Page 75 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
He opens his mouth to argue, but his phone pings with a text message at that moment. He frowns as he reads it.
“Fuck. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you this evening.”
He bends down to press a kiss to my lips, and then he’s gone, weaving through the tables with the confident stride of a man who expects the world to move out of his way.
I start scanning the menu. Everything looks so good, and the spice-laden air is making my mouth water.
Only a few minutes pass before the chair across from me is pulled out. I glance up, expecting to see Luca there with his familiar scowl. My heart skips a beat when I find myself staring into the eyes of a stranger instead.
“Hello, Paige,” he says, his expression solemn and official.
I take in his appearance in seconds, processing him like a threat assessment. Mid-forties, dark hair, black suit that screams government. He’s tense, his shoulders rigid beneath the tailored fabric, and I feel a flash of fear. If he’s here to hurt me, I’m defenseless.
Dario will never forgive himself for leaving me alone, even for a few minutes.
“Who are you?” I ask, relieved when my voice comes out steady and strong.
Instead of answering right away, he reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and I jerk back in my chair, sure that he’s going for a weapon, despite the public setting.
My entire body goes limp with relief when I realize he’s pulling out a wallet, not a gun. Flipping it open, he shows me his identification.
“FBI?” I breathe the letters like a curse.
The relief that he’s not part of the Bratva battles with the dread pooling in my stomach at the reality of being approached by a federal agent.
“Special Agent Anderson Boggs,” he says. “I’ve been hoping to find a time to speak with you.”
I frown. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“No, you haven’t. Not yet.” His tone makes it clear that the “yet” is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.
That feeling of dread grows stronger, spreading through my veins like ice water. I want to leave, but I feel frozen in place, a mouse hypnotized by a snake.
“Your brother contacted the FBI field office on your behalf. A Gabriel Dawes?”
I nod mutely. I can’t believe he did this. The last time we talked was weeks ago, when I told him about my relationship with Dario. That conversation ended with me telling him to lose my number, but Ineverthought he’d take things into his own hands like this.
“What did Gabe say?” I ask, though I already know. My brother has just painted a target on my back. On our backs.
“He said that you are heavily involved with a known criminal, Mr. Dario Andretti, and that we might be able to help each other.”
My eyebrows shoot up in feigned surprise. “A known criminal? That’s interesting. Can you tell me what crimes Dario has been convicted of in the past?”
A flicker of annoyance passes through Agent Boggs’ eyes. “Technically, there’s been no conviction, but the Andretti family has long been suspected of having deep ties to organized crime.”
I widen my eyes in what I hope looks like shock. “That’s quite an accusation. I’m not sure why you’re telling me about it.”
Agent Boggs sits back in his chair and studies me with narrowed eyes. I know I’m not a good liar, but I hope I’m fooling this man.
“My sources tell me that you’re living with Mr. Andretti.”
I nod again. There’s no point in denying it. “Yes. And we’re expecting.”
My hands go to my baby bump, and the importance of this interaction hits me. If I say or do the wrong thing here, implicate Dario in anything illegal or nefarious, I could cause trouble for the father of my children, a man that I’ve come to care about more than I ever thought possible.
Anger pulses through me as I think about Gabriel putting me in this position. My own brother, selling me out to the feds.
“Surely, you don’t want your child to grow up around criminals and lowlifes,” Boggs says, his voice dripping with condescension.
