His Mafia Prince

(SASHA)

When we get into the study, we find Father behind his desk busy as usual. He seems to grow weaker with each passing day, I dread the day when he won’t be here anymore. Father has been my guiding force and I have leaned on him all my life. I hope I will be ready to lead the men when that time finally comes.

Father is frail, but even then, he gets up to greet us. He shakes Tyler’s hand. "Come, let’s sit near the fire. It’s more comfortable." He says while moving slowly to the chair closest to the fireplace. It isn’t as cold; however, Father seems to be always shivering, and he doesn’t want Tyler to see him trembling. The last thing Father will do is show his weakness, even on his deathbed.

Tyler follows him but looks confused. He seems to have no idea where to sit, and when I notice that, I put my hand on the small of his back to guide him. I can feel his muscles tighten. His scent wafts up my nose and for a minute, the scent and the heat of his body distract me.

But I know better than to be distracted. This isn’t the time or the place, so I shake off the annoying haze and guide him to a chair next to me and across from Father. We sit, waiting for Father to begin the conversation.

Father studies Tyler thoughtfully for a few suspended seconds then says bluntly. "You’re with child."

"Yes," Tyler says, a shade of pink flushing his cheeks. "Will that be an issue?"

Father turns to me. "Will it be a problem, son?"

"No, I don’t think so. He’s not keeping it."

A frown works up on Father’s face. "What, why are you not keeping it?"

Tyler shifts uncomfortably and then glances at me warily. "I’d rather not say."