Page 15 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

"I heard you?—"

"You heard wrong." My hand moves on its own, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Don't," she whispers, but there's no conviction behind it. She feels this thing between us too.

I should step back, maintain the walls I've built. But something about Gabriella has always made me reckless.

"Don't what?" My voice is rough.

"Don't touch me like you still have the right."

But she leans into my touch.

The contradiction tears at me.

This woman, brilliant, infuriating, beautiful, has always seen through my defenses.

Even now, angry as I am, I want her with an intensity that terrifies me.

“Tell me you don’t ever think about last Christmas,” I challenge, my thumb grazing her cheek.

Her eyes darken, pupils dilating. Anger or desire? With Gabriella, it’s sometimes hard to tell.

"I hate you," she whispers, but her body betrays her, swaying toward mine.

"No, you don't." I'm certain of this, even as everything else between us lies in ruins. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

The space between us shrinks to nothing.

Gabriella's breath mingles with mine.

Her lips part in what might be protest or invitation.

I'm teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall back into the abyss that is us, the magnetic pull that nearly a year apart hasn't diminished.

My hand cups her cheek, thumb tracing her lower lip. Her eyes flutter closed.

She sucks in a breath. "Marco, I?—"

The door bangs open.

"Marco, Antonio is—" Roman freezes mid-sentence, taking in the scene before him. "Shit."

Gabriella jumps back like she's been burned. She hurries around my desk, avoiding Roman's knowing gaze.

I clear my throat, straightening my tie though it doesn't need it. "What is it, Roman?"

He glances between us, one eyebrow raised. "Don Monti is asking for his daughter."

Relief rushes through me because whatever was about to happen would have complicated everything further. "Tell him she'll be right there," I say.

Roman nods, lingering as if he’s expecting an explanation. “Of course.” With a final glance at Gabriella, he backs out, closing the door behind him.

The interruption has shattered whatever spell had fallen over us.

Gabriella's guard is back up, her expression closed off. Good, because the last thing I need is to fall under her spell again.

"Your father is waiting," I say, rebuilding my own defenses.