Page 49 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
21
PAIGE
My life wasstagnant a few months ago—like a puddle on hot asphalt just waiting to evaporate into nothing. My job was boring and unsatisfying (still is), my love life was a wreck, and my damn ceiling was literally falling in. No solid plans for the future, just an endless hamster wheel of mediocrity.
Then I met Dario, and everything changed. More than once.
It started with a pregnancy test, and then I was swept up in a hurricane of chaos. Now I’m living in a luxurious apartment with a man I’d previously considered an enemy. I’m preparing to birth not one buttwobabies, and my feelings for Dario are growing stronger every day.
Things have been different between us since the day we found out we’re having twins. I freaked out initially—who wouldn’t?—but it only took one conversation with Dario to realize what really terrified me; I didn’t think this thing between us would last.
We don’t really have a relationship, but I can’t help feeling like we’ve been building toward something. Something real. When Iheard we’re having twins, I was sure the shaky foundation we’d built couldn’t support the weight of two children.
I can admit to myself now that I didn’t have faith in him as a potential partner or father. Hearing that we had double the workload ahead made me certain he’d suddenly lose interest, leaving me alone with no resources to handle the situation. Tale as old as time; girl gets knocked up, guy bails. Except now with twins. Fantastic.
Even as I grew closer to him, I always expected him to give up on this unplanned pregnancy. It was another invisible wall between us that I didn’t realize existed until we were in the car and he made it crystal clear that he’s in this for the long haul. The idea of twins doesn’t worry him at all. He wants to be a father to them.
But that’s not all he wants.
He wantsme. I knew he was attracted to me—the passion we’ve shared when we slept together can’t be faked. But it was a revelation to learn that he thinks of me ashis.
Not that he’s made a move since then.
A week has passed, and we’ve fallen into a routine. My morning sickness is finally easing up, so he’s not stuck in the bathroom with me every morning, holding back my hair. Instead, he’s been leaving early while I sleep in. This whole growing-two-babies thing is exhausting, so I’m taking full advantage of any extra rest I can get.
He spends the day doing whatever mafia business he needs to handle, and I don’t ask what any of it is. Some rocks are better left unturned. I’ve spent my time at the apartment, blissfully alone. I got along with most of the guys he had watching overme, but I was starting to go crazy with the lack of privacy. I wasneveralone.
Now, I’m enjoying my time at the apartment without someone watching me like I’m a child.
And maybe I’m a little pissed off that Alessio is an Andretti. I specifically didn’t want to be around any of them, aside from Dario. It’s bad enough that I’ve softened toward him, but to form a friendship with another Andretti makes my sins against my own family even worse.
I was starting to consider Alessio a friend, and I can’t help feeling like he tricked me into it. Like I was the butt of some cosmic joke—ha ha, look at Paige getting cozy with another member of the family that destroyed hers. Hilarious!
I don’t want to see him or anyone else that works for Dario since I don’t know if any of them are hiding that they’re related to the Andrettis. Trust is already harder for me to give than blood, and realizing I was tricked into liking Alessio before I knew he was one of them feels like a sucker punch.
Dario insists it wasn’t intentional. He says that Alessio didn’t know about my vendetta against the family when he told me he wasn’t an Andretti. In his mind, the fact that he doesn’t carry their last name means that he answered the question honestly.
That may be true, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. So, I’ve been relieved to have the apartment to myself and haven’t called anyone to escort me outside this building. It’s been hard because I’m not a fan of being cooped up. I was leaving the apartment almost daily before I learned the truth about Alessio, going on walks, shopping for maternity clothes, and eating lunch at various restaurants in the city.
For the first couple of days, I didn’t say a word to Dario about my restlessness, but he proved to be more observant than I anticipated. On day three of being trapped inside, I was in a shitty mood and spoiling for a fight when Dario got home that evening.
I didn’t get one. He walked in the door, saw me pacing around the living room like a caged animal, and told me to put on a dress because he was taking me out to dinner.
I had a great evening with him, and we’ve gone out a few nights since then, just often enough to keep me from climbing the walls. He takes me to a different place each time, knowing that I love trying new restaurants and dishes I’ve never had before.
We don’t talk about what it means, but they feel like dates. Even when we’re at home, there’s a romantic atmosphere around us. We hang out, enjoying each other’s company, either watching TV together or silently reading and drawing. Sometimes we just chat.
It’s comfortable, as if I’ve known him for years, but there’s a sexual tension crackling between us that comes through in small, intimate touches and heated gazes.
We haven’t slept together again, but I know Dario wants it. The signals are all there, but he hasn’t pushed me. He’s waiting for me to make the next move.
I wish I could. My doubt is holding me back.
I hate it, but no matter what Dario has said, it’s hard for me to push aside my fear. I’ve been abandoned too many times, left alone too often. I can’t bring myself to commit to Dario.
Tonight, Dario has taken me to eat at a Mexican restaurant.
“I don’t know how you can eat something so spicy,” I say, eyeing the extra hot salsa he’s dipping his tortilla chips into. I tried a tiny portion of it at the beginning of the meal, and I swear my tongue is still burning like I licked a lit match.
