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.

the opposite of the one that I had

was an intentional choice, remembering that none

to her face again, her hair tightly pulled back so as not to distract from her severe

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

are interrupted by a single word that

"Brooklyn."

my eyes to see him standing at the door, his feet set wide apart, hands in his pockets as he frowns at

photo album

got bored." I shrug. "You can't

little smile tugs at my lips as I hear a

but I do love to piss

he utters my name, apparently needing

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

him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can push

the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no idea you'd consent to get married in just a linen shirt Very bohemian of

QUMS

out of my hand, glaring at me.

while he stares at the album. "I haven't looked at this in years..." he says quietly, surprised into a moment

reverence.

moment to study his tall, muscular

most men his age. He carries a lot, I know, but... I wonder if

instance, did he need to come down here to yell at me

to balance out all of

need for control that, indeed, results

to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps

"Did you love her?"

ask it. Again, my mouth has run away with me-speaking

his eyes suddenly, that glare focused on

answer my question, just tosses the album back onto