“Friends?” His eyebrow arches. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I’m happy to hear you don’t make a habit of this.” His expression turns serious for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow night at the club. But no private dances.”
I’m surprised by how relieved I feel. Private dances pay better, but I’m not ready to be trapped in a small room with another stranger. Not after the other night. If he wants to be protective and bossy, fine. This time, it’s working for me.
He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lips, then heads for the door. I’m about to follow him when Austin calls out from the bathroom.
“Mommy! I need help with the shampoo!”
I glance back at Alessio, who’s paused by the door. “Go ahead,” he says. “I’m leaving.”
I hurry to the bathroom to help Austin, but even as I’m shampooing his hair, I’m listening for the sound of the front door.
It takes longer than it should.
When the lock finally turns, I should feel safe. Instead, it sounds like the start of a countdown.
22
ALESSIO
The kid looks exactlylike me.
Not just a passing resemblance. He’s like looking at a photograph of myself at that age. Same amber eyes, same stubborn jawline, same dimple in his left cheek. The only thing he got from Nina is that wild dark hair.
Which means he could be mine.
The timeline’s tight, but not impossible. If Nina lied about his age by even a year, the math works. And let’s be honest, I’m hardly an expert on judging kids’ ages. Six, seven—I can’t tell the difference. They’re just pint-sized humans to me.
I stayed in her apartment until she disappeared into the bathroom, long enough to palm the sucker stick Austin left on her coffee table. His saliva is all over it, which means I can get answers instead of driving myself insane with speculation.
The Chemist owes me favors, and more importantly, he keeps his mouth shut. He usually handles drug analysis for the family,but a simple paternity test should be child’s play. Three days for results.
As I leave the lab, DNA samples safely delivered, I dial my favorite private investigator. He’s been digging up information for me for years, and he’s never once asked uncomfortable questions.
“I need a full workup on someone,” I tell him. “Nina Walker. Dig deep.”
Nina shared plenty over dinner, and under normal circumstances I’d be content learning about someone slowly. But if she’s the mother of my child? All bets are off. I need to know everything. Her secrets, her troubles, anything that could bite us in the ass later.
Because if Austin is mine, everything changes.
My mother’s been calling nonstop lately, wanting me to visit, but I’ve been busy. Between the Lightning drug investigation and running the strip club, my plate’s been especially full.
But today I actually want the distraction. Plus, she’s probably cooking, and I haven’t had a decent meal in days.
She lives in this Victorian monstrosity on the north side, all gingerbread trim and stained-glass windows. We used to live next to Lorenzo when I was growing up. Family sticks together, especially when you’re raising kids alone. But five years ago, she decided she needed space and bought this place.
I still think it’s too isolated, too far from family protection, but try telling Antonia DeLuca what to do. You’ll have better luck reasoning with a brick wall.
The extra security is still here, which eases some of the tension in my shoulders as I pull up. She's waiting on the porch when I get out of the car, wearing a red dress that makes her look regal instead of like someone’s mom. Her grey-streaked hair is braided down her back, and she’s already smiling like she’s been looking forward to this all week.
“Finally,” she says when I climb the steps. Her hug is brief but genuine. Physical affection has never been her strong suit. Growing up with an emotionally distant father will do that to you.
Her father was a cold bastard who ran the family with ruthless efficiency, more feared than respected. He was just as hard on his kids.
Paolo, the youngest, always felt inferior to Lorenzo, who was destined to be don from birth. But my mother had it worst of all, completely overlooked because of her gender.
