Page 38 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

I don’t know what to say to that.

“Did Dad help, when you found yourself in situations like this? When your mouth wrote a check that you couldn’t cash?”

Studying him, I consider his words. Dad didn’t help me at all. He looked down on me, always angry with me. Always making an effort to point out how I’d fucked up.

He never offered to help.

“No,” I mutter reluctantly.

“I know. I was there. The point isn’t that Dad was cruel to you, Dino, even if he was. The point is that I am not.”

“But you…”

“I never said I didn’t keep secrets from Elio. Or Sal. Or Caterina,” he says softly.

That does make me pause.

Marco looks at me for a second. Marco and I are close in age. Close enough that it’s almost suspicious. He’s older than I am, but only by ten months, and that’s where the similarities between us end.

Marco is built like dad. Thick. Broad. We’re both tall, but he’sslightly shorter than I am, with thick brown hair and heavyset eyebrows.

We have our mother’s eyes, I guess.

But I’ve buried every genetic similarity I have to my siblings under tattoos. I’ve never worked out like Marco, or even done sports like Sal, but I’ve spent every fucking second I could in my life learning how to fight.

I might not look thick like Marco, but if you’re going to get punched by one of us, you don’t want it to be me.

It won’t just be a punch. I’ll have a knife in there too. That’s for damn sure.

Still, when Marco looks at me with that glare, it reminds me so much of dad that I…

I glance away.

“I don’t keep secrets from you, Dino. I never have.”

His voice is… different.

I look back at him.

Marco shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He inhales, exhaling in a long sigh.

He looks tired.

For the first time in a long time, a fissure of concern about my older brother spikes through me. I went to find him when he went into hiding because I had to. I had to know what he was doing, had to know how I could continue to protect my girls.

Had to know if he was going to ruin my life.

But Marco did go into hiding… for me. He chose to work with Interpol.

I think.

“You look bad,” I say.

It’s the closest I’ve ever come to asking my older brother if he’s okay.

Marco’s eyes snap open. “Did I ask you to be a fucking beauty consultant, Dino?”

“You didn’t ask me for shit,” I snap back.

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