Page 16 of Surprise Baby for the Don

I slip out of the car and head in the direction I saw Bats disappear, easily finding a door markedEmployees Only. Ignoring the sign, I open the door and find myself in a kitchen, the staff ignoring me as if they’re used to this kind of intrusion. I carefully move through it until I hear Mateo’s voice on the other side of a door that looks like an office.

The scene that greets me when I open the door turns my stomach. Red and Bats are on either side of Mateo, who stands over a man tied to a chair, his fist connecting with the guy’s face in a brutal, unforgiving punch. The sound of it echoes in the room, raw and visceral. I freeze, my heart pounding, my mind struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing. My fight or flight kicks in, flight being the obvious answer. I’m ready to book it and move across the country but my brain keeps me in check, planting me to the ground for the time being.

Mateo turns to Bats, wiping his hand clean with a cloth, a move that seems very practiced, perhaps even unconscious.

“Get the information out of him,” he says, his voice calm, steady, as though he’s asking for the time.

Then he looks up and notices me.

Our eyes lock, and I see the shock flicker across his face, quickly replaced by something darker and unreadable. I don’t wait to see what he’ll do next. Every instinct I have screams at me to run, to get out of there before he decides I’ve seen too much.

I turn and bolt, my heels echoing on the cold tile floor as I make a desperate dash through the kitchen for the exit. But Mateo is faster. I hear him behind me, his footsteps closing the distance between us, his voice calm but laced with an edge I’ve never heard before.

“Ginny,” he calls, his tone firm, commanding. “Stop.”

But I don’t. I can’t. The image of him standing over that man, fist raised, the look of unflinching power on his face is burned into my mind, and all I can think about is putting as much distance as I can between us. I push through the door and out into the alley.

I round a corner, nearly losing my balance in these heels, but I keep going, fueled by sheer adrenaline. I hear him getting closer, his footsteps quick and sure, and panic floods my veins.

“Ginny!” His voice is sharper this time, and somehow, the authority in it is enough to make me stumble to a halt.

10

Mateo

Iovertake her in the alley, watching as she realizes she can’t escape. Her wide eyes dart from side to side, her hands curled into fists as if she’s going to fight her way out of this. She very much looks like prey being cornered by a predator, but that isn’t at all how I want her to feel. I need to assure her that she’s safe with me.

“Ginny,” I repeat, my voice low, trying to get her to relax. But it’s clear from the look on her face that she wants nothing to do with me right now. She’s not just tense, she’s frightened, and my heart sinks at the realization.

“What was that?” she snaps, her voice high, her gaze sharp as she glares at me.

I let out a sigh, not even sure where to start. She likely doesn’t really want the truth, she just wants me to say something to comfort her, to make her think that she misunderstood what she saw. But I can’t do that for her.

“Listen to me, Ginny,” I answer lowly. “Forget about what you saw. Let’s just go back into the restaurant and have a meal like civilized people. You can tell me all your ideas about my properties and we’ll put this nasty incident behind us. Sound good?”

She doesn’t respond, just stares up at me with a fire in her eyes that, I’ll admit, makes this arrangement all the more interesting. But even as she meets my gaze, I see the slightest tremor in her stance. It’s that defiance mixed with a hint of vulnerability that nearly undoes me.

“Does that sound good?” I repeat, making it clear that it’s not really a question.

After a tense silence, she finally lets out a small huff, her shoulders relaxing just enough to let me know she’s given in.

“Yes,” she says, her voice clipped, but I can tell she’s still curious, that she has questions she’s dying to ask. Perhaps I’ll even answer some of them if she can stay calm and reasonable.

She follows me back through the alleyway, and we enter the restaurant silently. She doesn’t look at me, and I don’t push her. The maître d’ lights up as we walk in, as if he’s been anxiously awaiting us. He guides us back to my usual table, and orders one of the staff to bring out my favorite wine.

Ginny refuses the wine and asks for water, which is brought with much fanfare. By the look on her face, I can tell she isn’t used to being fussed over like this.

Once our drinks are settled, I tell the waiter I’d like my usual—flank steak with pommes frites. I look at her curiously, wondering if she’ll let me order for her, but she glares at me.

“Just a house salad,” she tells the waiter, refusing to meet my gaze.

“You could have anything on the menu,” I tell her. “Are you sure you just want a salad?”

“Yes,” she murmurs, looking down at her place setting.

The wait for our food is filled with a thick, stony silence. She doesn’t even look at me for several minutes, instead fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth.

When our food finally arrives, she doesn’t look up from her plate, just quietly stabs at her food. She’s still angry, still stewing, but I hope she doesn’t keep silent for too long. I was expecting a nice lunch to get to know her better. This whole situation has obviously not turned out how I hoped. Just as I’m taking my first bite, she slams her fork down, making the silverware rattle slightly on the plate.

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