Page 11 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Heir

“Because I’m a goddamn man and can do whatever the fuck I want,” Vinny snaps. My cheeks get hot but he immediately apologizes. “That wasn't directed at you, Rosa.”

I shift in my seat and stare out the window at a woman in a polka dot dress with a huge sun hat. “Funny, because I’m the only person with you.”

“My family has no idea who I am outside of the things I have to do, Rosa. This place…is my only escape,” Vinny motions towards the plaza.

“You couldn’t pick another country? The Hamptons are—”

“Let me show you why I come here,” Vinny cuts in. He rushes out of the truck and I reluctantly follow him. I do my best to keep my sour mood despite Vinny pulling me close to him. Strolling through an upscale neighborhood in my finest attire, accompanied by Vinny, we pass by all the top luxury brands as if we own it. I have no desire to escape this lavish atmosphere. We pass lots of glitzy stores until a dimly lit one shows up towards the left. Vinny grins and opens the door.

“Prepare to have your mind blown,” he whispers as we walk inside. The walls are black with glowing portraits. I see painted masks and hear Celtic music.

“What is this place?” I ask in awe.

Vinny smiles. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it after being hammered one night? I fell in love with Celtic art history and now it’s my comfort.” I would’ve never pegged Vinny as the type of guy to stare at art pieces in wonder. But we spend a lot of time walking slowly around the gala. Eventually, our conversation stops and the art does the talking. I watch as his eyes fill with emotions and try to see if I can decipher them. Vinny is like a boulder, though. While my feelings for him continue to complicate, I keep reminding myself I couldn’t have chosen a worse match. I might not ever know what his real intentions are.

I find a little redemption when we have dinner overlooking the ocean. It’s almost evening and we’ll be leaving soon. The wig is starting to poke at the sides of my face and Vinny’s mustache is falling off. Once the main dish is set in front of us, Vinny ditches the mustache. I’m thankful he fills the silence with conversation again.

“I have a few pieces in my place,” he says.

It didn’t occur to me he lived anywhere else. “Your place?”

He grins. “I squat in Seattle.”

“Squat?”

He hangs his head. “My brother’s old spot before he went to prison.” The casual mentions of his murderous family or wealth make me feel itchy. I continue to eat and try to forget about the reality that’s hanging over me like a mist. In a few hours, we’ll be back in the cabin pretending I’m not supposed to be dead.

I can’t put it off a second longer.

“Who was that at the door this afternoon?” I blurt.

He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he tosses his pasta around and chews on his cheek. I’ve seen Vinny do this look before. It makes him look like a little kid. I start to wonder what he was like as a kid and then I stop hating him. The push and pull of my emotions can’t be anywhere near normal.

“Rosa, I don’t have the best answers for your questions,” he finally admits. “I want to protect you and promise you that no harm will come to you…but I’d be lying.”

My throat suddenly feels dry. The delicious pasta and wine are no longer appetizing. “You want to protect me but you can’t tell me who was the guy checked if I was dead. Why?”

He leans back in the chair, looking across the ocean, too. “It’s too complicated to explain.”

I slam the wine glass down, causing a few people to stare. I don’t care. “No, you wanna know complicated, Vinny? It’s not knowing if I can trust my parents. It’s seeing my Dad and Mom beaten in front of me. I’ve known since I was a kid that I’m on borrowed time. So, don’t give me a weak answer, Vinny.”

Vinny exhales. “How could you want anything to do with me?”

The million-dollar question. “I don’t know.”

“See, I’m not the only one,” he jokes.

“No, it’s different. I literally don’t know why. You’re arrogant and you took my freedom away. But when I’m with you, time disappears and I feel normal.”

“How do you know it’s not that thing victims get when they—”

“It’s not Stockholm syndrome,” I tell him through gritted teeth, and I would know. He’s not the first person to hold me hostage. Maybe it’s my screwed-up childhood or me trying to trick him into liking me more. But I’ve fallen for Vinny. Judging by the way his lip keeps twitching, I decide to keep that to myself.

“I’m not ashamed of how I feel,” I throw in.

Vinny nods, grabbing my hand. “Me neither.” We have another awkward pause and Vinny once again finds something to chat about. He agonizes over the art scene in the Hamptons and how grocery stores look like small hotels. I almost doze off until he asks, “Let me know when you need any of that lady stuff.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, snapping back to life.

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