Secret Babies for the Italian Mafia Boss: A Dark Mafia Secret Baby Romance (Possessive Mafia Kings Book 5)

I’m standing in my bakery and have no idea where to start. It still smells like smoke, and I feel defeated. There’s so much to do, and when there is a long list of items that need to be achieved, the overwhelming weight of everything that needs to be accomplished makes it seem like, why bother doing it all.

And don’t get me started on Luca.

He argued with me last night to try and convince the kids and me to go home with him where we could be safe.

I denied him.

We might have rekindled an old spark, which was absolutely amazing and possibly a bad idea. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all morning. I’m thinking about his lips on mine, the weight of his body, the way he felt against me. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel his lips on mine, the warmth of his breath, and my entire body awakens from the memory.

How can one man have so much power over me?

“Knock. Knock.”

I spin around to see Taylor standing in the doorway. His hands are in his pockets, and he is wearing a beanie.

“Hey, it’s so good to see a friendly face.” I give him a hug, and he tightens his hold before letting go. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check in on you. Yesterday was a stressful day. I can’t imagine how hard this is on you.”

“Thank you.” I squeeze his hand. “And I’m sorry for how Luca treated you yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” he says, but I’m not too convinced because his jaw flexes. “I don’t know why you hang around that guy. He isn’t good news.”

“Taylor, can we not do this right now, please. I don’t want to get into it. I have so much to do. I need to get the bakery up and running, so I don’t lose too much money.”

“How about we talk about solutions while getting a cup of coffee at Cora’s?”

“That actually sounds like something I need. I need a jumpstart to my day.” I grab my coat and purse, following Taylor out the door.

It’s a gloomy day. The sky is full of gray clouds, and the wind holds a chill. Not many people are out to avoid the weather, and it’s noticeable as soon as we enter Cora’s coffee shop.

She’s behind the counter on the phone, and when she hears the bell jingle to tell her she has guests, she gives us a big smile. “The regular?” she asks us.

“Yes, please,” I say, taking a seat in the corner booth.

“No one makes a caramel non-fat latte like you, Cora,” Taylor says to her and makes a sound of disgust.

“Please make mine fat. As far as you can.”

“You got it,” she laughs. “How are the kiddos? I feel like I haven’t seen them,” she pouts while making the espresso.

“They love daycare. They always want to go and hang out with their friends, so why not? Next year they will be in kindergarten, so I might as well get used to them being away from home.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Taylor questions, sliding into the booth after he takes his jacket off.

“I don’t know. It’s going to be hard. There’s this side of me that isn’t ready to let them go, but then there’s that other side that won’t mind having a breather. Does that make me a bad parent?”

He snorts in disbelief. “No, that makes you human. Anyone would feel like they would need a break, Camilla. You’re doing great. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“Thank you. It’s been so hard being away for so long. While my dad’s death was an unfortunate circumstance, I’m happy I’m home with friends. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until recently.” I grip his hand, tightening my hold to show how much I appreciate him, but when I go to pull away, Taylor holds onto me, and his thumb brushes over the tops of my knuckles.

“You don’t ever have to worry about being alone again, Camilla.”

Cora interrupts and saves the day. “Here you go. If you need anything, let me know. Looks like a late morning rush came in.” Cora bounces away, her ponytail swinging with every step.

I’m able to pull my hand away and wrap my palms around the cup, so it looks like I need to do something with it, but in reality, I’m screaming on the inside because the damn mug is so hot.

He leans back and sips his too. “So, is there something going on with you and Luca?”

Is there?

According to what happened between us yesterday, there is.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and blow the steam away from my coffee. “I don’t know. There’s always been something there. We’re working through it.”

“Always? How long have you known him.”

“Five years,” I mumble around the rim of my mug.

“That’s a long time, but it’s never too late to cut someone out of your life.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Not really. You have nothing tying you to him except rent.”

Offhandedly, without thinking, I say, “And my kids.” I realize my mistake and hold my breath, staring at the brown liquid of my coffee. I’m too nervous to look at Taylor. The only other person who knows the truth is Cora.

“The father of your kids is Luca Bianco?” he hisses, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Shhh.” I lean forward and look around to make sure we don’t grab anyone’s attention. “Will you keep it down?”

“Keep it down?” His mouth drops open. “He doesn’t know?” Taylor somehow manages to become louder.

“Shut up!” I hold a hand over his mouth and give a grim smile to someone giving us dirty looks. “Please, be quiet, Taylor. Please,” I beg, the words holding a slight tremble to them. “Please, Taylor.”

He nods, gently wrapping his hand around my wrist before pulling it down. “Okay,” he whispers. “I’m just so shocked. I mean, how doesn’t he know? They look a lot like him now that I think about it. How did this happen? When did this happen?”

“Five-ish years ago.”

“Five years.” Taylor’s face softens as he stares at me. “You were gone for five years.”

“I was.” My heart breaks at the memory. When I think about that entire situation, it almost doesn’t feel real.

“Your dad?”

I nod, taking a comfortable sip of my coffee, trying to get my soul to feel better. “He wasn’t happy, and he didn’t know who the father was. He was very disappointed in me. I didn’t know who Luca was at the time. I was at his club. One thing led to another, but neither of us had any idea who the other was. I haven’t told him the truth because I’ve gone so many years hiding it that now I don’t know how to go about saying it. I’ve imagined it.” A sad chuckle leaves me, and I tap the side of my head with my finger. “I’ve played the conversation a million times in my head. I’ve replayed his reactions, from sad to angry to happy. I’ve envisioned his facial expressions. Everything you can think of, I’ve done. Now I have the chance to do it, and I’m being a coward. I guess I don’t want to be tossed aside again. I barely made peace with my father before he died. I can’t imagine having to go the rest of my life fighting with Luca. Not saying anything, as bad as it sounds, it’s easier.”

“Easier doesn’t mean better. He deserves to know, but you know what you should never tell him?”

“Hmm?”

“The location of your father’s fortune.”

“Taylor—”

“—No, listen. You can tell him the truth about the twins, but it will link you in more intimate ways. He’ll think he has rights to more information.”

“Like…” I’m not catching on.

“Like your father’s fortune. He might use your kids against you to find out where all that money is. I’m just saying you can’t be too careful.”

I never thought about that, but still, as I sit here and process what Taylor just said, my instincts tell me I have nothing to worry about. Luca has been nothing but a gentleman to me this entire time. He’s treated the kids amazing and while he is intense most of the time, never once have I gotten an ill feeling in my stomach.

Not like I get around Taylor. It isn’t often, and I blame being alone for five years with no friends. I have distrust in every person I meet, but Taylor hasn’t done anything either. He’s been supportive too. He’s helped me with the bakery and even helped me bake a last-minute batch of cookies. He’s been so nice.

But I’ve learned that nice can be a mask to trick everyone into talking to the devil.

“That’s something to keep in mind. Thanks for letting me know.”

He leans forward and plops his elbows on the counter. “Have you seen that fortune? What if someone else stumbles upon it?”

“No. Honestly, I don’t care if someone finds it. I don’t think they will. It’s in a place not even I would have thought he’d ever put it, but if someone does, then they need it more than me. I don’t need money. I am set if I truly want to be. I can dip into the funds my father left me without touching that fortune. I don’t want to, but I’ll probably use them to fix the bakery.”

“You aren’t even interested? I mean, it’s like a buried treasure and a fun scavenger hunt if people are invested enough.”

“I’m sure they are invested. I’m not. That money—” I exhale, trying to find the right words. “If I take it for myself, it’s like saying the last five years didn’t happen.”

“No, that’s payment for the shit he put you through. It’s payment for the isolation he caused. It’s fair to you, Camilla. It was like you were on an island raising two kids alone. I can’t imagine how hard that was, so yes, you deserve that mon—” he’s cut off by the sound of drilling coming from next door.

I stand, listening to make sure it’s coming from where I think it’s coming from. “That’s coming from the bakery!” I leave my coffee where it is and run out the door, nearly running into someone coming into the coffee shop. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.” I rush to my shop and notice a construction truck and five men in hard hats coming in and out of my bakery. “What the hell? Excuse me.” I try to talk to one of the guys, but he ignores me. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I spew in irritation.

I storm inside O-Squared, and when my eyes land on a man with a clipboard, I stomp my way over and snatch the clipboard from his hands. “Excuse me, who are you? And why are you here?” I ask, a little bit more rudely than I intended, but I don’t like unexpected people in my store when it isn’t open. “And how did you get in here.”

“I owed a favor to Mr. Bianco. He said you needed a new wall and such. I’m here to do that.” It’s hard to understand him with his thick New York accent. “It’ll be quick. Few days tops. You can ask Bianco. I’m good for it.”

I hand him his clipboard and rub my temples. “Mr. Bianco sent you here.”

“Ya,” he chews on a piece of bubblegum with his mouth open, and it makes this God-awful pop sound. “Said, huh, let me find it.” He flips through the paperwork and stabs his finger on the paper before blowing a bubble. “Said, ‘I need a favor. Fix my girl’s shop. It’s got wicked smoke damage due to a fire.’ Well, I said wicked. He said something more elegant because, you know, he’s Bianco. I owe him anything he wants. My Tracy got her chemo treatment because of him, and now she’s in remission, so whatever Bianco wants, he gets.”

“That’s great. That’s so great. I love that your Tracy is alive and well—”

He grins, pulling out his wallet. “—You want to see a picture? I’m so proud of her. She finally went back to school.”

I’m about to stop him, but Tracy is staring back at me in a small square photo. She’s wearing a blue shirt with pink hearts on it, and her hair has grown out, but it’s more like a pixie cut.

“Doesn’t she look great?”

My annoyance vanishes when I stare at the picture. “Tracy looks amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. She’s my little fighter. I don’t know what I’d do without that kid.” He tucks his wallet into his back pocket and grabs a pen that’s tucked over his ear, clicking it. “So, what can I help you with?” He asks, just as the drilling starts again.

“I didn’t pay for this!” I shout over the noise.

“What?” he yells in return.

“I didn’t—” the loud noise stops “—I didn’t pay for this.”

“It’s taken care of. Mr. Bianco took care of it already.”

“Did he?” I put my hand on my hips and wish that man was standing in front of me right now. “How long is this going to take?”

“Few days, max,” he reassures.

“Do you have Mr. Bianco’s cell phone number?”

“No,” he laughs, shaking his head as if I’m crazy. “No one has his number.”

“Perfect. Just. Perfect. Thank you.” Something shatters, and I run to the counter and notice they have broken the glass shelves where I place the pastries.

“We’ll fix that. It probably needs to be gutted anyway.”

“Great. Perfect. You’re doing great.” I try and remain calm and take a deep breath. That man…I can’t believe he’d do this without talking to me first. He would know that I wouldn’t be okay with it. This is my store. He can’t just come in and save the day because he thinks he can. This is my responsibility.

I cross my arms and walk out of the store. Taylor is waiting for me.

“Are you okay?” he guides me across the road to his bookstore and opens the door for me. The smell of books calms me as soon as I enter, and his employee Sam is there behind the front desk.

He gives me a small wave while pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Camilla. How are you?”

“I’m good, Sam. How are you?”

“Great. Fantastic, actually. We just got some special editions of a book I’ve been wanting, so I’m excited.”

I snicker, loving how cute he is when it comes to books. I don’t get to see him often because he is a full-time student, and he only works here a few days a week. I haven’t seen him in a while, now that I think about it.

“You’re mad,” Taylor whispers in my ear.

“You could say that,” I mumble.

“Why? Isn’t it great that he is fixing the store for you?” He guides us to a table surrounded by bean bag chairs, and I plop down, sighing.

“I should really get one of these.”

“They are my favorite chairs in the world but don’t change the subject. What’s going on?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing. I’m being proud and stubborn. I’m used to doing things on my own and taking care of myself.”

“But that’s not the case anymore; plus, you’ll have to get used to it. Especially when you tell him about the kids.”

“Yeah, I know, but he could have talked to me about it.”

“You aren’t wrong there, but you have to remember who you are talking about. This is Luca Bianco. He isn’t a man who communicates first. He’s all about action. Doing. In his world, that’s how things get done. That’s how things are accomplished in his world. He isn’t a normal man, Camilla. If you want a communicator, Luca isn’t the guy you need to be with. He is a doer. He’ll do before he says, and you need to be ready for that.”

A large family comes into the bookstore, and Taylor pats my knee. “I have to go help them, but stay as long as you like, okay?”

“Thank you. I think I’ll head to my apartment and take a nap. Thank you for everything. You’re such a good friend.”

Something passes over his eyes, and the feeling in my gut twists again, screaming at me that something is wrong, but again, I don’t know what it could be.

“No problem. Do you need me to get the kids from daycare?”

My heart slams against my chest as I think about them with someone else again. Alvize and Luca have been enough. The kids took to them so easily, and I don’t want to risk them being with someone they don’t know. I’m not ready for that. Yes, they have seen Taylor, but they haven’t hung out with him like they have with Luca.

“No, it’s okay. I told them I’d get them for dinner today.” I lie. Why do I lie to get out of Taylor being kind? “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Camilla.”

I open the door and let the cold air hit my face, not bothering to look back at Taylor because I feel his eyes on me.

I think I’m being paranoid. “You’re used to being alone. He’s being nice. Calm down,” I tell myself, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. I pass the construction crew, taking out slabs of drywall and countertop space.

And as I watch them, I feel relief.

Relief that it isn’t all on me. Relief that I don’t have to scramble for funds to save the bakery. Luca took it out of my hands, so I didn’t have to worry about it. If I complained to him right now, I know what he would say.

“Beautiful Girl, I know you can take care of this by yourself, but I’m showing you that you don’t have to.”

No one should be that perfect.

It’s why I’m going to tell him the truth. He’s been nothing but good to me, and I’ve kept him at arm’s length, doubting him, being angry at him for stepping into my life and trying to take over, but all he has done is help.

I open my apartment door, and a chill other than the weather slides down my spine like a slithering snake. I look over my shoulder at the bookstore, but Taylor is chatting with customers; I can see him through the window.

A few cars pass by, but the road still isn’t busy, and I watch the vehicles pass me, waiting to see if I notice anyone watching me—but I don’t.

The gripping turmoil is still there. Goosebumps arise all over my skin. When someone has their eyes on you, you just know. It’s intuition.

Not wanting to waste any more time, I step inside, and a hand on my shoulder stops me.

I scream, slapping the person’s arm away.

“Woah, hey.” It’s the construction worker that I spoke with in the bakery. “Are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost, but I promise, it’s just me.”

“God, you scared me.” I press a hand to my chest and swallow.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. We will be back tomorrow. We took out the oven, but after tomorrow, most of the damage will be gone. By this time next week, you’ll be looking at a brand-new store.”

“Great.” I’m sad. I really liked the store as it was, but that’s okay.

“And Luca said the oven was recalled?” he asks, stopping himself as he turns away.

“That’s right,” I say. “That’s what the fireman said.”

“Huh. Alright.” He takes off his worn blue baseball cap, scratching his sweat-soaked hair. He tries to leave again, but I grab his arm to stop him.

“Why?”

“It’s probably nothing. It probably has everything to do with the recall.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it looked tampered with to me. There was a cut to one of the wires. It was clean and crisp, and usually, that means someone cut it, but with the recall, maybe it’s just a faulty wire. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Right, because that will make me worry less.

He snaps his fingers as if he didn’t just solidify the fact that I won’t be sleeping tonight. “And it looks like a mess in there, but don’t worry about cleaning it. We will be making a mess against tomorrow.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Anything for Bianco.” He gives me a wave and climbs into his old beat-up white truck. It grumbles to life, the exhaust sputtering and coughing black smoke.

Well, that can’t be good.

I decide to take a peek into my bakery and lock up. It’s a good thing too. The construction worker left the key Luca gave him. Tucking it in my pocket, I brush off the drywall dust from a nearby chair and sit down.

The destruction seems to be more than I thought. There’s a giant hole in the wall where the oven was, but more wall was taken from the sides due to the fire. There are pieces of glass on the ground, and I know he told me not to clean, but I think about my kids. What if they come down here when I have my back turned and cut themselves?

From the back, I grab the broom and dustpan and begin to sweep.

Sweeping up my new life is so irritating. I’m always starting over. Something always happens, and I know that’s life, but God, I’m so sick of it sometimes.

My eyes water as I sweep, staring at the pieces of glass sliding into the dustpan. I feel like they represent every piece of me that’s been broken over the years.

One piece of exhaustion.

One piece for loneliness.

One piece for betrayal.

They keep adding up, and if I put them together, I bet it would look like a fractured statue barely able to maintain its form.

I wipe my cheeks on my shirt by rubbing it against my shoulder. I pour the shards of glass into the trash before dropping the dustpan on the ground and sweeping again.

I’m not sure how much time I spend here. I get lost, cleaning like I shouldn’t because it’s going to be a mess again tomorrow, but I need to take my mind off everything. I could close the bakery permanently. I could live off my dad’s money and never have another worry again.

Even the thought of never baking again has me feeling sad. Baking is the one thing besides my children that makes me happy. It got me through horrible times when I was a brand-new mom and on the brink of losing my sanity because I had two newborns who cried at the same time.

They would sleep, and I couldn’t, so I baked, and it calmed me mentally and emotionally. I finally had something for myself, something that didn’t involve my kids.

I know. That sounds terrible, but at the time, there was a brief moment when I hated them. I was depressed. I sobbed into my pillow every night. I never wanted to get out of bed when they cried for me.

If they cried. I cried. I didn’t know how to be a mom. I wanted to give up. I hated that I felt like my kids took something from me.

Even when I thought I hated them, I loved them too. It was a sick, twisted emotion to feel, but I decided to do something that didn’t center around the twins.

And that’s how I found baking. I found something to do for myself. It healed me, and eventually, my babies healed me too. My mental state got better. I was happier. It was then I determined I never needed anyone but myself and the twins.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my depressing thoughts. It’s the alarm to go pick up Oliver and Olivia from daycare. Have I been cleaning for that long? Where did the time go?

I roll my head over my shoulders, stretch my neck and lean the broom against the wall. My phone buzzes again, and this time, it’s from a number I don’t recognize.

“Hello?” I answer, walking out of the bakery with my keys in hand.

“I wanted to let you know I’m on my way to pick up Olivia and Oliver, Beautiful Girl.”

“How did you know they needed to be picked up right now?” I ask.

“I looked at your calendar on your phone and sent a copy to myself.”

“That’s a big invasion of privacy, Luca. I could have had pictures or something I didn’t want you to see.”

He grumbles on the other end of the line, and I grin. “Do you have pictures you don’t want me to see?”

I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I had pictures from someone else I didn’t want you to see either.”

This time, a displeased growl causes static to build over the connection. “The only fucking pictures you’ll be seeing are ones of me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m on dating apps. Maybe I’m having hot cyber-sex. You don’t know.”

Silence.

I pull the phone away to look at the screen. “Luca?”

“I’ll see you in a half hour.” He hangs up the phone, and I gulp, wondering what monster I have created.

I wonder what awaits me when I see him. With a mischievous smirk, I put my phone in my pocket and lock the door to the bakery. Not that anyone would break in right now since it looks like crap, and there is no money in the cash register since I took it out earlier. I dig into my jacket pocket for my apartment keys which have way too many key chains on them.

I have a Las Vegas key chain, and I’ve never been. I want to go, but when will I ever have time? Then there’s the heavy pepper spray can I keep attached to it as well, which weighs it down more than everything else.

A hand wraps around my mouth, and I’m pulled against a hard body. “You think you’d be left alone, bitch?” The voice is distorted, and I’m dragged away from the entrance to my apartment. I kick and try to scream, but his hold on me is too tight. I whimper, clawing at his forearms, and he takes a turn around the corner of the building. My boots dig into the grass and dirt, leaving a trail in hopes that someone will find me.

I think of Oliver and Olivia. Who will they have? No one knows Luca is the father. I didn’t put him on their birth certificates because I never thought I’d see him again. If I survive this, that’s the first thing I’m doing.

The mugger, or whoever he is, lets me go when we get to the woods, and I try to make a run for it, but he snags me by the back of the neck and shoves me against a tree. The bark scratches against my cheek, and the slick soil has me losing traction.

“Where the fuck is the fortune?” he asks. “I know, you know. If you tell me, I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt your kids, but if you don’t…I’ll make sure you watch everyone you love die,” he whispers maniacally into my ear. “Tell me.” He flips me onto my back and I notice he’s wearing black from head to toe. His face is covered by a black mask that has a digital covering for his eyes.

It mimics his eyes blinking, and it’s unsettling.

I can’t tell who this person is.

My keychain jingles, and I remember the pepper spray.

He slaps me across the face. “I said fucking tell me!”

“Fuck you!” I yell, lifting my leg and kneeing him in the crotch.

He folds, dropping to his knees. I yank his hood back, and he manages to grab onto my ankle. He yanks my leg up, and I fall onto my back.

The leaves and twigs beneath us crack and break. The air becomes harder to breathe. The cool chill hurts my throat as I try to breathe it in.

He shoves my head into the ground, taking away my ability to breathe, and I kick. I keep kicking until I land on something solid. He howls in pain, and I scurry away, grabbing my pepper spray again.

His eye mask is crooked, and I don’t look long enough to see who it is because I want to get out of here. I press the button to release the spray, and when it hits him, he screams, holding his face in his hands as the pepper spray does its job. He rolls onto the ground, crying from how badly it burns.

And I run. I put him behind me as fast as my legs allow.

I slip on the leaves again and stumble onto the sidewalk.

No one is here.

No one heard me screaming.

My hands are shaking, and I run to the apartment, locking the door without wasting a second.

Climbing up the stairs, I grip the rails, tripping as I try to get to my front door as quickly as I can. I sob when I enter my apartment, slamming the door shut and locking it too. I don’t feel like it’s enough. I need a bookshelf to be put in front of it.

I turn to make sure the curtains are shut, and when they are, I just stand there in the middle of my living room, trying to figure out what happened. Every inch of me quakes. When I get my phone out, my hands tremble as if I’ve been in the cold for too long.

My phone lights up, and I press the last number to call me.

It rings.

And rings.

Then, his smooth voice comes on the line, and it breaks me. “Beautiful Girl,” he croons.

“Luca! Luca,” I sob, unable to speak. “I…You were right. Someone tried to kidnap me. They wanted to know where…where….” I try to take a deep breath.

“What the hell are you talking about? Where are you? Don’t move. Do you understand? Are you hurt? Please, tell me you aren’t hurt.”

“I…” I lick my lips and press my hand against my cheek. “No. I’m scared. He wanted to know where the fortune was. He threatened everyone. Luca, I’m scared, please. I’ll go with you. We’ll go to your house. I can’t be here. Please,” I beg him.

A car backfires outside, which causes me to jump and scream at the same time.

“Go to your room. Lock the door. Alvize can watch the kids. I’m coming to get you, okay? And don’t you dare open the door for me until you hear my voice. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper, rushing to my room. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you. Anything.”

And I believe him. I don’t have a doubt in my mind now.