Page 74 of The Don's Hidden Heir

I shake my head once, though I have a feeling it has something to do with me not coming to dinner as he requested.

Sweat trickles down my forehead, but I sit straight. I can’t show terrified I am of him.

“Ms. Marconi,” he says, his sly smile widening. I think I’m going to throw up. “You look even more beautiful today.”

What an odd way to greet someone.

I try to force a smile, but I can’t through the pounding of my heart against my ribcage. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“I know, my dear, but I was expecting you last night.”

Right!

He’d sent the address to his mansion yesterday morning. I deleted the message as soon as it came in. I couldn’t risk Dominic reading it and getting upset.

His eyes meet Moira’s, who is spitting venom at him with her eyes. “You must be…”

“Moira Carter,” she says. My best friend is such a sly fox, she fakes a smile so easily. “We’ve met before.”

“Ah. Your face seemed quite familiar.” She shakes her head in disgust. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy with my nephew’s girlfriend, or baby mama. Whatever you young people call it these days.”

“Just stick to calling her by her name,” Moira says. Her tone doesn’t hold any humor.

Mr. Peterson nods. “You’re right. I should stick to her name.”

Moira looks at me and I nod at her. She sends Mr. Peterson one last disgusted glare before she leaves.

When she closes the door behind her, Mr. Peterson helps himself to one of the chairs across from my desk. “How are you, my dear?”

I scoff. I’m not in the mood for his silly games today, and judging by how he is here, he’s probably aware I know his true identity already. “Get straight to the point, Mr. Peterson. I’m certain you aren’t here to ask how well I slept last night and if I’ve had breakfast.”

He laughs like a mad man, thudding his feet on the floor and slapping my desk. “This is why I like you, Elena. You’re so fierce. So entertaining.”

The last thing I want to do is entertain this old goat. My eyes dart to a silver ballpoint pen in my desk organizer. My fingers are itching to reach out for it to poke his damn eyes out.

I curl my hands into fists and remind myself not to let him get to me. “This is my office, Mr. Peterson. It’s not a circus and there are no clown costumes, please leave if you have nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, trust me. I have something to talk about.” He leans in and his face deforms into that annoying smirk he always has. “Something you may find really interesting.”

Whatever trick Mr. Peterson is up to, I know it won’t be anything funny. Nothing good can come from this man.

“What is that?” My voice doesn’t tremble when I ask. Instead, it resonates with a power I didn’t even think I had in me.

He takes out his phone from one of his pockets, scrolls through it for a moment and holds it out to me. “See for yourself.”

I’m reluctant to take the phone from him. My heartbeat is like a battle drum in my ears and I’m scared of what I’ll find. My hands don’t stop trembling when I finally oblige and take the phone from him.

There’s no oxygen in the room for me to breath when I see the picture of his men holding Lucas on phone I’ve just taken. “Why...why…” I’m stuttering. I can’t speak through the fear engulfing me, pulling me under a tidal wave of horror.

He has Lucas.

He has my son.

My eyes are wide and they’re wet with the tears I’m fighting back. “Don’t you dare hurt my son!” I try to be strong, but my voice cracks.

Peterson takes his phone from me. “I’m sorry, pretty one. You’re asking for too much.” He pretends to be thinking. “We can negotiate on something else though.”

“What is it you want? I’ll give anything for you to let my son go. Even my life.”

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