Page 19 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

Salvatore’s gaze drops. Before he can reconsider the offer, before he can think too much about me being bedded by some stranger and having his children, I interrupt the thought.

“But I want something else in return. The way I see it, this is a favor to you and Marcel, and I want a piece of the bargain.”

Salvatore laughs softly under his breath. I think it looks like pity in his eyes, or maybe grief, for the girl I used to be, who would have never dared to ask for anything from anyone.

“Name it,” he agrees willingly.

“I want a better position within the family. Something else. I don’t want to be a nanny, or a cook, or a housekeeper. I want a job. Arealjob. I want what Frankie has. Not her job exactly, but…something.”

Salvatore sighs.

He doesn’t like it.

“And you want me to convince Marcel that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t care if he thinks it’s a good idea. I want you to convince him there’s nothing he can do about it either way.”

When Salvatore smiles, I see a hint of the relation between him and Nico—smiles that have nothing to do with happiness. That have meanings of their own. He nods.

“Fine. But only after the wedding. Once you’re officially a Mori, then we can look into a position for you.”

Salvatore stands and extends his hand.

I glance down, my future held there in his empty palm.

For a few seconds, my arm feels too heavy, like lead. I know this isn’t what I want. But that doesn’t matter. The only thing I want is six feet deep, and it’s not coming back. I grasp his hand and seal my fate. The deal is done. With one handshake, I am going to be married.

“Go to bed, Ava, and get some sleep. Let me deal with Marcel.”

My brother waits outside the office, his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. He watches me go, suspicious of what transpired behind closed doors. I avoid his gaze as I step by him.

“Goodnight,” I call to him. His eyes follow me until I slip into the darkness of the house, and then he rounds on the office door and disappears inside. I almost feel bad for Salvatore as I walk away. I’ve always thought his job must be the most impossible one of all—pleasingeveryone. He might have sent me to get some sleep, but I know he won’t be having any.

The floorboards creak behind me.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I glance over my shoulder.

A silhouette stands at the end of the hallway, darker than the shadows around it. I recognize the shape. The footsteps approach. A steady, prowling pace.

Nico.

I turn away from him and march toward my room, but I feel the constant approach of his feet behind me. My heart flies into my throat on instinct, like a child on the basement steps, feeling the monster nipping at my heels. I slip into the safety of my room and slam the door between me and him.

I lock it just as the doorknob rattles violently.

I flip on the light, watching the knob turn and shake, backing away.

He really is crazy.

“What do you want?” I ask through the door.

No response. The doorknob is still. The clock on the wall ticks loudly, my own heart keeping the rhythm like a metronome. I inch forward, pressing my ear to the door to listen. My ears strain to hear through the silence. I can almost hear something, just there on the edge of my awareness—breathing? The door slams suddenly, sending my feet skittering backward as the hinges rattle.

Anger bursts in my chest, and I march to the door and rip it open, annoyed and done with his antics.

“What the hell do you think you’re—”

The hallway stretches on into darkness.

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