Page 26 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

I glance up, surprised by the feeling of a slight smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“No, sorry,” I whisper, clearing my throat and silently chastising myself for letting Nico bait me into his games. I turn the phone over in my lap and fix my expression.

“We may need a no phones at the table rule.” He laughs softly, but I don’t think he’s joking. “I don’t talk for my own benefit. At the end of the day, this is a business meeting, and there are matters we need to get out of the way if you can spare your oh-so-coveted attention…”

“I’m listening,” I assure him, keeping eye contact while my phone trembles on my thigh again and again.

“I like to run a very traditional household. Of course, I’m not unreasonable. I just won’t tolerate being disrespected. You’ll have to stop dressing like a whore, for instance,” he says. The insult catches me off guard, and I swallow my food too early. It scrapes through my throat all the way down as I stare at him. “And you’ll be expected to keep up your appearance. Watch your weight, keep yourself presentable. Nothing unusual, and nothing that seems like it’ll be difficult for you. You’re very pretty. Of course, one should never be complacent. If you want any work done, I’d be comfortable paying for that. I prefer blondes, too, and you’ll need to grow out your hair more than that.”

My fingers run through the ends of my shoulder-length shag reflexively, the sudden checklist of all the things wrong with me catching me off guard. What Thaddeus Mori wants is a blonde,busty trophy wife to hang on his arm, and he already has an endgame image in his head.

Suddenly, the wordsthat’s a good starthave a different meaning.

“Salvatore told me you aren’t interested in other partners,” he continues right on, ignoring the way I’m staring at him. “Is that true?”

My phone hums, as if calling me out on the lie I’m about to tell.

“It’s true,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.

He nods in approval.

“Good. But you also need to understand, a man’s character and reputation aren’t impacted by his fidelity. Not in the same way as a woman’s. If you have a reputation, that reflects badly on me. If I have a reputation, that’s par for the course. You’ll need to be alright with that.”

I’m exhausted just from hearing him talk about his expectations. I don’t care what this man thinks of me or who he sleeps with. Better them than me. I write it off as another part of the deal that means nothing to me.

“That’s fine,” I force myself to say.

“That’s a pleasant surprise. You know, I also want to make this work,” he assures me, reaching over the table and taking my free hand. It catches me off guard as he curls his fingers around mine. “I’m sure you have your own expectations.”

I try to think of anything I might want from this man. For him to let go of my hand would be a nice start, and if we’re going blow for blow, I should probably ask him to have a nine-inch dick and add a couple more inches to his height.

I lower my eyes and drown the words in wine, instead. I will make this work, and I will not be a bitch about it. For Marcel, and for me.

“If I’d known you wanted a list of demands, I would have come better prepared.”

“You don’t know what you want in a husband?”

I smile at him, chewing on the wordsI don’t want a husbanduntil they’re small enough to swallow instead of spit out.

“What I want out ofthis, I’ve already been promised. I’m sure we both have.”

“Quite right.” Thaddeus smiles as we start on the next course.

When I flip my phone over, I find Nico has sent a volley of texts, rapid-fire, one after the other:

That won’t change when he has you in bed, either.

I bet he won’t even eat pussy.

Has anyone ever done that to you, Ava? Do you know what you’re missing?

You need me to get between your thighs and show you?

Unsubscribe.

I turn the phone over again, but an uncomfortable heat has already blossomed in the pit of my belly. I try to focus on something else. Thaddeus tells me about his life and his work—he plays some administrative role in the conglomerate of businesses owned by the Mori family. His work sounds mostly clean and unquestionable, boring enough that it can’t fully keep my attention. He asks me nothing more about myself.

I try to focus on the room instead, but every smell and sound brings back memories of Vinny in full, agonizing technicolor. I have nowhere to retreat but inside my own head, where Nico lurks between every other thought.

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