Page 44 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

“Let mother go, and I’ll make your marriage competition even more interesting.”

Benicio looks at me.

I can feel Moretti’s eyes burning a hole in my shoulder. I slice my chicken, neatly and into small pieces, showing off the fancy etiquette lessons my father paid for me to attend in Paris as a teenager.

“Let mother go, and I’ll add a complication to your trials. Moretti will serve as my champion. Anyone who gets through your games has to get through mine,” I say softly.

There’s silence in the room.

“Think of it, father. It was so easy for me to leave. So easy for the Rossi’s to find me here. So easy to just walk out. The rumors. The holes in your security. You wouldn’t want them to think you weak. But with Andrei as my champion, he’ll be unstoppable. Truly, the only ones who can defeat him would be the ones you’d want as a son-in-law, no?”

His eyes narrow. “What makes you think that I had not planned to do that anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter. Moretti already swore his loyalty to me, and agrees that this idea will be the best for the organization.”

This is where I need Andrei to follow my lead.You told me you wanted to help. You told me that you would keep him from hurting me. This is the only way. Please,I mentally beg him.

It’s a leap of faith. Moretti doesn’t owe me anything. He has no reason to do this.

But my relief when he speaks is so great, I almost sag in my chair.

“I will do this,” he says in that thick Italian accent. “It will make it seem as though you are stronger than you are. The security is too weak. If I walk among the competitors, I can find the strongest one. And then they must get past me,” he adds.

I look at my mom. Her eyes are round.

Benicio nods. “Isadora, pack your things. Marisol, you have a deal.”

Thank you.

8

DINO

You are notour father’s son.

I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. Lots of bad shit. A lot of shit that I’m not proud of, but I got through.

This?

I feel like the center just fell out of my world, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do with the hole that it left.

My ears are ringing. Marco’s mouth is moving, and I have no fucking clue what he’s saying.

All I hear is the same thing, over and over again.

You are not our father’s son.

“Dino,” I finally hear, the sound distant. “Bernadino,” Marco says, louder this time.

I look at him, but I have absolutely no idea what to say.

How could I?

How is there any possible response to what he just told methat doesn’t include me melting my brain from the inside fucking out?

You are not our father’s son.

“Breathe, Dino,” Marco says.

---