Page 52 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

“Again. I didn’t know that.”

She sighs and pulls back. Her brown eyes are pinched with worry, and she lightly plays with a tendril of hair. “Did you really think he was going to do something to me?”

I nod. “How could I not? He stormed the house in Florida with basically an army. He took you from me, and there was gunfire and the girls…” my voice trails off and my lips tremble.

It was terrifying.

I’ve been through a lot with Benicio as a dad. I’ve been through a lot of stuff with my mom.

Seeing her taken at gunpoint from the house is not something I want to repeat.

Ever.

Nor do I want my girls to see that ever again.

“Even if that’s the case, my love, don’t you think that I would rather put myself in harm’s way so that you and the girls would be fine?” she says, her eyes kind.

“I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t,” I utter.

“Ay. So fierce. You might be named for sunlight, but I think sometimes there’s a storm in you that few understand,” my mom says with a smile. She holds me close again, and I spend a last second cherishing her touch.

She pulls back. “I have to go now.”

“You’re still not telling me who is coming to get you, are you?”

Smiling, she shakes her head. “No. But I think you should probably lay in the bed. No matter what you hear, don’t come out, okay?”

“Mamá…”

She takes out a spray and sprays the air between us. The smell from the spray is sharp, and I sneeze against the harsh scent. “What’s that?”

“Oh, you know. Just something to make sure no one can blame you for this.”

“What?” I try to look at her but my head is starting to feel fuzzy. The air around me shimmers, like it’s having a hard time staying… real.

I go to move my lips, and they don’t seem to do it.

“If this man of yours, the father of your children, is anything like your father, he’s going to come here for you,” she whispers. It almost sounds like I’m in a dream, and my eyelids feel heavy and they start to droop. My mom gently tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the bed in her room. I follow her and flop onto it.

The covers smell like her. Patchouli and Dior.

“You’re going to have to make some tough choices, Marisol. Just make sure they’re choices for you, and you don’t make them for anyone else.”

Choices? “Ma…”

I can’t even finish the word.

I’m asleep before I can, and the last thing I remember is my mother laughing quietly, and the press of her lips on my forehead.

Someone is yelling.

I know that I need to wake up to figure out what’s going on, but I just… I can’t seem to. My head feels heavy, like it’s stuffed with cotton, and my eyes won’t open.

I have to get up.

Portuguese. Words flying around. Suddenly someone is banging on a door, and I manage to blink my eyes open.

I’m in my room. Not that the small space that is behind a false wall could be called much of a room, but it’s where I’ve been designated to stay when I’m here. The last thing I remember, I was in my mom’s room, so to get here…

---