The father of my baby is amobster?
“Ah,” I murmur.
Like this couldn’t get any more complicated.
“But don’t worry,” Cassie says. “Word on the street is he’s got morals.”
“Let’s hope that’s true,” I mutter quietly.
“Sorry to be a pain, but do you mind if I leave?”
“No, no, of course not.” I squeeze her arm. “You’ve been amazing, Cass. Really. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. He’s the best.”
She leaves, and I go to the bassinet, looking down at Theo, sleeping soundly with that adorable little smile on his face. He must feel my presence because his eyes peel open, staring at me with those amber-golds. I pick him up as he begins to cry, rocking him softly. In the main hall, people are partying, dancing, and celebrating their purchases. But I’m ready to go home.
Theo tips his head back and starts to really give it his all. He goes full opera singer until I’m afraid every glass in here might shatter.
“Hush, hush,” I murmur, stroking his back. His diaper is A-okay, so I try burping him, but he keeps wailing. My head is splitting with an oncoming headache, but hey, I guess that’s just part of being a mom.
Behind me, somebody clears their throat. I turn, expecting a staff member who’s going to tell me to keep the volume down.
“We’re leaving soon…”
I stop when I see Rafael closing the door behind him. He straightens to his full height, broad and powerful. A mob man who terrified almost everyone into submission. Except for me. But I didn’t know what he was when I made my move.
His eyes dart to Theo. “Is he… yours?”
I nod, mouth dry. “Uh, yeah.”
I turn, gently moving Theo from side to side. His cry is splitting me right down the middle.
“His name is Theo,” I say, feeling a pang in my chest despite myself.
How many times have I dreamed of introducing Theo to his father? Too many.
I wonder if I should say this, considering the bombshell Cassie just dropped. But at the same time, I think it would be unfair not to. He deserves to know, doesn’t he?
“And he’s yours, Rafael,” I say. “Theo is your baby.”
CHAPTER 6
RAFEAL
The words hit me like a gunshot. I take a step back, staring at the crying little bundle. She turns him, her eyes conflicted. She looks like she wants to scream at me to leave and beg me to stay at the same time.
“Theo,” I murmur.
“Hmm,” she mutters.
“Are you sure?—”
“I’m sure,” she cuts in, annoyed. “You were the only person I slept with for over a year, Rafeal. Theo is your child, no doubt about that.”
I walk forward slowly, pulled closer without thinking. When I’m near enough, I see it—the color of his eyes. My mother used to describe them, warm and golden, like something that belonged to the earth itself. I lift my hand to touch him, but Ava steps back.
“What are you doing?” I ask huskily.
