Page 91 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

Tomorrow.

I don’t know if Dino will be here tomorrow.

But I will be.

17

DINO

I dream of Marisol.

It's so fresh in my mind now, all the things that I used to think I had imagined. The way she tastes. The sweet smell of her. The little moans that she makes when she's kissing. The feel of her thick hair wrapped around my fist. Half of these things I thought that I fuckin' made up, because there's no way that they could be real.

There's no way that they could have been as good as I remembered them.

Except now, it's clear that they are that good. I kissed Marisol yesterday, and now my mind keeps running through the sensations that aren't forgotten anymore.

They're fresh.

Marisol is real. The spark I thought I might have imagined between us is still a fuckin' five-alarm fire.

And I still gotta win this fuckin' thing to get her home.

Johnny raps on the door frame. "Hey boss,' he grins, looking me up and down. "I see you didn't die from some kind of freak spider incident."

"Nope. Did not."

"Did you get to see your--"

I cut him off, pulling him into the room and shutting the door. "Damn, Johnny," I hiss. "Shut the fuck up where people can hear you."

"No one's here, man. The Russian and his fuckin' lackey are out running laps in the garden."

I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Probably because your girl is out there and they think that they have some kind of chance with her if she sees them without their shirts on."

I snort. Marisol isn't someone that's impressed by shit like that.

We don't really know each other.

Her words from yesterday echo in my mind. I sit up on my bed, looking over at Johnny. "You have shoes you can run in?"

"Man, I can run in basically anything. Come on, Dino. You know better than to ask that," he grins.

"Good. Let's go."

Johnny trails me out into the barracks hallway, and then to the main house and garden area. I say the garden, but it's really so much more than that. There's a terrace that backs up to the house, which is where the fight took place, and is the only place that I've currently seen Benicio sit out on. It's also theonly place that I've seen Marisol outside of the house, so I assume it's a somewhat integral part of this whole place.

The garden is much bigger. It extends for about an acre, maybe an acre and a half, to the north of the house away from the terrace. The house's main entrance is on the South side, with the pool wall, and secret maintenance tunnel, arching to the west.

The day is hot. It feels oppressively humid, like the clouds above us are heavy, and they're sinking down to ground level.

"Fuck this," Johnny pants as we make our way to the garden terrace. "It's so humid out here, I think that I'm going to just turn into a damn frog or something."

"You're from New Jersey. You can handle a little humidity," I call back at him.

Johnny, however, clearly doesn't agree. As we run, he continues to mutter and gripe, but I tune it out.

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