Page 61 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
She looks at me with trust in her eyes—trust I never thought I’d earn after what happened to her father. She listens when I speak. Not because I’m the son of Lorenzo Andretti, but because she valuesme.
We still go out in public together, but I don’t trust my instincts alone to keep her safe anymore. I have men tail us at all times. Paige fought me on that. Not because she minded the security, but because she hated that I thought I wasn’t enough.
Damn, that woman slays me without even trying.
So far, the Bratva has been quiet. No more attacks. No more bullets fired in my direction. That should bring me peace, but Idon’t trust silence. Every time I take Paige out, my muscles stay coiled, my mind scanning for threats, because I won’t let her, or our babies, become casualties of this war.
And make no mistake, itisa war.
The hunt for the man who pulled the trigger started the day after the shooting, spearheaded by my father and brother. But the trail went cold fast. The bastard disappeared.
I took over the search myself, obsessed with finding him. I caught a glimpse of a partial plate as he sped away that day, which turned out to be stolen, but it gave me a place to start.
Then the Bratva stole my revenge.
Four weeks into my search, the son of a bitch turned up as a bloated body in the Colorado River.
Shot in the temple. A quick death.
I waspissed. Not only had I been robbed of my chance to end him myself, but the fucker didn’t even suffer.
Still, at least one good thing came of it.
The Bratva had been at the top of the suspect list before, but now? Now, there was no doubt. Dumping bodies in the river was their signature move. I’m sure they were behind the shooting. Probably the attack at the gym, too. But without evidence, I can’t be certain.
None of that changes the fact that I still want vengeance. My arm might be fully healed—days of diligent physical therapy returning its strength—but the wound inside me still festers.
No one threatens the life of my woman and walks away unscathed.
“I’m at the bar,” I tell Luca when he calls one afternoon.
The Andrettis own several legitimate businesses, and I oversee many of them—including this place. But lately, profits have been slipping, and I’ve been here all afternoon trying to figure out why.
He knew I was coming here today, but I’m surprised to see him when he shows up a short while later. There’s a serious look in his eyes, and I know I’m not going to like whatever he came to tell me. The bar isn’t crowded—which is part of the problem we’re having—so there’s no one near us to overhear the conversation. Still, he speaks in a low voice when he says “Kozlov has men dealing coke in our territory. Near the motel. Been going on for a few weeks.”
Fury tightens my muscles.
The Andrettis own a seedy motel on the east side of the city. It’s useful in its own ways, but one thing it’snotis a Bratva playground. Selling drugs near our businesses without permission? That’s not just a slight. It’s an act of war. The bastard must have a death wish.
I exhale slowly, forcing my anger into something sharper. Something I can wield.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Luca doesn’t ask where. He already knows.
When someone disrespects the family, they don’t get to walk away.
We find the dealer’s house two blocks from the motel. It’s a shit hole—cracked siding, sagging porch, the stink of stale weed and bad decisions clinging to the air.
I don’t knock.
I slam my boot into the door, splintering the frame as it crashes open. Inside, the living room is a disaster—empty pizza boxes, crushed Monster cans, ripped-up furniture. But the massive flat-screen and three gaming consoles tell me exactly where their priorities lie.
Two men are on the couch. Scrawny. Wired.
Not my guy.
One jumps up, panicking. He trips over an empty box, goes down hard, and slams his head against the coffee table. Out cold.
