Page 40 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

The world spins.

“The fuck did you say?”

7

MARISOL

Moretti findsme about a mile outside of the Rossi’s home.

It’s amazing, truly, how fast he is. One second I’m walking down the road, completely alone, and then the next, there’s a dark shape in front of me.

If he wants to startle me, though, he’s going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that.

“I’m here,” I say softly. “I’m here, and you can take me to him.”

Predictably, Moretti doesn’t say anything.

I’m certain he is capable of speech. He’s spoken in front of me before.

I think.

He doesn’t often do it, though. Moretti is a man of few words, which works for me.

He doesn’t need to speak.

And neither do I.

Without another word, he escorts me to a blacked out Dodge Charger. I raise my eyebrows at it. “Seems a little obvious, no?”

“It’s a police vehicle,” he says, his words heavily accented, showing his Italian upbringing.

I raise my eyebrows. “And that’s less conspicuous?”

“They aren’t looking for it,” he replies.

Okay then.

Moretti opens the passenger door for me and I get in. I buckle, and he slides into the driver’s seat, starting the vehicle with a throaty roar.

He slams his foot down on the accelerator, confident and controlled, and we’re out.

We don’t speak.

The private airstrip is an hour away. I’m surprised Moretti hasn’t blindfolded me, but I’m not going to say anything about it.

I guess it would be kind of weird if he had to explain it. Especially since the passport he hands me lists that we’re married, a couple heading back to Brazil after our honeymoon.

God.

It’s like some kind of sick joke.

What’s amazing is that as soon as it’s assumed I’m Moretti’s new wife, no one looks at us twice. They don’t notice that there’s absolutely zero affection between us. No one makes any comment on the fact that Moretti and I barely speak.

I don’t know why I’m expecting more.

I’ve never seen a marriage that has affection, so I guess it’s normal enough for everyone.

That’s not true.

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