Page 2 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

“You look beautiful,” my father says as he stands from his chair. Like always, he is in a pristine suit. He kisses my cheek and snaps his fingers. “Marco. You stay with them at all times.”

“Dad, can’t I have this one night without a guard?” I ask so my friends can’t hear me. “As a birthday present? Please?”

He sighs, staring at me as if he is actually thinking about it. “He takes you to where you go and waits for you outside the building. He won’t go in. That’s my compromise.”

“Really?” I squeal way too loud because I never thought he would go for it. “Really?”

“Yes, really. But if you’re in trouble, you send him your code word.”

“I swear. I promise. Yes.” I bounce from the excitement.

“And what’s the word?”

He makes me say it every time I leave the house.

“Pizza.” Because it’s my favorite thing in the entire world.

He nods, leaning forward again to kiss me on the forehead. “I want updates. I want to know you’re safe. You have your credit card on you?”

“I do.”

“Good. Always get—”

“V.I.P. I know, Dad. I’m going to go. Thank you for letting me have a night without Marco. No offense, Marco.”

“None taken, Ms. Thompson. I understand the need for independence,” he says, giving me a small head bow.

“Okay. Go. Be safe,” my dad shouts from behind me. “And don’t—”

“Talk to strangers! Yeah, I got it, Dad.” I wave bye to him and smile, loving how protective he is of me, but he acts like I don’t have to talk to strangers every day.

Cora and Jasmine flank me, looping their arms through mine as we head down the marble steps of the estate.

“Ladies, where are you wanting to go tonight?” Marco opens the back door to the limo.

“Club Forty-Seven,” I say, and Marco grits his teeth together, his jaw flexing.

He closes the door before any of us can get in. “Anywhere but there. Your dad would never approve.”

“Marco. It’s my birthday. Please. It’s the most prestigious club in the city.”

“No,” he clips, leaving no room for argument.

“Fine.” I know when to cut my losses, but what he won’t know won’t hurt him. “How about Renegades?” Which is right down the street from Club Forty-Seven. I already have a plan percolating in my mind.

He nods and plasters a smile on his face, the kind that says he’s won this round. “Yes, that will be suitable.” He opens the door again, spreading his arm to allow us inside the car. “After you, Birthday Girl.”

“Thank you.” I duck my head as I climb inside, sliding against the leather seats while tugging down the dress as it hikes up my thigh.

Jasmine and Cora climb in next, and Jasmine heads straight to the minibar. She looks gorgeous in her plum-colored dress that hugs her curves. Her hair is up in a delicate twist with a few strands framing her face. She is effortlessly beautiful. The only makeup she has on is mascara. She has a natural, sultry look I’ve always been envious of.

The limo begins to move, and the partition is up, effectively blocking Marco’s eavesdropping. Jasmine passes shot glasses and twists the cap off to the bottle of tequila.

“To the best damn birthday night ever. Even if we can’t experience Club Forty-Seven. Renegades is still amazing.” She pours my shot glass to the brim, and I shoot it back, the burn in my throat not pleasant at all.

How do people do this all the time?

“I have a plan,” I whisper, and the girls lean in, mischievous smirks on their faces.

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