Page 33 of Risky Vows

But something inside me has shifted. Maybe it's the intensity of my emotions over the past few weeks or the newfound confidence that Massimo helped me find. Or it could be even the fact that I don't know what the future holds.

Time is too fucking short, and I've had enough of her needling.

"The show will start soon," my mom says. "We should go sit."

"What show?" My dad asks, scratching his chin. "Where are we, again?"

My mom touches his elbow. "We're at a birthday party, honey. The burlesque show will start, the one I told you about a few minutes ago, honey," my mom says, a touch of embarrassment in her expression as she leads him away from us.

19

Massimo

I sitat one of the round tables close to the stage. Amara and Nico are on either side of me. She chats with him and the others at our table, including my brothers Rocco and Dante, about a detective TV show she's started watching. I enjoy the domesticity of her getting along with my brothers.

Sadly, I've mostly kept her to myself in the past weeks, but I should take her out more and have her spend time with my family. I know she married me because she had to, but it seems like she's into me now. And God, do I want her to be.

I have to double-check myself before I get too excited when she's around and say things I can't take back. Say things that would open a part of me that I've tried to keep shut for too long.

I couldn't protect my mom from harm. But I'll protect Amara until my last breath.

"Hey, man." Dante slides into the other chair next to me. "We need to talk," he says in a low voice, looking around to ensure no one else is paying attention.

"Can it wait? The show's about to start." I point at the stage, and guests take their seats as the emcee starts talking.

"I got a girl pregnant."

"Okay. How did that happen?" I ask. When Dad remarried, he made sure he didn't have more kids with his new wife. He taught us to always use protection so that we wouldn't father kids left and right at an early age. But maybe Dante went rogue.

Dante touches his collar, glancing around us. "A very slow drive-through lane. Anyway, she's eight months pregnant and called me a few minutes ago."

I square my shoulders. "You need a paternity test."

He rubs his temples. "No shit."

"Who is she?"

"Someone I saw for a few months."

"Why didn't she tell you sooner?" I squint my eyes, thinking. Anyone knows our family has excellent financial standing. As much of a liability as a mob wife can be, it also offers outstanding perks: money, protection, respect, and power.

"Andie said she wasn't going to. But then she had to pay for all these doctor's appointments. She’s due in a few weeks, and she needs help. She doesn't have any support system." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I needed to tell someone. If it's my child, I'll step up to the plate."

I squeeze his shoulder. "Don't worry yet. We'll figure it out." In my head, I ponder logistics. This woman's life won't be the same if he's the father. She'll have to live in a protected area even if they're not together romantically anymore. She'll need security whenever she sets foot out the door.

Being a father will make Dante more vulnerable to people who want him dead. And we have to make sure nothing happens to his kid.

"Thanks, man.Cazzo, I feel better. Don't tell anyone yet."

"No worries, bro." I nod at him. "Keep me posted."

The lights are off, and guests clap. Okay, good. I hear the background music, a jazzy ballad, and the emcee gestures at the performer. I hired this service several times before and requested a new burlesque performer. Hopefully, one my father hadn't seen yet. I'm sure he's seen his share of them at clubs and parties.

I'm expecting a brunette with pale skin, but a blonde woman appears on stage, wearing a long red dress and a long black hat, making it hard to see her face. A few men catcall. The light shines on my father, and more clapping ensues.

"She's so pretty," Amara says.

The woman tips her head up and winks at the audience.

---