Page 8 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
“They love you,” Jill says softly, but I can hear the understanding in her voice. She knows what it’s like to feel like an outsider in your own family.
“I know they do. But love doesn’t mean they understand me.” I finish my coffee in one long gulp, grimacing at the bitter dregs. “Besides, this is temporary. Once I get it sorted out, there’s no reason for them to ever know it happened.”
“So what’s the plan?” Olivia asks. “Are you coming home with me or staying here to fight this out?”
The question hangs in the air between us. Going home means safety, normalcy, my boring job and my predictable life.
Staying means facing Lorenzo again, dealing with whatever game he’s playing, figuring out why he wanted to marry me in the first place.
The smart choice is obvious.
But when have I ever made the smart choice?
“I’m coming home,” I hear myself say, even as something rebellious inside me protests. “I’m not changing my plans for some controlling asshole who thinks he can trap me in a marriage.”
Even if that controlling asshole happens to be the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even if the memory of his hands on my waist makes heat pool low in my belly. Even if there’s a part of me that’s curious about what would happen if I stayed.
I’ve always been drawn to dangerous situations. But this feels like it might be more danger than even I can handle.
The real question is, do I want to find out?
4
LORENZO
I watchthe construction crew work on the hotel expansion, hard hats moving between steel beams and cement trucks. They’re ahead of schedule, which is exactly what I need right now.
“Looking good,” Paolo says, coming to stand beside me. My brother’s got that satisfied look he gets when our plans come together seamlessly.
“Better than good.” I watch a cement truck lumber into position. “The sooner they finish, the better I’ll sleep knowing what’s buried under there.”
Keith Foley’s body lies fifty feet beneath my expensive Italian shoes, wrapped in plastic and concrete. The bastard had it coming. He was an accountant on my payroll over a decade ago who faked his death after stealing from me. But he crawled back into our lives recently, working for the Bratva and planning to hand over his own daughter to them. The daughter he tried to trade? Paige. My son Dario’s wife and the mother of my grandsons.
Dario put Keith in the ground himself when he learned the man was going to betray Paige to our enemies. I was proud.
Now Keith’s rotting corpse will hold up a ballroom and twenty luxury suites. There’s poetry in that, I think. The dead supporting the living, quite literally.
“Perfect solution,” Paolo murmurs, and I notice a smear of lipstick on his collar, probably his wife Quinn’s. Eight months post-baby, and those two still can’t keep their hands off each other. It’s nauseating and oddly endearing at the same time.
I think about my own wife—my wife, Christ, that still sounds surreal—and my mouth curves. She’s probably pacing her hotel room right now, plotting her escape. The thought makes my blood heat. Mia with her fire up is something to behold.
The five-star hotel gleams in the desert sun, the crown jewel of my legitimate empire. But right now, all I can think about is getting back to that hotel room where my beautiful, stubborn bride is undoubtedly scheming.
Focus, Lorenzo. You’ve got a war to fight.
The Bratva’s been pushing harder lately. Kozlov thinks he can muscle in on my territory, take what three generations of Andrettis have built. The arrogant fuck has another thing coming. But wars cost money and blood, and I’d prefer to keep both on my side of the ledger.
That’s where Mia comes in. My secret weapon, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Santino appears from the hotel’s entrance, his expression grim. My consigliere never brings good news with that face.
“Problem with tonight’s shipment,” he says without preamble. “The MC got raided. Their clubhouse was torn apart by the feds. They’re being watched.”
Fuck. We can’t afford delays, not with the Bratva breathing down our necks. “Dario offered to make the run?”
“He did.” Santino’s tone tells me he already knows my answer.
“No. He stays put. Paige just had twins, I won’t have her alone with newborns for days.” Family comes first. Always. “Send Alessio. Give him backup.”
