Page 3 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
I stare at the monstrosity. I care for Roman and his eight-year-old daughter Angelica. It’s nice that she calls me “Uncle” even though I don’t do anything to deserve it.
But this… I don’t do saccharin family shit.
"Tell her thanks," I mutter, pushing it aside.
Roman drops into the chair across from me, stretching his legs out. "Remember when we used to enjoy Christmas? The parties, the women in those little red dresses?—"
"I have work to do." I shuffle papers that don't need shuffling.
"When exactly did you turn into such a Scrooge?" He picks up a paperweight, tosses it between his hands.
“Probably the night my father beat the shit out of me for crying when I learned there was no such thing as Santa.”
His smirk drops and I see pity in his eyes. I hate pity.
“Your father was a piece of shit.”
“I know it. Yours wasn’t much better, him and your mom trying to take Angelica from you after Emilia died.”
He shrugs. “That was fucked up but not the same as you. I’m sorry.”
I wave away his apology. “It’s fine. How are Isabella and the baby?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.
His smile widens. “Perfect. Little Leo is 10 weeks old today.”
I frown. “How many weeks is Angelica?”
He snorts. “We stop counting by weeks when they have a few months under their belt. And then we switch to years.”
I think about that. “I wonder why we don’t switch to decades. Like how old is Roman? He’s four and half decades.”
“That would make you nearly five decades.” He sets my paperweight down. “But seriously, you need to get into the holiday mood. Leave your father’s shit behind and join in the fun with us. This year, Antonio is hosting the Christmas party. You going?”
My jaw clenches, but this time it has nothing to do with holiday spirit.
It has to do with seeing Gabriella, Antonio’s daughter. "I always go."
"Yeah, but last year you spent the entire night looking like you wanted to murder the champagne fountain. Angelica asked if you had a stomach ache."
I grunt, remembering the night vividly.
Gabriella in that emerald dress, laughing with some fucker her father had introduced her to.
The way she'd coyly catch me watching her.
“Are we ready for the meeting today?” I ask, once again moving to another subject.
The other Dons of La Corona are meeting here today.
The council of the four families was founded by the Calabresi, Monti, Vitale, and Ferraza families two generations ago.
The goal was to maintain peace and prosperity through cooperation rather than competition, and so far, it’s worked, although my father nearly destroyed it.
It’s probably why the other families tried to remove me when I became Don.
Thanks to Antonio, I stayed and I believe I’ve been a productive member.
“Yep.” Roman’s voice turns serious. “By the way, Antonio called me this morning. He forgot we had the sit-down with the Russians last week. Started talking about it like it hadn't happened yet."
