Page 13 of Mafia Billionaire's Surprise Baby

Before Sal can ask me any more questions, the door to the club opens.

A large, surly man blinks down at me. He mutters something in Czech, which is not a language that I’m fluent in.

I’m pretty sure he isn’t asking for my coffee order, though.

That’s really all the Czech I know. I could also tell him to fuck off, but I don’t think that would be helpful either.

I’m about to give him my post pitiful English please look when, to my complete shock, I hear the person behind me reply.

In fluent Czech.

I whip around and try to take a peek to see if there’s anyone else there, but there isn’t.

Meaning that Sal speaks significantly more Czech than I do.

The bouncer gives us both what can only be described as a hairy eyeball. Sal steps forward and offers to shake his hand. I see the telltale pale edge of a banknote disappear into the bouncer’s fist, and then he nods.

He lets us both in.

I fluff my hair and stand tall, strutting into the club like Sal’s bribe had been my plan all along. It’s only when we’re firmly situated at a VIP table, which Sal also obtains by bribery and Czech promises, that I throw an arm over him like I’m bringing him close.

The music pulses around us. This club is dark as hell, as is the norm in Prague, and the flash of lights and lasers gives everything around us the impression of a stop-action film.

So I’m hopeful that it looks like I’m just another silly heiress whispering sweet nothings to her boy toy when I pull Sal’s ear to my lips.

“You never told me you speak Czech.”

“You never asked.”

That’s fair.

I never thought I had to, which is also fair. For the majority of the time I’ve been connected to Sal, he’s readily offered plenty of information.

Now, though…

I don’t really like secrets. It might not seem like that to the outside observer because I also spend a significant amount of my time gathering them like candy from a piñata, but it’s less about the fact that I covet them and more about the fact that I can’t stand being out of the loop.

I’ve been out of the loop before. Plenty of times.

My dad loved to leave me out of things because Elio was more important.

So the fact that I suddenly have no idea how many languages Sal speaks…

“Any other linguistic skills you want to share?”

“Unless you’re asking what my tongue can do for you, then no, Gia.”

I don’t let him see that I blush at the statement.

Instead, I pull away and survey the club. The bottle girls try to do their whole song and dance with a giant magnum of champagne, but a few choice words from Sal and they’re gone too.

A bottle of champagne, however, stays.

Good job, Sal.

I reach forward. He pours me a glass, and I lean back, sipping on it.

Bleh.

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