Page 55 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

"Luca. Any word on when he might be coming back?"

His jaw tightens as if he’s as annoyed by Luca’s absence as I am. “As far as I’m aware, Luca will remain in Italy for the time being.”

“Has Antonio shared with him what’s going on?”

Frank shakes his head. “I believe Miss Monti has, but Don Monti says our Italian connections need the Monti presence."

Proud fool, I think of Antonio.

I’m sure he’s minimizing his issues with Luca.

Perhaps he thinks Gabriella is overreacting. Or maybe he just likes Italy and doesn’t want to come home.

I drain my glass. "Thank you, Frank. That will be all."

After he leaves, I sit back in my chair, wondering how I can do more to bring Luca home. If he were here, he could be Gabriella’s guardian.

I close my eyes, wondering how I’ve ended up in a situation in which she’s under my roof, still suspicious of me and my intentions toward her family’s business.

I rub my temples, feeling a headache forming.

I know I have little choice.

Having her here is the only way to ensure she doesn't sabotage everything I'm trying to do for her father.

Whatever game Gabriella is playing, I need to stay one step ahead.

Pushing Gabriella out of my mind, or at least trying to, I refocus on my work.

The whiskey bottle calls to me.

I pour another finger, then stop myself. I can’t afford to dull my wits with Gabriella in my home.

My phone buzzes with a message from Roman.

How's it going with your new houseguest?

I don't respond. What would I say?

That having her under my roof makes me feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff?

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.

Before I can answer, the door swings open, and there is Gabriella, her arms filled with folders and loose papers.

“It’s late,” I say tersely.

She ignores me, kicking the door closed behind her and dumping her papers on my desk. “We’ve only got a week. I figured we should get started."

I raise an eyebrow. "Started on what, exactly?"

"Finding out who's targeting my father." She begins spreading papers across my desk. "I've been collecting information for months."

I scan the documents. Financial records, surveillance photos, meeting notes. She's been busy.

"Your FBI friend give you all this?" I ask, picking up a grainy photo of one of Antonio's businesses.

“That information is on my phone, but it’s similar to what I have here.”