Page 14 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“Are those his grandchildren?” the stranger asks, taking a step forward as if he is trying to get into my apartment.

I stand in front of him, blocking him from coming any closer. “You might work for Mr. Thompson and think you’re untouchable, but this is my house, and those kids are mine. You are not to come near them and invade their home. They don’t know you. I don’t know you. And they are not his grandchildren. He made sure of that. Don’t you dare think I won’t stop you if you take one more step.” It has been a while since I’ve used any self-defense that I’ve learned, but I’ll stop at nothing to protect my children.

He holds up his hand and takes a step back. “Apologies, Ms. Thompson. He’s requested to see you.”

I snort and step inside my apartment. “You can tell him to go to hell.”

“He’s dying. His last wish is to talk to you and meet his grandchildren.”

I should be sad. My heart should be crushed.

Instead, I feel anger. So much fucking anger. The audacity he has to want to see me, Ollie, and Olivia.

“He’ll talk to me, but he won’t meet his grandchildren. He made sure he ruined that opportunity. When do you need me there?”

“I’m to take you and the children to the airport now to fly on the private jet.”

“Well, I have business to do, so you’ll have to wait.”

He takes steps forward to come inside, and I block him.

“What are you doing?”

“You said I had to wait. I just thought—”

“—You thought wrong. I don’t allow strangers in my house, and I sure as hell don’t allow anyone who works for my dad in this house. You can wait in the car.” I slam the door in his face and lock the door, my heart beating so hard I can hear the pulse in my ears.

This can’t be happening. I hoped my dad would reach out to me for the first few years, but that bridge has burned.

I’m only going because if I don’t go voluntarily, I’ll be forced to go, and I’d rather see him on my terms.

And maybe I can tell him I’ll see him in hell after all.

***

The kids are asleep again by the time we land. It’s been a long day, and I’ve been quiet and crabby.

“You’re to stay—” the man who works for my father begins to say, and I hold up my hand to stop him.

“—I’m not staying in this house after tonight. I’m only here so the kids can rest. Where is he?” I ask, glancing at the watch on my wrist to see it’s nearing eight at night.

It feels like it’s been days, and I’ve only been home for ten minutes.

“I understand, Ms. Thompson.”

“Camilla. Please,” I correct him.

“Andrew,” he says, finally introducing himself to me.

I don’t say anything when we pull through the iron gate. I look out the window, running my fingers through Ollie’s and Olivia’s hair with each hand. Each of their heads are on my lap.

Everything looks the same. The yard is maintained. The flowers are perfect. The grass is clipped. The mansion looks just as big and scary as it did before. The red brick, black door with matching shutters, and shining large windows give the house an eerie appearance.

Nothing about it feels like a home, but more like a prison.

---