Page 51 of Secret Mafia Daddy

I can kind of understand why she wants out of the life, anyway.

When I’m preparing breakfast in the kitchen, there is a thud noise and Chelsea starts crying. I run to her to see what happened and she is sitting down at the bottom of the stairs, her knees skinned pretty badly. When she sees me coming, she limps up to me crying with her fairy wings all sideways.

“Baby,” I croon, and she sniffles, looking down at her knees and starting to sob.

“I bleed, Papa,” she says shakily, like she’s absolutely about to lose it, and when I see the blood dripping down her knees my heart drops to my toes.

I pick her up, ushering her to the bathroom and cleaning up her knees and washing the tears off her face.

My heart is pounding until she calms down and straightens her fairy wings. And those are just skinned knees.

I can’t imagine anything happening to Chelsea, her having to go through any of the things I went through as a child with my father as capo.

Even though I’m not capo and have no desire to be one, I’m still in danger a lot of the time. Understanding Catarina better makes me like her more. But not like that.

I’m attracted to her, and she’s a good mother. That’s as far as it goes.

My good mood dissipates even further as I drink my coffee because I know that I have to see Andrea Bianchi, my father, today. In my opinion, Mama should have kept the damn ring, but I can understand her reasons for giving it back.

I take a deep breath and decide not to call ahead, just leaving the penthouse after scribbling a note to Catarina. I take Dante’s private jet there, and the trip goes by easily despite my nerves.

When I pull up at his security gate, they wave me right in, recognizing my face.

Unfortunately, I’m the spitting image of my absent father.

I see him every time I look in the mirror.

I can’t help but notice that he’s getting old when he meets me in the foyer. He sticks out his hand for me to shake and I ignore it, looking in his face.

“I need Mama’s wedding ring,” I say flatly.

He gasps. “You’re getting married?” he asks. "To whom?”

“You wouldn’t know her,” I say, frustrated. “Just give me the ring.”

My father frowns, and then there’s a sly smirk at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll give it to you if you invite me to the wedding.”

My eyes shoot to his. “You don’t want to play this game with me, old man.”

He shrugs. “I’m too old to play too many games. I’ll sit in the back. I just want to watch my son get married.”

“Hell, no.”

“Come on. I know I’m not your favorite person, but you are still my son. You already cut me out of your life so much, just give me this one thing.”

I really don’t want him there, but this back and forth is only succeeding in taking me away from my daughter for longer. I want to be back in Chicago with Chelsea, not here, but I also don’t want this man anywhere near my family. Fuck. What should I do?

I think about it for a long moment. I guess it would look better if both my parents could show up to the wedding. Alonzo knows of Andrea, so they could chat or whatever. But fuck if I want this man there.

“I don’t know,” I muse.

“Come on, Angelo. I promise I won’t make a fuss. I’ll just be there in the back, not bugging you.

I sigh, thinking it over for a moment.. “All right, fine. But I don’t want you anywhere near my bride or me.”

“That’s okay. I just want to be there for you.”

“Whatever. I’ll email you the invitation.” I pause. “No plus ones, though. I don’t want you bringing some skank to the wedding in front of Mama.”

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