Page 35 of Secret Mafia Daddy

“You don’t worry enough,” she mutters.

“Don’t be difficult on our date night,” I warn, but there’s no real bite to it. I’m in a good mood, being back home and having my ready-made family, and I’m ready to give it a try.

We ride mostly in silence to the restaurant. The silence is awkward and I want to fill it, but what can I say?

Thank you for coming to dinner and giving me my baby doesn’t exactly seem like the best conversation starter.

As we arrive at the restaurant, I help her out of the car after opening her door. She takes hold of my arm.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers.

I look down at her with a frown. “What do you mean, you can’t do this?”

She licks her lips. “I’m not wearing the right dress.”

Angelo scoffs. “You look great.”

“Maybe we should do this another night.”

“No,” I say.

“No?” she asks, looking up at me with confused gray eyes.

“We’re doing this. Now let’s just enjoy our dinner before we go back to our little girl.”

We go inside and the hostess takes us to our table in the back. A romantic corner that is private enough that we can talk without being overheard.

After being served our drinks and as we wait for our food to come, the ring on her finger calls my attention. That won’t do.

“We have to get my mother’s ring.”

She blinks. “Your mother’s ring? Why?”

“Because you should wear it.”

“You really want to give me your mother’s ring?” she asks stunned.

“Don’t go thinking I’m soft on you, kitten,” I sneer. “I just want it to look real, okay?”

That isn’t exactly true. There’s something about the cheap bauble on her finger that doesn’t sit right with me. This is probably the only time I’m ever going to do this, and she is the mother of my daughter, so she deserves better.

And my mother’s ring is beautiful. It’s a single carat, too, delicate and inlaid with jades, my mother’s favorite stone. It’d look so good with Catarina’s silver-colored eyes.

“So....how do we get the ring?” she asks.

My shoulders slump. “I have to see my father,” I say, like I’m telling her I’m going to be hung.

“And you don’t get along, I take it,” she muses.

“No, we do not,” I agree tightly.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t want to go into it,” I say through gritted teeth.

“So, you’re introducing me to your family? Your real family?”

“Though I met yours, I don’t really feel like meeting my father is necessary. I’m just going to grab the ring and be done with it,” I say in defense as I shift my weight on the chair.

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