Page 24 of Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss

We haven’t been able to look away from one another. I can’t get over how beautiful she looks. Even through the rain, I can see she’s been crying. Her eyes are red, and she isn’t wearing makeup.

Why bother when the tears don’t stop?

I hate that she’s hurting, and I wish I could take her in my arms and tell her everything will be okay, but that would be a lie. Everything in life isn’t okay; sometimes, it’s cruel and tough, testing you to the absolute limits.

That’s why it’s so important for her to have someone like me. I’d make sure the cruel wouldn’t touch her and the tough wouldn’t test her. I’d be there to fight all her battles, kill all the threats, and protect her at all costs, so she knows what it’s like to live in bliss.

Thunder rolls above us, and the rain comes down with more force. Everyone has their umbrella, standing while the minister says his speech, but no one can hear him. The rain drowns him out.

My eyes stay on Camilla, and I wonder what she’s thinking. Is she happy to see me? Are the memories of our night playing in the forefront of her mind? Is she thinking about how I claimed her virginity just as they lowered her father into the ground?

It’s a sick and twisted thought. There’s a time and place for everything, but sometimes we can’t help our mind and how it wanders. She isn’t to be blamed for that.

She breaks the connection, staring at the ground while holding her children's hands. Twins, if I had to guess. They are very well-behaved. I’m impressed.

People begin to leave, and a line gathers by Camilla. One by one, they say their condolences.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“He was such a wonderful man.”

“So sorry to hear of his passing.”

They all lie to her.

I knew the type of man he was; being good wasn’t in his job description. He was a murderer who only cared about securing his wealth and protecting his territory.

Much like me.

Until her.

I’m the last person in line, and when I take her hand in mine, that familiar gasp she makes races down my spine.

“Camilla Thompson,” I emphasize her last name because it would have been easy to find her if I had known it.

“Luca,” she exhales my name with a surprised breath.

Her eyes slide to her daughter, her son, then back to me.

“What are you doing here?” her voice rasps.

The rain pelts against the material of the umbrella.

“Your father was my rival. I came to pay my respects to a man who honored his word.”

“What’s your last name?” Camilla quivers, her mind working as she slides the pieces together.

“Bianco.” I kiss the top of her hand like I did the night we met, and she yanks it away from me.

“Cora. Will you please take the kids to the car?”

“Absolutely.” Cora stands. “Luca, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Cora. I’m sorry about the circumstances,” I say.

Cora walks away with the children, and Camilla stands, holding onto the umbrella's handle so tight her knuckles turn white.

“You have adorable children. Twins? Is their father around?” I need to know. There will be no competition here. Camilla was mine first, and she will be my last.

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