Page 10 of The Don's Secret Heir

I rifle around for the keys, which are in the console, and when our hands touch and our eyes meet, a shock of something electric runs down my spine.

I swallow hard and look away.

Dario cranks up the car and starts to drive. I lean my head back against the headrest, touching my cheek.

“We’ll put some ice on it,” he says quietly.

“I’m not worried about it.”

“You should be. It isn’t safe to live in your car, Liana.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I snap. “My stepmother and I don’t exactly get along.”

“You never did.”

I go silent. I hate that he knows me. I hate that we spent three unbelievable, sexy months together and that I let him in. I hate that he’s my only option to keep me and my son alive right now.

I hate him.

“You’re safe for tonight.” He glances in the rearview mirror. “You and the kid.”

“Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Yeah well, I don’t want to kill any more of my security guards.”

Of course. Of course it’s not about me.

He just doesn’t want undesirables in his parking lot.

I huff out a breath. I guess that’s not fair. He doesn’t have to help me; he could have just let me leave.

We drive in silence the rest of the way, the only sound my son’s small snores.

When we arrive at his place, I’m not surprised to see that it’s more of a mansion than a house. My father’s house is pretty big, six bedrooms, but this place haswingsit’s so big. But I already knew that his family had money, that his father wasdonwhere my father was only an enforcer.

There are levels to this life, and Dario has always been at the very top. Not that I have it hard or anything. I’m aware that I’ve been spoiled all of my life.

I’ve always been daddy’s little girl, and now that he’s gone...

I don’t know what I am.

I get dizzy when I stand, getting out of the car. Dario makes a distressed noise in the back of his throat when I go to open the back door.

“Stop. I’ll take him inside. You can barely stand.”

“No, I’ve got it,” I say stubbornly but he’s already scooping Sonny up in his arms. Panic rises in me again—what if he sees his nose, his mouth, what if he knows instantly?

But he just puts Sonny’s head on his shoulder. My son doesn’t even stir, just wraps his arms around Dario’s neck and settles into him. I relax slightly when Dario doesn’t react.

He unlocks the door with one hand, holding Sonny with the other, and I trail in behind him, looking around despite myself.

I’ve been to places this nice for meets, for parties, but I’ve certainly never stayed in one. The high ceilings have what appears to be intricate, crystal chandeliers, the lighting warm and inviting.

Dario instantly goes up the stairs and I start to follow, but he barks out my name and I freeze.

“Stay down here. I’m taking him to one of the guest rooms.”

I frown, hesitating, but in the end, I do as he says, feeling kind of out of it. Maybe due to the lack of sleep, the hunger, the concussion, the stress. Take your pick.