Page 12 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

I shut my eyes, remembering it.

5 years ago

I found her.

I thought that Marisol, my dream girl, was lost. After I woke up and never saw her again, it seemed like something that was a complete non-starter. She wasn’t with me. I didn’t know her last name. I didn’t know shit.

Until a letter appeared at my doorstep, with a picture of her.

And two kids wholook like me.

There’s no fucking way it’s her. But here I am, in Fort Lauderdale, looking for her.

Because if she is who I think she is?

I’m in a whole fucking mess of trouble.

I’m outside of the shop that they just went into. The person who sent me the letter told me that if I don’t pay, they’ll come after her. After all three of them.

And they’ll make it seem like it was our family who did it.

Marisol’s father will wipe my family from the face of the fucking earth if that’s the case. He’s so much bigger than we are.

And so much worse.

The little bell on the door rings, and I duck, trying to stay out of their way. Sure enough, Marisol and two kids, twin girls, come out. They chat animatedly in Portuguese, and I regret ever failing out of Portuguese in high school.

Fuck.

There’s no denying the kids are mine. I grab my phone and type out a number. There’s only one person I know I can count on right now.

“Dino?” my brother rumbles.

I suck in a breath.

And I tell Marco four words that I never thought I’d say.

“I need your help…”

A knock on the door jars me from my memories. My eyes snap open and I shut off the water, grabbing a towel and opening the bathroom. I march to the door of my bedroom, wrapping a towel around my waist.

I open it.

It’s Sal.

“Brother,” he says simply.

I ignore him, turning to rummage through a drawer. I produce a pair of basketball shorts, then step inside the bathroom, tugging them on without any regard for Sal’s presence.

When I emerge, I glare at Sal. “The fuck do you want.”

“My wife almost tased you.”

I nod. “I have a feeling she would do that a lot if she could.”

Sal nods. “You’re not wrong. But you can’t deny that it’s kind of warranted.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

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