Page 31 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

“Do you have everything you need?”

I grin, taking another left behind the building and passing the dumpsters and discarded boxes. “I have the security reader. You act like I’ve never done this before. I feel offended, I think.” I step over a stagnant puddle. “I don’t know whether I need to be offended.” I stand at the back door of the bookshop and am already unimpressed with Taylor. “Got to go. Update me later on the situation.”

He’s messy. The back of the store should look just as good as the front.

“You’re not off to a good start, Taylor.” Something squeaks from beside me, and I see a rat. It’s nibbling on a piece of food while it stares at me. “You spend a lot of time here, and I bet if you could tell me, you’d say I was right to question this man.” The rat squeaks again and scurries away.

The steps are dirty with age and mold. The bottoms of my shoes stick to the cement. Even the door is rusted, and the handle is worn.

To the left, there’s at least a brand-new security system, though nothing that can keep me out of his store. I hook up the device to the system, then let it run. The lights flash on the pads, and the numbers run across the screen.

While I wait, I open my phone and pull up the security app. Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but while Camilla was at work, I installed a few cameras around her apartment. I want to make sure she and the kids are safe.

I don’t know what it is about those kids, but I feel an immense pull to them, like they are meant to be mine, and I’m meant to protect them. Perhaps, it has everything to do with my feelings for Camilla. If I want her, it means I get those kids, and that doesn’t bother me.

Her front door is clear, kitchen, living room, and then I see movement.

I hold my breath and pinch the screen to zoom in.

Someone has entered her room.

I’m about to abort the mission to run across the street when I notice not one but two people crawling into bed with Camilla.

Her kids.

She holds out her arms to welcome them, and one child flanks each side of her. I exit the app, stuffing my phone in my pocket, and wonder what I could have done differently to deserve to be in Camilla’s home.

I bet it’s warm and cozy, unlike mine, where it’s minimal and cold. I’m hardly ever there. I’m always at the club. It’s where I run most of the business.

The device in my hand beeps, reminding me of the task at hand, and I unplug it, and the door automatically unlocks.

“High grade for someone like you, Taylor. What are you hiding in here?” I won’t let whatever he is up to touch Camilla.

When I enter the bookstore, I pull out the small flashlight in my pocket and click it on. Since I’m in the back, I look left, noticing nothing special but a few boxes. I lift a lid on one and see new books, and I’m already disappointed.

Shining the light in front of me, shelves of books come to view.

I pass romance, mystery, and thriller. I scour every aisle, checking every binding of every book to see if there’s anything out of place.

The floor creaks beneath my feet, and the air conditioning kicks on, blowing on the back of my neck.

I finally step behind the desk and look through every drawer. Notepads, bookmarks, stickers, paper clips.

No one is this clean. Someone is always hiding something questionable. The light shines under the cash register as I turn to check the other drawers, when something reflects. Placing the end of the flashlight in my mouth, I bend down to see a small binder shoved underneath.

“Bingo,” I whisper, lifting the register to drag it out.

It’s small. The size of an agenda with small silver rings, and when I open it, my brows raise.

Everything is in code with a number next to it.

Thousands of dollars.

“What are you up to?” I mumble and take pictures of a few pages.

When I’m satisfied, I tuck it under the register and notice something hidden in the back of one of the shelves. It’s an interesting setup he has here. The front desk is round, with a space for him to get through. In the circular desk are shelves and cabinets, unremarkable things.

But my hand wraps around something solid and cool to the touch.

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