Page 35 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
The new security system was installed after his uncle’s wife was kidnapped—a sobering reminder of the world Dario inhabits. I’ve been repeatedly warned never to open the door without checking the cameras first.
I have no expectations about who could be ringing the doorbell, and I certainly don’t think it’ll be someone I know. But when I see the face on the screen, the world around me goes silent.
It’s him. Lorenzo Andretti. The man who killed my father.
16
DARIO
My erection disappearsas I see the color drain from Paige’s face.
I’d give pretty much anything to go back in time to five minutes ago when she was warm and pliant in my arms. I was so damn close to fucking her again, and being interrupted pisses me off, but things just got much worse.
Paige’s hands tremble, and she keeps her eyes locked on the TV.
“I have to let him in,” I tell her, but she still doesn’t say anything. There’s a distant look in her eyes, and I wonder if her mind is in the past.
Fuck. My dad rarely comes to visit, so I didn’t even think to ask him to stay away.
Paige isn’t going to take this well, but I can’t disrespect my father by refusing to let him in. The fact that I even consider it is dangerous.
I leave Paige in the living room, her body still rigid with shock, and open the door. My father’s dark gaze sweeps over me—taking in my rumpled clothes, my swollen lips, the frustration that must be rolling off me in waves.
I don’t straighten my shirt. I don’t apologize for my appearance. A flash of defiance burns through me instead. Let him see. Paige ismine. If I want to fuck her senseless in the middle of the day in my own home, that’s my business.
“We need to talk,” he says without preamble, brushing past me into the apartment with the casual authority of a man who’s never had to ask permission for anything in his life.
When we enter the living room, Paige has transformed. She’s glaring at my father with a look that would make most men take a step back. Most men aren’t Lorenzo Andretti.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react at all. I know he’s giving her a pass because she might be carrying his grandchild, but she’s playing with fire. That tolerance has limits.
Before I can suggest she give us some privacy, she turns on her heel and fixes me with a look so venomous it feels like a physical slap. Then she’s gone, each step up the stairs a thunderclap of accusation.
With each step she takes, something tightens in my chest. It’s not only the sex I’m missing out on—it’s the connection. The warmth. The way she was starting to look at me like I was more than just the monster she first thought.
Gone. All fucking gone.
“What can I do for you, Dad?” I ask, heading back to the kitchen. I need a drink. Several.
“I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to discuss business.”
I grab the bottle of Macallan 25 from the cabinet—the good stuff for the Don—and pour myself a generous measure. I raise the bottle in silent question, and he nods.
His glass goes down in one swift gulp. Mine burns a slow trail down my throat as I wait for him to speak.
“We have a shipment of weapons coming in next week by truck,” he says, his expression unchanged by the scotch that would make most men gasp. “I want you there to oversee everything, make sure it all goes smoothly.”
I frown. This isn’t normal protocol. “Are you expecting trouble?”
The old man’s eyes narrow slightly. “Kozlov is pissed about his casino plans being ruined, and I expect the Bratva to try to strike back soon. I want you there to deal with them if they do.”
Translation; be ready to kill if necessary.
“Of course,” I agree instantly. I’ve never said no to my father. Never even considered it until today, standing at that door with Paige frozen behind me. My loyalty to the family is absolute, unquestioned.
But for the first time, I feel the weight of it. The cost.
“Good man.” He pours himself another scotch, casual as if we’re discussing the weather instead of potential bloodshed. “So...how are things going with the little woman?”
