Page 131 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

"Stay behind me," he whispers, keeping his weapon out.

We enter the cavernous space. It’s like walking into the universe—dark, cold, quiet.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“But if he was here to meet Marco?—”

“We’ll deal with Marco when he comes.”

I stare at Frank realizing he’s not planning to spy on Marco.

He’s planning to kill him.

Frank's expression darkens as he circles the space. His movements grow increasingly agitated.

"He should be here," he hisses, checking his watch. "The meeting was scheduled for 4:30."

I force myself to remain calm. "Maybe they changed locations. Or the time."

“Then who was that fucker outside?” Frank's eyes narrow as he scans the empty warehouse once more.

He turns to me slowly, gun still in hand.

"This doesn't make sense. Unless… this was never real to begin with."

I keep my expression neutral. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe Marco knew all along." Frank steps closer, studying my face. "Maybe he knew you were working with Blackwood and fed you false information."

I shrug. "Maybe. But then wouldn’t they be here to catch us in the act?” I’m pleased my brain is still working a little bit. “If that’s the case, we should leave before he arrives.”

“Maybe that’s who the dead guy was. The lookout.” Frank shakes his head and appears to process the situation.

Finally, he looks at me. “Why are you home? If Marco was still guarding you, keeping you close to make sure you weren't working against him, why would he suddenly let you go?"

My mind races. I can't tell him the truth, that I left because I'm pregnant with Marco's child and he wants nothing to do with us.

I need an explanation that makes sense, something Frank would believe.

“Christmas. I wanted to be home for Christmas.”

Frank's expression remains skeptical. "And Marco just let you go? After all his concerns about your being a liability?"

I nod, trying to look confident. "Maybe he wanted me out so he could enact his plan."

“Except he’s not here.” Frank stares at me for what feels like an eternity, his eyes searching mine.

I hold his gaze, forcing myself not to look away, not to blink too much, not to show any sign that might betray me.

"Something doesn't add up.” He checks his watch again.

He shakes his head and begins to circle me like a predator, his eyes never leaving my face.

I swear I can see the wheels turning in his head, recalculating the situation and slowly becoming suspicious of me.

“Maybe you’re playing both sides,” he says.