Page 23 of Secret Mafia Daddy

Catarina yells through the door, “I can hear you!”

Chelsea giggles and pulls at my hand. “Pick me up, Papa.”

What else am I supposed to do? Say no? So, I pick her up, hefting her on my hip.

“Are we going on a ‘venture today?” she asks in her little voice, and I grin at her.

“Every day is an adventure with me, sweetheart,” I tell her, and plant a sloppy kiss on the side of her face.

She laughs and wipes it away, but then she lies her head on my shoulder.

I know she must be exhausted and her sleep schedule has been off lately, and I plan to give her more of a normal life as soon as we get this marriage over and dusted.

Catarina’s a little feisty at times, but overall, she seems to play it safe, and she might not trust me, but she doesn’t seem to hate me or want to hurt me. At least for now.

I call Dante out on the balcony, holding Chelsea so she can look down over the city.

“Angelo?” he answers, clearly surprised to hear from me before ten in the morning. I usually sleep until noon, so I understand.

“Dante,” I answer brightly. “Look, I need a favor.”

Dante pauses. “What about the job?”

“Oh, that’s done,” I say easily, having nearly forgotten about the man I killed in a New York City alley. “Finished.”

“Oh,” he answers. “Then I guess I owe you a favor.”

And a hundred grand, I think, but don’t say. I’ll certainly need that money in order to start my new life, so I’m not going to piss Dante off.

“I was wondering if Mia would like to babysit my daughter, just for a couple of hours.”

Dante’s silent for a long time.

“Hello?”

“Your daughter? What the fuck, Angelo?”

I laugh. “It’s been a weird couple of weeks, Dante. I’ll explain everything, but can she?”

Dante holds his hand over the phone, speaking quickly to his wife, and I don’t hear much of it but it doesn’t seem like an argument.

“Sure,” he says. “When?”

“Right now, preferably,” I say, and Dante chuckles.

“All right, Angelo. You can come pick up your fee, and we’ll hang out with your...daughter.” He says it slowly as if it still doesn’t make any sense to him.

I hang up, looking at Chelsea.

“You ready to meet one of Papa’s friends?” I ask. “They have a baby you can play with.”

Her eyes widen and she grins. “I love babies,” she says.

“Of course, you do,” I croon, and take her back into the room.

Catarina is standing there, wearing an off-white sundress that hugs her curves and a pair of low heels. She looks gorgeous with her dirty-blonde hair tied up, ringlets cascading down her shoulders, and I clear my throat, trying not to stare.

I don’t need her to know how attractive I find her.

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