Page 110 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

He tugs me down the hallway, taking me to my room. I don’t protest.

“Clean yourself up. Shower and then I’m calling the doctor,” Andrei hisses.

The doctor is one of my least preferred members of my father’s staff. He’s a blustery old man who likes to touch mylegs way too much. “I’m fine, Andrei. I’m definitely going to take a hot bath but then I’m going to bed.”

“No. You might be sick. I won’t let you…”

That rubs me exactly the wrong way.

I turn, glaring at him. “You don’t control my body, Andrei. If I say I’m feeling fine, there’s no one in the world who knows how I’m feeling better than I do. If I say I’m feeling sick, I will ask for the doctor, but you don’t get to act like you know better than I do what is happening in my own body,” I snap.

Andrei’s face turns harsh. For a minute, my heart rate skyrockets, and the hair on my neck stands up.

This is the killer that everyone’s afraid of. This is the man that my father hired to keep everyone at bay.

This is Andrei in his truest form.

And he’s staring at me.

I step back, my eyes wide. “Andrei. I’m fine,” I reassert gently.

I hate myself for taking some of the heat out of my words, but I’ve lived around dangerous men for long enough to recognize when I need to play into their egos.

Right now?

I need to pretend.

Andrei shakes himself, and the killer gaze fades. He steps forward, reaching for me.

I flinch.

Emotions flicker across his gaze before his expression goes carefully blank again. “If you feel even a tiny bit unwell, you will call the doctor,” he mutters.

I hate that it’s yet another command, but I swallow my pride and nod. “I will.”

He studies me for a minute longer. I remember that I’m wearing his coat and slide it off of my arms, holding it out for him.

He takes it, but his eyes linger on me.

“There’s dirt on your dress,” he says, his eyes sticking around my knees.

Oh.

Oh dear.

I must have gotten it dirty when I was kneeling in front of Dino, taking him in…

Do not blush.

“I fell,” I say cooly, trying to lie as evenly as possible. I am a practiced liar, especially when it comes to the men I need to keep at a distance.

Andrei’s eyebrows raise. “You fell?”

“The rain made some of the rocks slippery,” I explain. “I slipped and fell.”

“On your knees?”

“And my hands, as is pretty normal with a fall,” I say softly. I see Andrei’s eyes slide to my hands, and I resist the urge to clench my fists so he can’t examine my palms for cuts.

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