Page 2 of Surprise Baby for the Don

Dad knows how hard I’ve been struggling to get my interior design business off the ground. He knows I’m desperate for clients, for anything that might give me a leg up, but this feelssuspicious.

“I don’t know,” I say slowly, trying to buy myself some time. “That doesn’t make much sense. Why would he want me?”

Dad’s face brightens even more, his eyes gleaming.

“Come on, Ginny, this could be huge for you! You’ve always wanted a big project, right? Something to really get your name out there? This is it!”

There’s something in his voice, something almost desperate, and it makes my skin prickle with unease. I don’t trust it. And I definitely don’t trust him to know what’s best for me when it comes to men like Mateo Rossi.

At the same time, I can feel the opportunity dangling in front of me, tempting me despite the unease. I need the work. I need the money. I need the exposure.

Maybe this is a bad idea. But maybe it’s also my only chance to get my business off the ground. I was desperate enough at this point, even if it meant my father was going to sell me out to do it.

I hesitate, looking between Dad and Cassidy, who’s watching us with a concerned frown.

“Are you sure about this, Dad?”

Dad nods a little too eagerly. “Trust me, Ginny. This is your big break.”

I glance at my sister, who’s giving me a look that says she’s just as skeptical as I am.

With a sigh, I nod. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Dad’s face lights up, and he practically drags me out of the diner. As we head down the block to his car, my stomach twists with nerves, a thousand doubts racing through my mind. I try to reassure myself that this is just another job, that Rossi’s interest in my work is nothing more than business. But deep down, I know it’s not that simple. It never is with these crime lords.

I love my father, but I don’t always trust him. He’s let me down so many times in my life that I’ve learned not to expect much from him sadly. His biggest redeemable quality is that he had the foresight to buy his apartment years ago and paid it off when I was in college, so I don’t have to pay rent. Not that living with my father at twenty-five is ideal, but it’s better than living in my car. With what I make at the diner, those are pretty much my choices.

But dad is reckless. He makes bad decisions and he rarely thinks things through. I truly want to believe that he’s driving me to a great career opportunity, but there’s a sinking pit in my stomach that tells me it’s much more complicated than that.

The drive is quiet, tense, and I can feel Dad glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. I don’t ask him any more questions, and he doesn’t offer any answers. Instead, we sit in a tense silence while I consider what I might be walking into. I could feel anxiety crawl throughout my entire body as the drive proceeded.

When we pull up to a sprawling home on the outskirts of the city that looms large over its neighbors. It looks exactly like I pictured it to. Like something out of Scarface or The Godfather. I can almost see Mateo sitting behind his desk, surveying his kingdom and a ball of nerves erupts in my stomach.

Dad parks in front of the gated driveway and walks me to the door, his hand on my shoulder in a way that feels almost possessive. He gives me one last smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Just be polite, okay?” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “And remember, this could be the start of something big.”

I nod, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling twisting in my gut. As we walk through the door, my mind races with a thousand thoughts, each one more unsettling than the last.

2

Mateo

“Don’t bother coming back until you have better news for me.”

I usher the man out and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. The quiet of my home office settles around me as my last appointment leaves. I relish these moments, this calm I have all to myself. They’re too few and far between these days, and I know it will inevitably end the moment Rocco knocks on my door to tell me someone else needs something from me. I wish I could say I chose this life, but that is never how it is. This life chooses you, by force.

Sure enough, there’s a knock on my door after only two minutes and Rocco enters, his steps unhurried as always. He can read my moods better than anyone, and today he’s cautious. He’s carrying a thick folder, one that’s stuffed to the brim and threatening to break open, the kind of paperwork that signals either an opportunity or a problem. Based on the look on his face, I would guess it’s the latter.

“Someone’s here to see you. Rex St. Croix.” He pauses, glancing at me, waiting for my reaction.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, though, so I just stare at him in disinterest, waiting for him to go on.

“Rex the Betting Man,” he says sarcastically, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

A flicker of recognition stirs, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Rex. The man’s made a career out of losses. Every now and then he’ll have a small win that makes him think he should keep betting, keep trying. His wins don’t even remotely cover his losses, though. Hence the overstuffed folder.

“Oh for fuck sake,” I groan.

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