Since she worked for him, she didn’t do any of her studies. She’d graduated high school, but that was it. Before Jessica had her baby, Tessa cleaned his home to make her way.
He couldn’t even recall a time she left the mansion unless it was to go and see her parents’ graves. Once a year wasn’t healthy.
She looked way too pale to him.
“Come with me.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re not. Follow me.”
She nodded her head, and he held out his hand, which she took. Even if she hadn’t placed her hand within his, he’d have made it so.
Simple as.
When it came to Tessa, she was like a different kind of woman, one he didn’t really understand.
He was used to women who liked to fuck around. Play mind games.
Tessa didn’t have a boyfriend. She was a good girl.
It’s what her father used to say about her whenever he’d show off a picture. His daughter was his pride and joy. In the mafia, the men wanted sons, not girls. Having a daughter wasn’t to be celebrated. Not until she proved her use to them by spreading her legs for the right husband.
Maxwell Brown had been different.
For ten years he and his wife had tried for a baby. Much to their disappointment, they hadn’t been blessed with children easily. When his wife finally did fall pregnant, Maxwell was like a crazed man.
For nine straight months it was his mission to rid the world of every single evil man he could find, and to make them all pay.
Alonzo couldn’t blame him. The world was full of bad people who did bad things, the mafia included.
They didn’t want to know the sex of their child, so on the day she was born, it was a surprise.
Alonzo had been at the hospital the day she was born, as had his father. At fifteen years old, he’d known Maxwell’s loyalty was greatly respected by his family. They’d do anything for him, knowing he would take a bullet, a knife, his own life to see the Zanetti family thrive.
From the time she took her first steps, to her first word, all of it, Maxwell had been a proud daddy.
Alonzo released her hand as they got to the library, and he took a seat on one of the long sofas.
“Sit down,” he said.
She sat on the edge of the sofa.
Tense.
Unyielding.
Petrified.
He didn’t want her to be scared.
At thirty-five years old, he’d never felt anything for a woman other than the most basic need. With Tessa, it was different. The moment he told her about her parents’ death, he watched her fall apart. She screamed, cried, sobbed, and seeing that kind of emotion and love, it had torn at his heart.
A heart he didn’t think he had.
Her hands rested on her knees, and she wasn’t looking at him. He wanted her to look at him.
“You’re not supposed to be doing all the work with Caesar.”
She lifted her head.
Success.
“I’m his nanny.”
“Last time I checked I employed two of them. I’m not ignorant of the fact Michele likes to do anything but what I tell her to, unless she thinks she looks good. But I don’t have time to employ another nanny, especially one that will keep her mouth shut. You shouldn’t be doing everything.”
“I love looking after him. He’s a sweet boy.”
“He’s not going to stay sweet very long.” He had no choice but to remind her. He was Zanetti and Adesso blood. He would become a made man, a member of their mafia world, and because of that, he would have no choice but to make hard decisions. There would be no getting out of this world for him. “If you continue to mother him, he will not adapt well.”
“Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t your children take over?”
Staring at Tessa, he had an overwhelming feeling to see her heavily pregnant with his child, her virgin body belonging to him.
To have her look at him with an even deeper love and adoration than she once had for her parents. He’d never experienced that kind of emotion.
“Were you not loved by your mother?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “She knew what I was to become and gave all that love and devotion to Jessica. You ever wonder why she’s a spoiled little bitch, thank our mother. She made her that way. Whatever she wanted, she got. I was taught how to be hard. How to kill a man. By the time I was fifteen I’d already killed five men. There’s no room for softness in a man like me, Tessa.”
He saw tears fill her eyes. “Then I feel sorry for you.”
“You shouldn’t feel sorry for me at all.” He stared down her body. No matter how much she tried to hide them, her tits were like a beacon. He’d watched her for two years sneaking out of every single room that he entered.