Page 55 of The Don's Secret Heir

“Don’t what? I’m just helping.” I trail down to the zipper, fingertips brushing her bare skin as I slowly pull it up.

I want to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder but I don’t think she’ll appreciate it. Not in the mood she’s in.

“Are you ready?”

I nod and she leaves the room, heading down the stairs in her heels.

My eyes follow the curve of her ass in her tight dress and I curse inwardly.

Maybe this wasn’t the world’s best idea. After all, that dress isn’t only for my eyes.

I grit my teeth, thinking of the other mobsters looking at her. I’ll just have to stay vigilant. One drink only.

“Cheer up,” I tell her. “You at least get a night off.”

She rolls her shoulders. “I guess you’re right. And they always have champagne at these things. I love champagne.”

I chuckle and open the passenger side door of my car for her. She slides inside.

She doesn’t speak much on the way to Vincenzo’s mansion, just looking out the window, but I can tell her mood is lifted by the set of her shoulders, how she hums along with the radio.

“Are the Contes usually invited to Vincenzo’s parties?” she asks incredulously. “Because last year...”

“It’s new. My parents died two years ago, and now that I’ve taken over, Vincenzo and I have a truce.”

She whips around to look at me, her gray eyes wide.

“Your parents died? Oh, God, Dario, what happened?”

I thin my lips in a hard line, not wanting to talk about it, but knowing she won’t drop it.

“Car accident. It was raining. Some guy ran a red light.”

She swallows visibly. “Was he prosecuted?”

I shake my head, smiling humorlessly. “In a way of speaking, I guess. He died on impact.”

While my mother suffered for three days in the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s alright.” My words are clipped and I know it, but I can’t seem to help it.

“Sore subject?”

“You ever met anyone with dead parents and itwasn’ta sore subject?” I snap, and she looks away, dropping it.

I sigh and reach over to touch her knee. She flinches away but she’s looking at me.

“I’m sorry. Itisa sore subject. And I miss them.”

“Of course you do. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

I let out a long breath, feeling almost better now that it’s out there. Maybe Giovanni is right and it’s good to talk things out sometimes.

I usually thrive at these soirees, but I also usually bring someone temporary.

Aunt Liza will be so surprised.