Page 34 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
The knot of guilt in my chest tightens like a fist. Safe? With Dario’s goons watching my every move whenever he’s not glued to my side? Having a great time? While I’m caught in the crosshairs of whatever dangerous game the Andrettis are playing?
I wander toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the Vegas skyline. A sea of neon and possibility stretches in every direction. I’d always thought I’d never come back here after what happened to my family, but being back doesn’t sting the way I expected. There’s something about this city—the way it pulses with energy, with life—that feels like home despite everything.
“And what about the father?” Rosa asks, her voice shifting into gossip-mode. “Is he treating you well? Excited about the baby?”
I bite my lip. “Yeah, he’s thrilled.”
Except he’s not entirely convinced it’s his. And he’s the heir to a crime empire. Minor details.
“That’s it? You get along great? And you’re living with this guy?”
The suspicion in her voice is thick. I’ve never been a good liar. My entire face broadcasts deception like a neon billboard.
“I’m happy right now, Rosa,” I say, surprising myself when the words don’t feel like complete fiction. “And as for Dario...I’m falling for him.”
The truth is messier than that. A tangle of attraction, fear, suspicion, and something deeper I’m not ready to name. But I’d rather Rosa think I’m a lovesick fool than have her worry herself sick.
“I’m really happy for you,” she says, though I can tell she’s reserving judgment. “I’m shocked by all of this, but I’m not going to judge you. Speaking of that...have you told Gabriel?”
I cringe so hard I nearly pull a muscle. My brother—the wholesome used car salesman with the picture-perfect family who coaches little league on weekends—would have a coronary if he knew about any of this. Gabriel had escaped Vegas and reinvented himself as the poster boy for suburban respectability. An unwed pregnancy would be scandalous enough; the fact that the baby daddy is an Andretti would be nuclear.
“No,” I admit. “I haven’t talked to him, but I will.”
Eventually.
We end the call after Rosa mentions her upcoming hospital shift. I tuck my phone away and turn around, only to have my soul nearly leave my body at the sight of Dario watching me from across the room. His broad shoulders fill out his crisp button-down in a way that should be illegal, and the intensity in those dark eyes lights up something low and traitorous inside me.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelp, my hand flying up to my collarbone. “You scared the hell out of me.”
His mouth curves into that lazy half-smile that does dangerous things to my insides. “I came in a few minutes ago and sent Carl home. I didn’t want to interrupt your phone call.”
Great. So he’s been eavesdropping. Fantastic.
I brush past him toward the kitchen, the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and expensive—following me like a shadow. The fridge is now fully stocked, a far cry from the bachelor wasteland it had been when I first arrived. In addition to the chef-prepared meals, there’s enough fresh produce and snack foods to survive the apocalypse.
“I heard what you said,” he murmurs as I grab the orange juice.
I pour and take a deliberately slow sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He closes the distance between us in two long strides, cupping my chin with callused fingers. “You said you were falling for me.” The cockiness in his smirk should irritate me. Instead, it sends a bolt of heat straight between my thighs.
“Maybe I’m a really good liar,” I counter, blindly setting my glass on the counter because I suddenly can’t remember how limbs work.
“You’re a shit liar.”
I can’t even argue with that assessment. His body presses against mine, and I feel the unmistakable ridge of his arousal against my stomach.
When did this shift happen? When did I stop being terrified of who he is and start wanting his hands all over me? I don’t know, and right now, with fire racing through my veins, I don’t particularly care.
His fist tangles in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp as his lips brush my ear. “I like that you’re a bad liar. I want to know what you’re really thinking. So, tell me, are you hot for me, baby?”
My breath catches as his free hand traces the curve of my waist. “Tell me,” he demands, his voice rough with need. “Do you want me to bend you over the kitchen island?”
“Yes,” I breathe, my inhibitions crumbling. “I want you. God, I need to feel you inside of me.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, his tongue claiming me as thoroughly as his hands. My fingers clench his shirt, holding on for dear life as he grabs my ass and pulls me tighter against him. My thighs clench with anticipation?—
The shrill chime of the doorbell slices through the moment like a knife. Dario groans as he tears his mouth from mine, leaving me dizzy and disoriented. It takes me a moment to process what’s happening as he strides to the living room and grabs the remote to pull up the security camera feed.
