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.

opposite of the one that I

remembering that

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

by her, curious about this noble-and

a single word that makes

"Brooklyn."

my eyes to see him standing at the door, his feet set wide apart,

close the photo album

"You can't expect

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

love to piss him

says again, clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently

his cheek, making my little smile grow. "You're not to come

a fake little pout, seeing

here," I say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no

QUMS

two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then, he

"I haven't looked at this in years..." he says quietly,

reverence.

consider him, glad to have a moment to study his tall,

face is lined with years of worry-perhaps more worry than most men his age. He carries a lot, I know,

did he need to come down here to yell at me for looking through

all of the

for control that, indeed, results

eyes flick back to the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps

"Did you love her?"

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

eyes suddenly, that glare focused

the album back onto the