Page 54 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

Paulo swears in Portuguese. “You’re fucked up.”

“Marisol is my problem,” Andrei says.

The hair on my arms raises as he says it.

Because even though he called me a problem, it doesn’t sound like that’s what he’s saying.

It sounds like he’s sayingMarisol is mine.

And I’m really not sure how to feel about that.

“Deal with your problem then,” Paulo hisses.

In a swift movement, Andrei steps back. He plucks the knife from Paulo’s hand, earning a fresh cry from Paulo. Paulo cradles his bleeding palm, giving both of us a dark look before he hastily scoots into the hallway.

My heart skips as I look at Andrei.

We haven’t been alone together since he brought me back. Since I found my dad and my mom at dinner.

Since I counted him in, and made him my… what? Keeper? Babysitter?

Guard dog?

Andrei is staring at me. Not for the first time, I notice that he’s handsome. However, it feels distant. He looks handsome like a sculpture or a painting, something beautiful to look at, but cold and distant.

He certainly doesn’t make my heart race like Dino does.

I take a deep breath. Between the adrenaline from Paulo trying to force his way into my room and the drug that my mom used, my system is panicking, and I have no idea what to do to get it to calm down.

Andrei tilts his head. “Are you hurt?”

“No. What happened?” I might as well start there.

“About ten minutes ago, your father went to your mother’s room and discovered that she was gone. Security footage shows you in her room last, but you were not in there. You were in here,” he says, gesturing to my room.

Unlike Paulo, he doesn’t try to enter.

“Yes. I was… asleep,” I say.

His eyes narrow slightly, and I know that he picked up on the hesitation in my words.

“I was really tired. The journey was hard, you know. And… the trauma. It’s just a lot.”

“I see,” he says. One of his weirdly well-groomed eyebrows raises. “The trauma.”

“Yeah. The trauma.”

“So you do not know where your mother went?”

“No,” I shake my head. I’m not even lying about that. I have no idea where my mother went, or who she went with. I know that she’s heading back to the States, of course, but beyond that?

Nothing.

“Interesting. I also found this, when I was looking through her room,” Andrei says.

I look at the small perfume bottle in his hand, and recognize the spray that my mom used on me to knock me out.

“She loves that perfume,” I sigh, like I’m missing her.

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