Page 44 of Secret Mafia Daddy

But Angelo isn’t like that. He’s a dad, through and through, and it makes me curious.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you have siblings?” I ask.

Angelo snorts. “No, unfortunately I’m the apple of my Papa’s eye.”

The way he says it reminds me of when he’d said he’d have to get the ring from him.

“What happened?” I ask as Chelsea runs upstairs to her room, presumably to dress up in fairy princess attire since she’s been babbling about it all morning.

“With what? My parents didn’t want more kids, I guess,” he mumbles around a piece of chunky peanut butter toast.

“I mean with your father,” I say patiently, knowing that Angelo doesn’t want to talk about it.

He sighs. “He left. That’s all there is to it.”

“And now? Does he want to be part of your life?”

“Has for years, since I was a teenager. He left us for some bimbo and then that ran its course and he wanted us back like nothing had happened,” Angelo says bitterly. “I take his money when I need it, but I try not to need it. I don’t talk to him.”

“But you’ll have to, for the ring?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

He frowns. “Yes, what about it?”

“Why is the ring so important to you?” I ask, picking at my eggs. I take a bite and they’re surprisingly fluffy. “I mean, this is all...temporary.”

“Sure, but no one’s ever going to believe I married someone without my mother’s engagement ring,” he says, like that should be obvious. “Least of all my mother.”

“She didn’t take the ring back?”

“Didn’t want anything to do with him,” he says, raising his chin like Chelsea does, like he’s proud. “Said she wouldn’t want anything that he gave her.”

“But you want it,” I say again, confused.

Angelo hums, shoveling down his bacon and eggs. He pauses and swallows before answering, his face a little pensive.

“I want you to have it,” he says simply, like the conversation is over, and I just stare at him.

I clear my throat after eating what I want out of my plate.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re my wife now. You can ask me anything. Know all my secrets,” he says in a teasing tone, but I just keep looking at him, unamused.

“Why do you have so many women’s clothes in your closet?”

Angelo looks at me curiously for a moment, as if he’s trying to decide my mood, and I try my best to keep my expression blank.

A slow smile spreads across his face. “What are you, jealous?”

“Oh, I am not,” I insist with a scoff, my cheeks reddening. “I just want to know. It’s weird.”

He shrugs. “I just picked up stuff here and there, you know? For girls. They always come over here and don’t have anything to wear home or out to breakfast, so instead of them stealing all my clothes, I bought some.”

I wrinkle my nose. “So, some of them are used clothes?”

He barks out a laugh. “No, whoever wore them got to take them home.”

“Kind of like a bonus, after sex?” I ask incredulously.

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