Page 61 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

I’m fine.

He doesn’t move again.

Benicio opens the door to the house and the sound of the door slamming against the frame makes me jump. “Let them in!” he shouts to Paulo. My father turns to me, his grinturning sour as he does. “There will be no funny business from you, girl.”

I toss my hair back and set my shoulders. “I know what I’ve done.”

“You’re here willingly because if not, I will kill your mother.”

He’s clearly posturing. We both know that my mother has her ways with him, and he’s never quite been able to master them. All the same, I nod, showing him that I’m not going to fight. “I’m here willingly, father,” I say.

He stares at me for a minute before nodding. “Good. You’re not going anywhere. This is… if you do, I will come for more than just your mother,” he says darkly.

My eyes snap up to his.

This is the first time that he’s threatened the twins.

Ever.

My heart feels hard, but my father turns, waving me away. “Open the gate, Paulo.”

Paulo, whose hand is still in a bandage, shoots me a glare before snapping an order into a radio. Minutes later, we hear the sound of tires and an engine, and a car pulls into the courtyard.

Out steps a tall, pale man with a shock of white blond hair. His blue eyes run up and down, and I want to hide.

“Alexei Volkov. Russian,” Andrei whispers behind me.

“Thank you,” I murmur back.

The Russian shakes hands with my father before heading inside.

Another car appears. Then another. I listen to each of their names, muttered softly behind me, while I evaluate all of them.

Vuk Pavlovic.

Luca Costa.

Bastien Deloitte.

Johnny Spinoli.

Five men. Five people that I need to be on guard around, constantly. Five sets of hungry eyes…

My eyes widen as I hear another car drive up. My father, who was about to head inside, pauses. He mutters something to Paulo, who shrugs.

The guards lower their automatic rifles, pointing them at the car.

There’s a long moment before the door opens. Everyone is staring. There were only supposed to be five men here.

This sixth one?

Clearly, someone messed up.

Behind me, Andrei steps forward so he’s right at my shoulder. He’s staring into the car, his gaze as focused as a panther on the door.

The hair on the back of my neck raises.

Finally, the door to the car clicks open.

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