Page 11 of Surprise Baby for the Don

Rocco sighs, shaking his head. “I understand that, Mateo,” he starts sincerely. “And I respect it. But sometimes, in this business…” He stops, for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “To put it frankly, the Savinis are snakes. And to catch a snake, you have to think like one.”

I lean back, mulling over his words, the implications of what he’s saying. The Savinis aren’t going away, and I know that better than anyone. They’ve been testing my patience, pushing boundaries, waiting for me to break. My father would wantpeace, but he’d also want me to protect the family at all costs. Even if that meant war.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, my tone final. “And listen, don’t put in your papers just yet. We’re not done here. There’s still work to do. I still need you.”

He gives me a small, knowing smile, tipping his head in acknowledgment before he rises to his feet. He comes to stand next to me, squeezing my shoulder in a fatherly manner. “Of course, boss. I’ll let you get some rest.”

As he heads for the door, I finish the last of my whisky, feeling the warmth of it settle in my chest. The door closes softly behind him, leaving me alone once more in the dim light. He’s right, of course. That’s the thing about Rocco, he’s always right. Age may have slowed him down physically, but he’s still as sharp as a tack. I’d trust him with my life, too, because that kind of service and loyalty can’t be bought with any amount of money.

I rub a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. My father’s legacy, the peace he maintained for so long, is all on my shoulders now. It’s my job to ensure that his life’s work means something. But keeping that peace with the Savinis isn’t going to be as easy as it sounds. Not with the way they’ve been pushing me, testing me. Rocco’s right. They don’t honor agreements. And the longer I try to keep the peace, the more they try to push in, to try and get me to crack. Snakes, indeed.

I shake my head, trying to force the thoughts aside as I stand, shrugging out of my suit jacket and undoing my cuffs. My mind drifts, unbidden, to Ginny St. Croix. It still doesn’t sit right with me that a father would use his daughter as collateral, especially without her knowledge or consent. Of course, Rex is the lowest low, but he knows that she’s worth ten of him.

She’s young, smart, and most of all, she’s got that fire in her. The way she looked me in the eye, unafraid, challenging me with that glint in her eye. I can respect that. In a world where most people fawn or fear, a little defiance is almost refreshing.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with her yet. Part of me wonders if accepting the deal was the right call, if she’s actually any good at what she does. She’s clearly green, even if she does have some good ideas. Do I really want some amateur working around my house, making decisions that don’t make sense for the space?

But something tells me she’s not the type to mess around. She was dealt a terrible hand growing up, and was forced to have a serious grasp on life much earlier than needed because her father wasn’t going to teach her how to lead a good life. If she’s less than skilled, at least having a pretty, young face around here will be a refreshing change of pace. Everyone thinks mafia life is all about riches and women, but I had too many deals on the daily involving physical and mental stress to indulge in either of those.

I get up and head to the shower, feeling a little guilty as I get undressed and imagine her in the room with me, watching me with her fiery eyes. Having a pretty, young face around here could also be a terrible idea, a distraction, a temptation. I would never force her to do something she didn’t want but damn it if I haven’t already pictured her naked a hundred times since meeting her.

I shake my head as I step into the warm spray, trying to think of anything else. My thoughts drift to her incompetent father, my ire rising. Rex is done. Whether Ginny knows it or not, her father’s days of gambling, drinking, and wasting every chance he’s been given are over. If she doesn’t like that, if she has aproblem with it, well that’s just her issue to deal with. Once his debt is paid, I’ll do everything to ensure that he never darkens my door again.

I relax in the shower, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders, washing away the tension of the day. But even as I try to unwind, my mind drifts back once again to Ginny. There’s something about her, maybe the innocence in her eyes, or the seductive curve of her lip. She’s sexy without trying to be, genuine and good through and through. She must have had one hell of a mother to keep her from becoming anything like the scum her father is.

She’s out of her depth, though. That much is obvious. She doesn’t know what she’s signed up for, the risks that come with working for someone like me. And yet, I can’t help but admire her for diving in headfirst, for agreeing to stay here, to work from within my walls. I can’t tell if it’s ambition or loyalty to her father. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist as I head back into the bedroom. The lights of the city blink outside the window, casting a faint glow over the room. I watch the skyline for a moment, my mind drifting to the promise I made to my own father, the loyalty I still have for him even now that he’s been dead for years.

I promised him I would keep the peace. But promises can be dangerous. They can lead to complacency, to a weakness that others exploit. I want to honor my father’s memory, to keep the family out of needless conflict, but I can’t afford to let the Savinis walk all over me. They need to know that I’m not my father. That if they cross me, they’ll regret it.

As I lay my head against the cold pillow, thoughts of Ginny, my father, and the Savinis weaving together as my tired mind seeks the relief of unconsciousness.

7

Ginny

Ilie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind buzzing with a mixture of excitement, nerves, and anticipation that refuses to let me sleep. This is the last night I’ll get to sleep in my own bed for a while. If all goes well, maybe I can finally afford to move out on my own and get an apartment. It’s not exactly cool to be twenty-five and still living with my father.

Working for a man like Mateo Rossi isn’t exactly something I pictured when I went into interior design. I figured I’d be setting up small businesses, helping people brighten up their spaces, maybe even make a name for myself by landing a few bigger projects. But this is the big leagues, the kind of opportunity that could open doors. Even if it’s in a world I barely understand, working for someone I definitely don’t.

He’s stupidly good-looking, I know that much.

I groan, turning over in bed, the thought making my cheeks warm. I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, especially when I’m supposed to start working for him tomorrow. I need to keep this professional, to show him that I’m worth my salt, toearn more work on his properties.

I close my eyes, imagining myself working with him, showing him the designs I’ve dreamed up. I picture the look on his face, the way his mouth might tilt in that slow, approving smile he gave me earlier, the kind that makes his eyes warm just a fraction. He’ll be impressed, maybe even proud. And then maybe things will shift. Maybe his look of admiration will turn into something darker, more intense. A fantasy unfurls in my mind, as I imagine showing him one of my design renderings, of him being so impressed with me that he can’t help but praise me for it.

As my mind starts to relax, I envision myself in his office, just the two of us inside with his door closed. It’s unlocked, but that just adds to the excitement. My heart is pounding fast as he looks at me with that intense gaze, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. I swallow hard, the anticipation building inside of me until the tension in the air becomes like a magnet.

I don’t know who closes the distance first. Maybe we both move in at the same time, but his hands are on my hips and his lips are pressed against mine, his tongue tracing my bottom lip, a moan escaping from my mouth as I feel the harness of his erection pressing against me.

I don’t want to tell him I’m a virgin, don’t want him to think I’m some inexperienced kid. I want him to see me as a grown woman, to bend me over his desk and enter me from behind the way I’ve seen in my favorite pornos.

In my bed, my breath hitches as my hands roam over my body, slowly circling my most sensitive parts. I may be a virgin, but I know exactly how to turn myself on, where to touch and how much pressure to apply to get my panties soaking before myfinger even dips below the waistband.

But tonight, it’s the fantasy that’s getting me excited, the idea that a man so handsome, so dangerous, could be the one to take my innocence.

In my fantasy, I’m already soaked for him, my legs parting slightly as his hand moves down between us, playing at the edge of my skirt. His fingers are rough, yet gentle as he slides them up my thighs, slowly making their way to the growing heat between my legs.

---