.”
Alessio stares at me for a moment, and I shrug.
“What? I’m pregnant, and I’m craving something sinfully delicious.”
He leads me to the car and opens the door for me. “I know exactly the place.”
It takes us twenty minutes to reach our destination, but I don’t make small talk with Alessio in the back seat of the car. I’m feeling too bitter and annoyed with my situation right now to be good company.
But when we pull up in front of a fifties-style diner, my mood lightens. The exterior of the building is all chrome and red lighting. In the dining area, the floor has black and white tiles and there’s a long counter lined with stools. The stools and booths are covered in red vinyl, and there are old movie posters from that time period on the walls.
It’s utterly charming, and I take a seat in a booth near the back, guided away from the ones next to the window by Alessio. He sits across from me, but he’s typing away on his phone when the waitress approaches, only pausing long enough to tell her that he doesn’t want to order anything.
Despite being on his phone—I assume to update Dario, based on the serious look on his face—Alessio is tense and alert at all times. His eyes scan the restaurant, which is less than half-full, tracking everyone’s movements. He’s taking his job as bodyguard seriously.
The waitress turns to me instead, order pad in hand. I don’t hold myself back, ordering a large chocolate milkshake, a double bacon cheeseburger, and extra fries with a side of ketchup. It’s a lot, and I see the waitress’s eyes scrutinize me, probably doubting my ability to eat so much in one sitting.
She might be right, but I’m starving and eating for two, so I stick with my order. When it arrives, the smell of the cooked food makes my stomach rumble and my mouth water.
I dig in right away, taking a big bite of my burger. It’s perfect, exactly what I was craving, and I’m so focused on devouring my food that I don’t realize that someone has joined us until Dario’s voice catches my attention.
“I guess you’re not suffering from morning sickness, huh?”
My head snaps to the left, where he’s standing next to our table. I swallow a mouthful of burger and tilt my head to the side.
He’s in a bad mood. I’m not sure how I can read him so easily, considering that I barely know him, but I’m sure that I’m right. I also sense that I’m not the one that put a sour look on his face.
“No,” I say, picking up a fry and dragging it through ketchup before popping it into my mouth. “So far, my stomach’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be the first to know if that changes. I hate being sick.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Alessio slides out of the booth and gives me a curt nod. “Until next time.”
I watch him go without saying anything, not sure how I feel about there being a next time. Alessio is nice enough, but I don’t like the idea of being watched by someone at all times. I’m not a prisoner, no matter how much this feels like a gilded cage.
Dario sits in the booth across from me, grabbing one of my fries and eating it before I can stop him. I want to admonish him for it, but I’m too curious about why he’s scowling.
“So, what’s wrong?” I ask, picking up my milkshake and grabbing the cherry from the top. Dario watches as I put it into my mouth, pulling the stem away, and I think for a moment that I see a flash of heat there.
He looks away, scanning the restaurant the same way that Alessio did. I’m not sure what kind of threat they think could come from the early lunch crowd at this small diner.
“I’ve had a shitty morning,” he says, stealing another fry. “I just came from bailing one of my men out of jail.”
