Page 134 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
"Frank—"
"I've been loyal to Antonio for thirty years. Watching his back, following his orders, even when I disagreed. And you, his precious daughter, you betray him for what? For Marco's cock?"
"You're the one who's been attacking my father's business!" The accusation escapes before I can think better of it.
Frank's face contorts with rage.
He raises his hand, and I flinch, bracing for the blow. It never comes.
"That's a lie," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. "I've dedicated my life to your father. Everything I've done has been to protect what's his."
“I’m his and you’re threatening me.” But then his words filter in.
If he’s protecting my father, who is attacking our business?
“You’re working with Calabresi, you ungrateful bitch.”
My thoughts spin wildly.
If not Frank and not Marco, who is orchestrating these attacks?
Who benefits from weakening both the Monti and Calabresi families?
Frank sucks in a breath. "Such betrayal needs to be punished.” He lifts his gun toward me. "Antonio will understand. Eventually."
The barrel points directly at my stomach, at my unborn child, and terror rips through me.
My breath stalls. Time stands still.
I wait to die.
25
MARCO
I nod at whatever Santino is saying about quarterly projections for the casino, but the words wash over me like white noise.
All I can think about is Gabriella walking out my door three days ago, suitcase in hand, carrying my child inside her.
My child.
"Don Calabresi?" Santino's voice breaks through. "Your thoughts on expanding the high-roller area?"
"Proceed with the plans." I wave my hand dismissively. "Send me the numbers later."
The managers exchange glances.
I'm not myself, haven't been since she left. Sleep eludes me. Food is tasteless.
Even my scotch, the expensive kind that usually soothes everything, sits untouched.
What kind of man lets the mother of his child walk away? A coward. That's what kind.
She didn't trap me.
She gave me an out.
She’s going to Italy, to have a life where I won’t have to change a single thing about my miserable existence.
