Page 23 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia Don

I rip through the makeup drawer, amassing a trove of lipsticks and eyeshadow palettes. They’ve arranged for a candlelight dinner date at a restaurant, somewhere classy and upscale. I’m on the clock. Two hours to hide the truth. Somehow, I have to make it look like I was sleeping peacefully last night, not getting into fistfights and barely coming home before sunrise.

I’ve retreated to the third floor. It may be the only place in the house where Nico can’t follow. Salvatore has been extra protective now that his daughter’s nursery is up here, and I imagine Nico is at the very bottom of the allow list.

But I’m far from alone.

Salvatore’s wife, Contessa, offers me one of her old dresses and an all-access pass to her makeup trove, all while standing off to the side and giving me a look of concerned disapproval. Maybe that look simply comes with being a mother, or maybe she’s practicing on me. Either way, she’s good at it, and it puts me on edge.

“I can’t believe Sal didn’t consult me,” she says again in a furious whisper. If she didn’t have her baby on her shoulder, I think she’d be yelling. “Just because something happens at four in the morning doesn’t mean I shouldn’t hear about it!” She paces the bathroom tiles furiously, bouncing Emma in her arms. “SalknewI’d never let it happen if I was there!”

“Tessa, it’s okay,” I try to tell her, though judging by the glower I’m given, it’snotokay. I turn back to the mirror and busy myself with piling more mascara onto my eyelashes.

I understand why Tessa’s upset. She’s the highest-ranking woman in the house. In a way, she is responsible for us in the same way her husband is responsible for the family men. Since this agreement happened so spur of the moment, without Tessa’s knowledge or approval, of course she feels slighted and concerned.

More than the head of the family, Tessa’s my friend, and she’s worried about me. I wish I could appreciate that more than I do. Like everyone else, Tessa thinks she knows what’s best for me, but right now, the only thing that’s best for me is the concealer I’m dabbing over my sleepless dark circles.

Do I need to impress this man, or is his approval of the arrangement already a sure thing? Salvatore is probably paying him to take me. I try not to feel any particular way about thatas my fingers wrap around a dark red lipstick that will mask the bloodied cut.

Emma starts to fuss in her arms.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Ava?” Tessa asks me over the babbling. “There are other ways to get around Nico, I know there are. I can help if you’ll let me. We can call the whole thing off before it goes too far.”

“I’m sure,” I tell her, trying to sound as calm and rational as I can, staring at my own smoky eyes in the mirror. Why is it so hard for everyone to believe that I simplydon’t care? That in my own way, I’m coming out on top of this deal. Whatever parts of my life a husband will take over, I didn’t have any plans for them anyway.

Tessa has her baby to worry about. The last thing she needs to do is worry about me, too. When the crying keeps up, Tessa finally sighs and excuses herself to try to put Emma down for a nap.

I stand alone with my reflection.

It takes a few minutes to get used to her.

A dark little smirk pulls at the corner of my painted lips. I can’t remember the last time I dressed up, and Ineverdressed like this. Seeing me in a short dress and sharp winged eyeliner might fast-track Nico to the insane asylum, and I’ll be the hero of the day.

The amusement in my gaze sours into a glare, and I admonish myself for such a stupid thought.

I’m a few hours from meeting the mysterious man who will play a pivotal role in my future. Myhusband. So why am Istillthinking about Nico? The man is like a disease, and now that I’ve caught him, there’s no getting rid of him. The last thing I need is more of his attention.

I sneak back to my room to get the things I couldn’t while I was hiding out upstairs: a pair of heels, a bag, and a thong to better suit the outfit. I don’t know how far my husband-to-be will want to take our first meeting, but I figure I better be prepared for all outcomes.

As I push open my door, I find something unexpected in the middle of my bed. A new iPhone, fresh out of the box and already set up. I flip through it, confused, wondering if it was Marcel or Sal who replaced it. My fingers swipe across the screen, then go still. A single name is added in the contacts list—Nico.

My stomach thumps with surprise. He must have gone into the city today.

I glance around the room, and I can’t help but feel as if I’m being watched. Everywhere I look, I expect to see him. Suspicion creeps into the edges of my thoughts until I feel the phantom sensation of eyes on me.

There’s nowhere for him to hide. I know that, and still…

Maybe I’m just expecting to see him. Maybe I want to.

The thong I left on my bedroom floor is gone. Of course he’d really take it, the psycho. I dig through the rest of the clothes that I just cleaned, rummaging deeper and deeper into the pile offresh laundry. Slowly, I piece together what’s happened. I rush to my dresser drawer only to find it emptier than it should be.

Nico hasn’t just taken the thong I gave him. He’s takenallof my underwear.

“That fucker,” I whisper, slamming the dresser shut with a huff. I don’t have time to play scavenger hunt, and my pair of pink cotton boy shorts aren’t going to work under the short red dress I borrowed from Contessa. I could ask to borrow something from her, but then I would have to admit what Nico’s done.

He leaves me no choice but to go without.

Which is exactly what he wants…

I pretend to feel nothing as I slide the panties down and step out of them, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror. If I don’t see myself, maybe I can convince myself I don’t enjoy these little games he’s been playing with me, that the brush of cool air between my legs gives me a thrill as Nico calls the shots without a single word.

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