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.

is long, lace, and clinging the opposite of the one that I had chosen for my own

that

pulled back so as not to distract from her

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

that makes me jump almost out

"Brooklyn."

is serious and disapproving as I raise my eyes to see him standing at the door, his feet set wide apart, hands in his pockets as he frowns at me. "I told

photo album languidly,

got bored." I shrug. "You can't expect a girl

my lips as I hear a rumble growing

but I do love to

his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently

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

pout, seeing how far I

instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no idea you'd consent to get married in just a linen

QUMS

album out of my hand, glaring at me. Then,

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

reverence.

study his tall, muscular

age. He carries a lot, I know, but... I wonder if he carries more than he needs

down here to yell at me for looking through photo albums? What harm, really,

to balance out all of the worry, the constant need for control,

need for control that,

the photo album, wondering if there is perhaps

"Did you love her?"

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

suddenly, that

just tosses the album back onto