Page 65 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
"Don Calabresi has been in his office since five this morning. He asked for coffee but declined breakfast."
I can’t help but wonder if avoiding breakfast is designed to avoid me.
Too bad, if that’s the case. "Could you prepare a tray? I'll bring breakfast to him."
Maria looks surprised but quickly composes herself. "Of course, Miss."
Minutes later, I'm balancing a tray loaded with coffee, frittata, and pastries outside Marco's office.
I could knock, but where's the fun in that?
Instead, I push the door open with my hip.
"Breakfast delivery," I announce, striding in.
I act like I own the place, partly because I know it annoys him, but also, I think deep down, he’s amused by how I charge through life.
Marco looks up from his desk, momentarily startled.
His hair is slightly disheveled, as if he's been running his hands through it.
"I didn't ask for breakfast," he says, voice gruff.
I set the tray down on his desk, making space among the papers.
"No, but you need it. And I refuse to eat alone in that cavernous dining room. Really, Marco, for a man who’s hell-bent on being alone, you have way too much space."
His eyes narrow slightly, assessing. I meet his gaze without flinching.
“I wouldn’t mind a pastry.”
I startle and turn to where Roman is sitting on the couch, his phone in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Ginetti, I didn’t see you there.”
"It’s Roman, and good morning," Roman says, his tone neutral but eyes watchful, bordering on amused as he takes in Marco.
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
Of course Marco would have business meetings first thing.
I should have knocked.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'll leave you to?—"
"Stay." Marco gestures to the empty chair in front of Roman. "We were discussing matters that concern your father's interests as well."
I hesitate, surprised by the invitation.
As involved as I am in my father’s business, it’s not usual for a woman to be included.
It’s one thing when it’s just me and Marco and he’s relaying information.
It’s another to be a part of the meeting with Marco’s second in command.
I settle into the chair, trying not to show how much this inclusion means to me.
Marco pushes a folder across the desk.
"We were reviewing potential threats to La Corona," he explains, his voice businesslike. "Particularly, those who might be targeting your father's operations."
