Page 11 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins

“I’ll be home tonight. Bella understands.”

Of course she does. Bella was raised like I was, to be a dutiful Mafia wife. The difference is that her husband loves and respects her. She loves and respects him. I didn’t have that with Aldo.

Daniella tugs my sleeve. "Will Uncle Max have a pool?"

My chest tightens at his name, but the kids don't notice. They're too busy debating whether sharks could survive in a swimming pool.

"No way," Dario says with all the authority of a five-year-old. "Sharks need salt water."

"What if you put salt in the pool?" Daniella counters.

Their silly argument washes over me like a balm. I close my eyes and let their chatter drown out the voice in my head that keeps wondering if this is going to be a terrible mistake.

"Mama! The lady's bringing drinks!"

I open my eyes to see both twins practically vibrating with excitement as the flight attendant approaches with a tray. She eyes Nic with admiration like most women look at him. Any other Mafia Don, she might be rewarded for her beauty and attentiveness by becoming a mistress, but Nic only has eyes for Bella. Personally, I didn’t mind that Aldo had mistresses. His touch had never been like what Max’s had been.

I shake my head to rid it of the memory and focus on the here and now.

“Would you like more coffee?” she asks me and Nic.

I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

She gives the kids juice boxes and returns to the area of the plane where Nic has also brought along a small army to protect us.

"This is excessive,” I blurt out. “We don't even know if these messages are real threats."

"Someone's watching you, Gia. Following your movements." The steel in my brother's voice reminds me that he's not just my protective older sibling anymore. He’s the head of the family. "Max has the resources to keep you safe."

"And what about Max's life? His work? We can't just descend on him like this."

"He works for me."

"That's not the point, Nic." I glare at him, wondering how Max deals with the man who is his best friend now also being his Don. Does he ever get annoyed by it? "Max has his own responsibilities, his own routine. Having us there will disrupt everything."

Nic’s eyes narrow. “It’s his job.”

“I’m not his job.”

He studies me. “Max runs a tight operation. His security is top-notch, and he has the space."

"Space isn't the issue." I press on, even knowing it’s useless. After all, we’re nearly there. "The twins are… energetic. They're loud. They need attention. Max isn't used to having children around."

"They're his grand-godchildren. He loves them."

“Grand godchildren? Is that a thing?”

He shrugs. “You’re his goddaughter, so your kids are like grandchildren.”

My stomach knots at the implication that my children, Max’s children, should technically be his grandchildren. I’d never seen my crush on Max as being taboo. He’s never been a father figure to me. My brother’s friend, yes. My friend, yes. But not a relative.

Of course, I can’t voice any of this. "It's different having kids underfoot all day, every day. What if we're there for months?"

"Then you'll be there for months. Safe." Nic pauses. "Unless there's another reason you don't want to go to Vegas?"

I close my eyes, fighting the urge to tell him everything. About that night with Max. About the twins' true parentage. About how living under Max's roof might break me all over again.

"No," I lie. "I just hate running away."

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