Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father

Chapter 22

Chapter 22 Brooklyn

I spend a restless night in my new room. When the clock reads 7:00a.m., a knock comes at my door and it opens without waiting for a response. I glare and make a mental note to somehow get a lock.

"Ah! You're awake." The same woman who dressed me last night bustles into the room. "You're already late, my dear."

"Seven?" I ask, looking at the clock again. "Seven is late?"

"The household starts at five," she says, coming over and starting to make the bed while I'm still in it. When I head for the door in my pajamas, she makes a small noise of warning. I look back at her. "You'll want to change, my dear," she says. "This house dresses for its meals."

***

No one is in the hall when, dressed in tight fawn-colored pants and a silky green sweater, I walk down the stairs. I hear some noise at the end of the hallway and push through the door there.

I blink in surprise as I suddenly find myself in a gigantic kitchen filled with people. There are mismatched tables scattered all around and, behind a low wall, a restaurant-sized cooking range. From it wafts the scent of breakfast foods-sharp with onions and rich with butter.

My stomach growls, and Lena paws at me a bit.

"Brooklyn!" Hudson says, spotting me from across the room. His face lights up. I can't help returning his smile, he's so cute and genuine.

the busy

hungry?" he asks, giving me a happy grin and sitting back down in his place at a small

was the last time I ate-but my stomach answers for me, giving a big growl that even

I sit. "Good, we'll get you something." He raises a

Guys in suits drinking tiny cups of espresso, guards pass with guns -big guns-passing through, housekeeping staff

I can sense, everyone is a wolf shifter. Something about that makes me feel more comfortable. I didn't grow up with a pack, and even though this isn't a pack, either, there's a "pack" feeling

in what is

busy in here," I say, staring

looks around and

come around the corner from the cooking area carrying a big plate of food. I stare at the long white butcher's apron wrapped around his waist, the taut strings

I realize I'm biting my lower lip while I look at him, I quickly spit it out and close my mouth. "Good morning, Brooklyn," Aden says, setting the plate in front of me. Shocked,

plate, scrambled

a buttered slice of crusty Italian bread. It looks

Aden says. I whip my head up to see that

Truly, I am surprised.

a man if he can't cook his own breakfast," Aden says,

forward. I nod, and he looks up at his

done,” Aden says, and I follow his eyes to a gigantic vintage Gaggia Orione espresso machine in the corner. My jaw drops-it's probably the most gorgeous