Page 35 of Savage Vow (Mafia Marriages 3)

I honestly don’t know. He could have killed me and he didn’t yesterday, but this is the first time I’ve seen his face red and been on the receiving end of his shouts.

“Who’s child is it?” Aurielo asks. His eyes bore into mine.

Aurielo’s stare is unnerving.

I want to climb out of the car and run, but I can’t get away.

We’re traveling down the parking garage, but more importantly, the doors are child-locked. I should have flipped the switch on the door and took off the first chance that I got.

“Don’t lie to me.” He shifts his body, his knees brushing against mine. “Is it my son?”

“No.”

It’s an easy lie.

Ashton isn’t his.

Biologically, he may be the father, but Ashton will never be his son.

He exhales through his nose quite loudly. “Doesn’t matter. We’re married. Which makes him mine. Just like you belong to me.” His eyes flinch and tighten.

I scoff at his notion of marriage. “I’m not a piece of property that you can own.”

“No? Your son will come and live with us. A mother shouldn’t be separated from her child. Believe it or not, I’m not a monster.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“I’d prefer if he stayed with his aunt,” I say, my jaw firm. It takes every ounce of courage to send Ashton away, but it’s for his safety. I’m only thinking about what is best for my son.

Ashton doesn’t need to grow up in a world of criminals and murderers. He deserves a normal childhood.

“Well, that’s too bad. We’re heading over to your apartment right now to gather the boy and his belongings,” Aurielo says.

“What?” I glance out the window as I realize we’re heading south, in the opposite direction of Rinaldi’s mansion and picture-perfect home. “No, you can’t do that.”

“I agree. Traveling into the southside at night is foolish. I can’t believe you live here with a child.”

Raising a kid isn’t cheap or easy, not that Aurielo needs to know about my struggles. I’m not looking for a sugar daddy or a handout. I’ve done fine on my own, mostly. My sister has been there to help with childcare and shuttling him to and from school recently.

“Not all of us can live in mansions with butlers and sit on a yacht all day soaking up the sun.”

“Alessandro doesn’t have a butler,” Aurielo says. “And quite frankly, I’m insulted you think that our wealth isn’t anything but hard-earned.”

Hard-earned? He has to be kidding! “Right, selling drugs to school-age kids and weapons to thugs.”

“We don’t sell to kids. We have morals,” Aurielo says. He folds his arms across his chest, apparently taking offense to my comment.

But he doesn’t deny the weapons accusation. How could he? I saw the duffel bag filled with guns.

“Morals?” I laugh. He’s the least moral person that I know. It’s not like I hang out with drug dealers and mafia scum regularly.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Aurielo says. He’s a little too calm and collected.

“You were ordered to execute me. Murdering someone is what, ethically acceptable to you?” I stare him down and don’t so much as flinch when I shoot him question after question. “Why? Because I witnessed a crime?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Aurielo says and smirks. “We don’t sell guns or drugs to school-age children. You act like I’m the devil.”

“Aren’t you?” Doesn’t he see why I don’t want him around my son?

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