Page 18 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

The room is dead silent. I shut my eyes. “I’ll go as soon as I can.”

“Like hell you will,” a voice rasps.

My eyes snap open.

In the doorway, there’s a familiar shape.

My heart aches, meeting Dino’s dark green ones for the first time in almost a decade.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarls.

Heart thumping in my chest, I hold my head up high.

“You don’t get to say that,” I respond.

“Yes, Marisol. I definitely fucking do.”

The room clears out quite quickly after that.

Gia gives Dino a meaningful glare, while cheerfully informing me that she will happily tase him if she needs to. I give her a grateful squeeze before she files out, the rest of the crew behind her.

Dino shuts the door behind them, but I have no doubt that they’re hovering in the hallway.

It’s weird. Even though Dino is Caterina and Sal’s brother, it’s almost like they’re closer to their respective partners than they are to him.

For a second, I realize that Dino must be…

Incredibly lonely.

I shift, uncomfortable with the realization. I assumed that if he was here, with his people, then he’d be fine.

Welcome, even.

But I don’t know that ‘welcome’ is how I’d describe their relationship with him.

He stares at me.

And I stare back at him.

He looks… different. Obviously, time has passed since we last saw each other. And I know I look different too.

But where time might have softened some of my edges, they’ve hardened his.

He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and loose shorts, an outfit that I imagine is something he wears when he’s at home or relaxing, but it doesn’t make him look vulnerable. Quite the opposite, it makes him look…

Well, he looks like he just escaped jail and threw on the first thing he could find.

His face is all angles. There’s nothing of the boy that I found on the beach all those years ago.

Even his eyes look different. They’ve always been such a dark green they look almost black, but now, there’s nothing even hinting at the green.

They seem to burn, like something inside of him is on fire.

Beneath the lines of his face, I can see the column of his throat. It’s covered in dark ink, but as he steps closer, I can see something else.

There’s a long, twisted scar running across his neck.

The kind you only get when someone tries to cut your throat.

---