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 chosen for

was an intentional choice, remembering that none of the dresses

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

about this noble-and am I imagining it? A bit

single word that makes me jump

"Brooklyn."

the door, his feet set wide apart,

close the photo album languidly,

wouldn't take me to the stable. I got bored." I shrug. "You

tugs at my lips as I hear a rumble growing in his

but I do love to piss him

clenching his mouth closed after he utters my name, apparently needing a minute to

little smile grow. "You're not

him a fake little pout, seeing how far I can

it's so fun down here," I say, turning my attention back to the wedding album. "For instance," I say, my voice light, "I had no idea you'd consent to get

QUMS

snatches the photo album out of my hand, glaring

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

reverence.

a moment to study his tall, muscular form while

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

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

all of the worry, the constant need for control, that consumes

and need for control that, indeed, results in his

flick back to the photo album,

"Did you love her?"

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

suddenly, that glare

question, just tosses the album back onto the shelf as if