Page 80 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
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PAIGE
I didn’t meanto tell Dario how I feel about him in the middle of a fight.
Those three words weren’t supposed to come tumbling out of my mouth like panicked birds escaping a cage. I’ve felt this way for weeks now, maybe longer, but I didn’t have the courage to tell him, unsure if he feels the same.
It’s not the right time to tell someone you love them when you’re spitting fire at each other. And it’s definitely not the right way. I would rather have chosen a more intimate moment—maybe in bed after he’s made me come twice, when his eyes are soft and my defenses are completely dismantled, when we’re both floating in that perfect, hazy afterglow that makes everything feel possible.
Now it feels tainted. I haven’t felt this unsure of his feelings since I first moved in, when every smile and touch felt like it came with an invisible expiration date.
“I...I didn’t mean to say that...” I’m trying to backpedal, but the smirk on his face tells me it’s too late. The words are out there, suspended in the air between us, impossible to take back.
“But you did say it.” His voice is velvet over steel, smug and challenging all at once.
“And you said a lot of shitty things,” I snap, my hackles raised after exposing my feelings like that.
Dario closes the small amount of distance between us, so that my bulging stomach is pressed against his flat abs. His hands cup my face, and I have no choice but to look him in the eyes—those intense green eyes that seem to know exactly which buttons to push to make me melt.
The hostility he came into the house with has faded away, like storm clouds clearing after a violent summer shower. But I’m not sure I’m so willing to move past it. He hurt me with his accusations, with the doubt in his voice when he questioned whether the babies were even his. That cut deeper than any knife.
“I know,” he says. “I’m an asshole. I just...I need to know the truth, Paige. Did you tell that FBI agent anything?”
“No!” I snap, stepping away from him. His hands fall from my face, and I immediately miss their warmth. “And I haven’t been working with him. Do you really think I want the father of my children in prison?”
Then I remember the way he questioned the paternity of our babiesagain. I thought we were past all of that, and it feels like my heart has been fractured, splintered right down the middle by his doubts. The pain must somehow be reflected in my facebecause Dario closes the distance between us again, this time holding onto my arms with a desperation that makes me go still.
“I know,” he says. “I know I shouldn’t have said that about the babies. I believe you. I know they’re mine.”
“Don’t lie to me.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “You didn’t believe me a few minutes ago about not talking to the FBI. How can I trust that you believe me about the babies?”
My bottom lip quivers, and Dario curses under his breath—a rough, savage sound that somehow manages to be tender. He pulls me into a hug, and I try to resist giving in to the comfort of his arms around me, but I can’t do it. I find myself melting into him, burying my nose in the hollow of his throat and clinging to him like he’s solid ground.
“You meant it, didn’t you?” he asks, his voice vibrating through his chest and into my cheek. “You love me?”
I could deny it, but what would be the point? I wanted to tell him eventually anyway, and maybe he needs to hear it. He was out of line tonight, but I can’t help thinking about the little boy he used to be, long before he was a hardened mafia man. He was just a kid with a stutter that suffered torment from his peers for something he couldn’t control.
That part of Dario, the child that faced rejection and teasing for years, still lives inside of him like a wounded animal that lashes out when it feels threatened.
“Yes,” I say, lifting my head so he can see the truth in my eyes. No more lies, no more hiding. “I love you.”
Dario kisses me, hard, like a man starving for affection. But I pull away after a few seconds, not ready to let him off the hook so easily.
“But,” I continue, “things between us will never work if you don’t trust me.”
Dario nods, running a hand through his hair. “Can I ask you something? Doyoutrustme?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Dario looks surprised, and I’m tempted to smack him in the head to knock some sense into him. How could I claim to love him if I don’t trust him?
After everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve seen him do—from making sure I never run out of saltine crackers when morning sickness had me hugging the toilet to holding me through the night when pregnancy nightmares wake me up screaming, I know how I feel.
“You took a bullet for me, Dario. In the past few months, you’ve proven yourself to be someone I can depend on. Do you know how much I’ve needed that in my life and how long I’ve gone without it? Of course, I trust you. Of course, Iloveyou.”
I swear, I canseethe last of Dario’s walls crumble. He lets out a long breath and presses his forehead against mine. Tension eases out of his body, and his eyes close, the furrow between his brows smoothing out.
“I didn’t know you saw me like that.”
