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.

I had chosen for my own wedding. Well...the one Aden

an intentional choice, remembering that none of the dresses selected for me looked anything like

her hair tightly pulled back so as not to distract from her severe expression as she raises her chin and looks

find myself quite moved by her, curious about this noble-and

that

"Brooklyn."

at the door, his feet set wide apart, hands in his pockets as he frowns at me. "I told you not to come down

close the photo album languidly, holding

I shrug. "You can't expect a girl to stay in

glares at me, and a little smile tugs at my lips as I hear a rumble growing

but I do love to piss

after he utters my name, apparently needing a

my little smile grow. "You're not to come down to the basement. I was clear about

fake little pout, seeing how

my voice light, "I had no idea you'd

QUMS

my hand, glaring at me. Then,

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

reverence.

glad to have a moment to study

worry-perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know, but...

he need to come down here to yell at me for

really have to balance out all of the worry, the constant

need for control that,

to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps an

"Did you love her?"

it. Again, my mouth has run away with me-speaking my thoughts before I consider

his eyes suddenly, that glare focused

answer my question, just tosses the album back onto the shelf as if it doesn't matter to