Page 73 of The Don's Secret Heir

“It’s not the first one you’ve had since we moved in,” she points out, and she’s right.

I just couldn’t have her in the house while I was plotting to take down her best friend.

“I’m fine.”

She frowns. “No, you’re not. I know you, Dario. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I said I’m fine,” I snap. “And you don’t have to baby me, I can get up to bed on my own.”

Liana balks at that, holding up her hands in defense, and I feel like an asshole.

“Sorry. Just... rough night.”

She nods slowly. “Understood. I won’t ask any more questions.”

“Li, I didn’t?—”

But she’s already stalking up the stairs. I groan when I hear her bedroom door slam shut.

Great.Now she’s mad at me.

I don’t see her again until after dinner. We either missed each other, or she and Sonny ate in his room, as they often do.

Especially when she's mad at me.

I’m moping around the house, nursing a hangover, but dinner makes me feel better. I’m leaving the kitchen as she enters and we freeze as we face each other.

“Just needed to get Sonny a snack,” she says quickly, brushing past me.

I grab her wrist. “Li. Don’t be mad at me.”

She wrenches away from me. “Who says I’m mad?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I drawl. “Maybe how your brows are drawn together. How your mouth turns down at the corners. Maybe I’m psychic.”

She snorts as I repeat her words back to her.

“I’m notmad. I just... I feel like I’m getting more out of this than you are,” she says, sounding earnest, and my eyes shoot to hers.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I get a place to stay, room and board, free food, anything I want. And you... what are you getting out of this? Why are you doing this?”

“I told you, the tax?—”

“Any tax break you might be able to get would be negligible.”

I open my mouth to speak but then shut it again.

“So what is it, Dario? Why are you helping me?”

Because I’m still so in love with you I can’t fucking see straight. Because I hate you and I love you and I can’t stand the idea of anyone else having you.

Because you’ve been mine from the moment I saw you.

“I don’t know,” I say finally, flatly, and Sonny comes jogging down the stairs, a frown on his face.

“Don’t fight,” he says in a small, strained voice, looking up at us with glaring gray eyes. He looks so much like his mother that it makes my heart skip a beat.