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

an intentional choice, remembering that none of the dresses

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

moved by her, curious about this noble-and am I

by a single word that makes

"Brooklyn."

his feet set wide apart, hands in his pockets as

photo album

shrug. "You

a little smile tugs at my

do love to piss

utters my name, apparently needing a minute to rein in his

cheek, making my little smile grow.

a fake little pout, seeing how far I can

say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had

QUMS

two steps forward and snatches the photo album out of my hand,

both silent for a moment while he stares at the album. "I haven't looked at this

reverence.

have a moment to study his tall, muscular form while

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

yell at me for looking through photo albums? What harm,

to balance out all of the worry,

that, indeed, results

the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps an answer

"Did you love her?"

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

eyes suddenly, that glare

the album back onto the shelf as