Page 10 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Heir

My throat feels dry. “Who told you?”

Mikey smirks. “Nobody told me, I saw you with my own eyes, little bro. See, I know Larry has all the confidence in the world that you’ll pull this off, but he’s also in prison because of you. I had to take matters into my own hands before Pops got involved.”

Mikey laughs manically. “You definitely don’t want that old fart seeing you hugged up with Newton’s kid after everything that twerp has done.”

“You gonna tell him?” I ask as my chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it.

“And make his blood pressure go up even more? Hell, no. You’re lucky he’s too bogged down with his court case to give a shit about this,” Mikey admits. “But I care because I don’t like folks getting one over on Pops.”

I frown and admit, “Isn’t this just Newton not paying him back?”

Mikey stares at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask me that question. But I can guarantee his shady daughter knows. Once you see those Newtons for who they really are, you won’t be so quick to make out with the daughter.” Mikey glares at me for another ten seconds before backing down.

“I’ll give you the chance to make things right. But if I come back here and it’s the same—” Mikey pulls his gun out of his pocket and points it at my head. He pulls the trigger.

I jump, relieved that it’s not loaded. Mikey laughs like it’s a joke and wraps me in a bear hug, drowning me in his cologne.

“Crazy if I kept the bullets in, right?” he teases.

I wiggle free, forcing a laugh. “Yeah, real crazy.”

He shrugs. “I always keep at least one.” Mikey’s face drops back to being serious. “I’ll be back soon, little bro.” I remain standing in the hallway as he walks out of the door and gets in his truck. I don’t move until the silence returns.

I don’t like people telling me what I can and can’t do.

CHAPTER 7

Rosa

Something changed in Vinny after the mysterious visitor. I wish I’d been bold enough to eavesdrop on the conversation, but I was terrified I’d be found out. The protocol is to hide in this tiny closet, crawl space. This will give Vinny time to make an escape plan for me. Although it keeps me safe, I wonder what’s keeping him from just doing what he needs to do. That part still hasn’t been explained. I make peace with it when Vinny rushes into the room and opens the closet crawl space. His left brow has beads of sweat on it and it's almost like he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“We should take a trip,” Vinny rushes in.

I frown. “Trip? You could barely take me to the coffee spot.”

Vinny crawls in beside me. “Who gives a shit? There’ll always be someone watching.” I laugh nervously, not able to tell if he’s being serious or not. I don’t have any say over these things but a trip would take some of the edge off.

“Where would we go?” I move closer so that our fingers are touching.

“Somewhere I know my folks wouldn’t be caught dead,” Vinny answers. “Pack a bag and be ready in twenty.”

Vinny crawls out of the closet and I start packing.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be in the Hamptons. I used to watch movies about the ultra-rich worrying about their first-world problems with overpriced designer clothes. Now, I’m one of them. The only catch is I’m wearing a brunette, a pixie wig and a floral dress. It takes everything in me not to laugh at Vinny’s fake mustache and paisley shirt.

“The only way we can go into the Hamptons without me looking over my shoulder is if we look like two, boring rich people just passing through,” Vinny explains as we’re driving through a tiny neighborhood.

“I’ve never seen houses as big as hotels,” I say as I stare in awe at the decadent homes.

“Yeah, it’s all for show,” Vinny mutters. “Most of these people are robots.”

“Maybe, but it sure helps to be a rich robot,” I tease. Vinny stops the car in front of a plaza with several small shops.

“Alright, this is a place I don’t tell people about. We’re in disguise but we need to be in and out before six. I can’t risk any more pop-ups,” Vinny tells me.

I readjust my wig in the mirror. “Then why leave?”

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