Page 42 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

I don’t even know why I’m saying this. Moretti could be lying to me. He could have said that to me to gain my trust, so that I don’t try to run again.

However, given that Moretti hasn’t hurt me yet, and the fact that he’s been… It feels like the bar is in hell to say that he’s been kind, because he hasn’t.

But he’s a man of so few words, I can’t imagine that he would use them on a lie.

So I take a deep breath, and say what’s on the tip of my tongue. “I need to get my mom out of here. That’s my plan. I’ll come willingly. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’ll be his doll. But I need my mother to walk out of this place. Alive,” I add.

His hand wavers. “I don’t know…”

“That’s what I’m doing. You can try to keep him from hurting me if you can, but if it comes down to pain in exchange for my mother’s freedom, I’ll take the pain,” I whisper.

I don’t give him a chance to respond. I unbuckle, open the door, and pause.

The door snaps open and Moretti follows me.

I take two seconds to adjust myself. I’m still wearing the same clothes from when I left the Rossi estate. They’re nothing but workout attire.

However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk in like I’m ashamed.

I throw my shoulders back, tilting my head forward. When I stride into my father’s home, it’s as though I own the place.

As if I am the Mafia princess he’s making me out to be, and this is the castle that I’ve always been promised.

The guards melt to the side, and I feel Moretti at my back like a stalking panther. When I push the doors to the house open, there’s no lock on them.

They bang against the walls.

“Papai,” I say, the cutesy term sour on my tongue. “I’m back.”

For a minute there’s silence.

Stunned, presumably.

Then my father belts out a laugh.

I take the time to assess the situation. My mother, to my relief, is sitting at the dining room table with him. She looks pale, but unharmed, and she’s looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

I smile at her. “Mãe, you’re looking well.”

“And you, my beautiful daughter,” she purrs.

Benicio finally stops laughing. “And you think you can just what? Waltz back in here and pretend that you did not run from me? That you did not cause the death of so many of my men?”

“It’s hardly my fault that they were incompetent, Papai,” I snort.

This is the game with my father. Any sign of weakness,which he can sniff out like a bloodhound, he will take and he will squeeze between his fingertips untilhe pops it like a pimple. His specialty is to cause pain, which he seems to take pleasure in doling out.

My mother warned me of this, many times.

So yes. I am absolutely going to pretend that I didn’t run. I’m going to make the whole thing seem like a game. He has largely forgotten that I have two children, after all.

I’m going to make sure he doesn’t remember.

With my shoulders still held back and my head up high, I sidle into the seat next to my mother. She leans my way, her knee barely brushing mine.

She’s shaking.

My heart sinks.

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