Page 132 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

“Affonso didn’t answer my calls for about a week,”Connor replied. “I did a bit of checking. It was about that time that I foundout he had taken a trip to Vegas.”

“When he came home, he brought his new wife with him,”Calisto finished.

“Yes.”

“And so you began attacking us in little ways, wantingto cause an issue for his betrayal.”

“No,” Connor said quietly.

“I don’t understand. Other than him screwing you onthe marriage deal, I don’t see what other problems he caused you, Connor.”

The Irish boss dug in his pocket, and pulled out aphone. Turning it on, the man swiped his finger over the screen a few times,bringing up a gallery of pictures. Soon enough, he found the one he was lookingfor.

A young, pretty woman with red hair was smilingtiredly at the screen. In her arms, she held a dark-haired, black-eyed babyswaddled in white.

“He was born just a few months ago,” Connor said. “Mydaughter—Ciara—named him Dylan. He’s five months old now.”

Calisto stared at the picture of the baby boy, seeinghis family features reflected back at him, and feeling like he couldn’t breathewith every passing second. Everything that had happened finally started to makesense to Calisto.

“Affonso didn’t know about the baby,” Connor said. “Hewouldn’t answer my calls, or the attempts my men made to talk to him. He evenwent as far as killing my men, which started the back and forth on the streets.He did it first, not me. I only wanted him to know what he had left my daughterwith, and nothing more.

“I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t sit down with meagain,” Connor continued when Calisto stayed quiet. “I didn’t expect anythingfrom him as far as my daughter and the child went. I understood he had marriedanother woman, and his focus was there. I only wanted to let him know that hehad a child, should he want to be involved with the boy. We Irish keep familyvery close, and I assumed the Italians would be no different. Clearly, I waswrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” Calisto admitted, “but Affonso isnot like most Italians.”

Connor shrugged. “I know that now. Nonetheless, themore pressure I put on Affonso, the more he pushed back on me. Before I knewit, there was a mess everywhere and the bodies were piling up. My last hope wasthe night his wife was attacked. I only meant to show how close I could get tohim, and then his wife got in the way.”

“She was going home, actually,” Calisto said.

“I see. I apologize. It never should have happened.”

Calisto willed his sympathy away. He couldn’t affordto feel for the Irish boss in this situation. He still had a famiglia toprotect. Still, as he stared at the picture of the baby, he felt a kindredconnection to yet another one of his siblings.

Affonso just kept making children.

All over the fucking place.

He never cared for them.

“You’re telling me that he still doesn’t know aboutthe boy?” Calisto asked.

Connor shook his head. “No.”

“I assume, guessing by the way you talk fondly of yourdaughter and her child, that you love her a great deal. Am I right?”

“Don’t you love your children?” Connor asked.

Calisto’s heart ached and he said coldly, “I have nochildren.”

“My mistake. I do love my daughter very much.”

“Then your best effort would be spent doing the exactopposite of what you have been doing.”

Connor’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“Protect your daughter and her child from theawfulness of my uncle—make sure he never knows that baby boy exists. If he doesknow, he’ll stop at nothing to have the boy as his and his alone. Make nomistake about it, he would let the baby watch its mother die, if that meantAffonso could raise the boy on his own and by his terms.”

“Why would you say that?”