Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father

Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Brooklyn

Instead, I move to the opposite side of the room, to where the photo albums are.

Some of them are very old-a hundred years or more, even.

The academic in me wants to explore those early photographs, but instead I reach for the newer bindings farther down, hoping for some information about Hudson and his upbringing.

I take a few volumes over to the little chair, flipping through.

I smile, recognizing Hudson's face in a few of the first photos, but then frown when I realize that they're too old-grainy old photos, with fashion from the 1980s...

I blink, shocked, realizing that these must be pictures of Aden when he was a child.

Fascinated, I flip through, looking at the people who must have been his mother and father, his family. His original pack.

I quickly flip to the front of the book where I find a picture of a beautiful, dark-haired woman, who is happily caressing her pregnant belly.

This, I'm sure, must be Aden's mother. I study her face for a resemblance to her but frown when I can't find it.

Aden's looks, like Hudson's, must likewise come from his father.

Hoping for pictures of Hudson as a child, I put this album down and pick up the next one. I'm shocked, when I flip it open, to see that it's actually Aden's wedding album.

Slowly, I flip through the photos and take in all the details of their beautiful Italian wedding.

It looks terribly romantic, situated at a beautiful vineyard, the couple's private table set up under a wide- branching olive tree.

There is a photograph, right at the beginning, of the beautiful bride, her stunning face quite serious as she looks directly into the camera.

dress is long, lace, and clinging the opposite of the one that I had chosen for my own wedding. Well...the one Aden had chosen

wonder, passingly, if it was an intentional choice, remembering that none of

as not to distract from her severe expression as she raises her chin and looks proudly

moved by her, curious about this noble-and am I imagining it? A bit melancholy?— mafia

by a single word that

"Brooklyn."

the door, his feet set wide apart, hands in his

photo album languidly, holding his

shrug. "You can't expect a girl to stay in her room all

little smile tugs at my lips as I hear a rumble growing in his

but I do love to piss him

clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to

muscle of frustration flickers in his cheek, making my little smile grow. "You're not to come down to

little pout,

say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no idea you'd consent

QUMS

my hand, glaring at me. Then, he glances down at it, as if

while he stares at the album. "I haven't looked at this in years..."

reverence.

glad to have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while he's

more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I

yell at me

joy does Aden really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant need

worry and need for control that,

flick back to the photo album, wondering if there

"Did you love her?"

Again, my mouth has run away with me-speaking

raises his eyes suddenly, that

question, just tosses the album back onto the shelf as if