Page 17 of Surprise Baby for the Don

“I think you owe me an explanation,” she demands, her gaze hard. “Who was that man? Why were you hurting him? And don’t just brush it off with some vague excuse. I saw what you did, Mateo.”

I can’t fight the smile that gathers at the corner of my lips. I admire her boldness, though I’d punish anyone else for being so outspoken. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that much is clear. I’m starting to understand how she’s put up with Rex all these years. She takes no prisoners.

“That man,” I start slowly, keeping my tone as calm as possible, “was caught spying on us, stealing company secrets. We were simply extracting information in return.”

She narrows her eyes, and I can tell she’s weighing each word, assessing the truth behind what I’m telling her.

“Extracting information,” she repeats, her tone mocking. “That’s a nice way of putting it. And what happens to him now? Are you going to”—she pauses, glancing around the restaurant, dropping her voice—“kill him?”

I can’t help but laugh at the idea, my voice carrying through the small dining room.

“Kill him?” I sputter. “No. He’s not valuable enough for that. We’ll send him back with a message instead. Let him tell his boss exactly what happens when they try to mess with us.”

Her expression softens a bit and she deflates, as if the news comes as a relief. But I see the tension in her shoulders, the fear behind her eyes, and it’s a stark reminder that this isn’t her world. Maybe it was a bad idea to agree to using her services. No matter what a piece of scum her father is, she’s too innocent for this business.

She takes a deep breath, her chest rising subtly, and I can’t help but notice how nice her cleavage looks in this new dress. It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to really look at her since her abrupt arrival. She’s so ridiculously beautiful it takes my breath away. I suddenly couldn’t care less about this conversation, my mind drifting to other activities that might be a better use of our time.

I take a sip of my wine, trying to quiet my thoughts. She wants answers to her questions, she wants to know who I really am. Now’s not the time to be lusting after her like a horny teenager. I need to focus, to keep my mind sharp enough to answer carefully.

“What is it you do, exactly, Mateo?” she asks suspiciously, stabbing another piece of lettuce.

“I’m in real estate,” I answer casually, observing her reaction.

She nearly rolls her eyes. “Real estate?” she echoes, disbelief clear in her tone. “Is that why you have so many buildings? All these properties you keep mentioning?”

I nod, offering her a faint smile. “Precisely. I have properties all over the city, and each one is an investment. They serve a purpose, and they bring in revenue. Some require a bit more management than others.”

She looks at me with a guarded expression, clearly not fully buying my answer. Her fingers trace the edge of her water glass as she considers her next question, but I can see the reluctance there. She’s curious, but she doesn’t seem to trust herself. Or perhaps she doesn’t trust me. After a moment, she straightens, meeting my gaze with unbridled determination.

“I want to make one thing abundantly clear,” she says, her tone carefully neutral. “I didn’t sign up to work for the Mob, Mateo. I don’t care what my father’s promised you. I’m good at what I do, and I’ll make sure you’re happy with my work, but I refuse to be caught up in whatever this is.” She gestures vaguely between me and the door to the kitchen.

I can’t hold back the chuckle that bubbles up in my chest. “You’re not working for the Mob, Ginny,” I assure her, amused. “You’re working for me. Personally. Your name isn’t on any payroll in my organization, and there’s no paper trail tying you to anyone or anything except me.” I pause, letting the weight of that sink in. “You’re safe.”

She studies me for a long moment, her face a mix of skepticism and resignation. She and I both know that she’s been promised in a deal she can’t break. Not without significant injury to her father. She saw what I did to the man in the office.

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed, as if trying to shield herself from me.

“So, let’s say I go along with all of this,” she begins, her tone guarded. “Let’s say I finish this project for you. What happens then?”

“Of course, I won’t force you into anything you don’t want to do, but you and I both know that you are obligated to work for me until your father pays off his debt.”

She looks down again and reaches for her water glass, taking a long sip.

“Once you’re finished with my project, you’re free to do as you wish,” I promise her. “If you want to move on, find other clients, pretend this never happened, I’ll happily send you off with a glowing recommendation. You could also stay on with me, continue working on other properties. That choice is yours.”

A flicker of surprise crosses her face, but it’s gone just as quickly. She was expecting a different answer, one that implied I’d keep her around, that she wouldn’t be able to leave. Her shoulders relax just a little, and she looks up at me finally.

“And what if I decide I want nothing to do with you? With any of this?” she asks, her gaze sharp, her voice low.

I meet her eyes steadily, letting her see the truth in my own.

“Your father has told me he’ll have my money in a week,” I tell her honestly, and she snorts her derision. She knows as well as Ido how unlikely that is. “After that, you’re free to go. But it would benefit both of us if you take advantage of this opportunity.”

She holds my gaze and I can almost see the wheels turning in her brain. I have no intention of forcing her into anything she doesn’t want. I mean what I say, if she wants out, she can go. But a large part of me hopes she’ll stay.

Ginny finally looks away, and the silence that follows feels heavy, weighted by unspoken thoughts. She picks at her salad, her expression unreadable, as though she’s working through everything in her mind, sifting through the pieces and trying to make sense of them.

After a moment, I break the silence, my tone casual as I change the subject. “Now, how about dessert?” I offer, shooting her a reassuring smile.

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