Page 29 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

Elio’s accent is so thick you can barely tell he’s speaking English. He’s about two seconds from disappearing into a cloud of Italian curses and murder threats… at best.

The scar on my neck, and the one across my stomach, itch.

I remember what Elio is capable of when he’s in that kind of a mood.

“I don’t ask you how you run your family, Elio,” Marco says cooly. “However, from where I stand, it seems like you, at some point, decided to maul my brother and kidnap my baby sister to get revenge on me for something I did not do.”

Sal’s trying extremely hard, but I can see a twitch in his eye.

I don’t give a fuck. This is great.

Elio growls. “She was, and is, my wife.”

“And that makes it better?”

Elio releases a string of curses and jumps forward, but Sal catches him. I give Sal a look. “Let him go.”

“No, he’s not… in his right mind.”

“That’s why you should let him go. I’ll go pop the popcorn and we can watch our very own cage match,” I say.

I can’t help it that I’m somewhat gleeful. Watching Elio and Marco tear each other to pieces would be fucking fantastic.

Except, I think I do need at least one of them in order to make sure Marisol doesn’t get back to her father.

Unfortunately, I’m not the head of an organization like Elio or Marco. We’ve been running the De Luca Shipping business, and its associated criminal shit, as part of the Rossi Imports for a while now.

If Marco’s decided to show up and fucking run it again, that means that he and Elio are going to have to figure some shit out.

Fast.

Elio and Marco stare at each other. Marco looks away first, turning to look at me. “I heard.”

I blink. “How the fuck did you hear?” and, more importantly,whatthe fuck did you hear.

“It’s not important.”

“If someone does not tell me what the actual fuck is going on I will shoot the both of you,” Elio growls.

Sal looks like he’s sweating bullets.

Fine, little brother. I’ll cover for you.

I glance at Elio. “Marco knew about Marisol and the girls.”

Elio does his best to not look surprised. “He knew… what?”

“He knew that they existed. I told him, after I found them, and asked for his help.”

“Help with what, Dino,” Elio says.

My throat itches again. I rub at it before I continue. “He helped to make sure they were protected from Marisol’s father.”

“So for how long…”

“A few years,” I interrupt.

I don’t want Elio to know more than we’re giving him. At this point, it doesn’t fucking matter.

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