Surprise Twins for the Mafia Heir: An Enemies To Lovers Dark Romance by Autumn Brookes

Author:Autumn Brookes [Brookes, Autumn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Vinny

Jalisco has the best sunrise. The sky practically looks like a pot of melted candy as the orange meets with yellow. The blue takes over and it makes anyone forget about their worries back home. For me, this has been life. I hide out in a tiny hut with a mild-tempered woman named Marisol. I eat a heap of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My beard has grown out, making me look like the spitting image of my grandfather. Showers are outside with the freshly washed towels Marisol cleans with rocks and cheap cleaner. The smell is immaculate — fresh soap and the openness of farm air. The city is only a few blocks down, but living in the middle of nowhere has its perks, too. The trees and wildlife are different from New York. The sounds of children and goats bleating make me feel like life in New York never happened.

Except that’s the thing. Life in New York did happen. It’s an ugly scar on the family name and I’m shocked my grandfather didn’t immediately have me taken out for embarrassing the bloodline. Thankfully, I severely misunderstood my grandfather’s undying loyalty for me. It took him three days to face me. I was thankful for those three days because Marisol prepped me on his temperament.

“These days all he does is eat and stay inside. He lets the young boys take over the violent stuff,” Marisol told me as she wrapped my tortilla. Eventually, her warnings calmed me. The day I saw him he looked a lot different than I remembered. Years ago, he was a fifty-something man with black and silver hair. His tattoos gleamed on his lean body and women were at his beck and call.

The man I met was different. He had a belly, thinning hair, and more lines around his eyes. I almost wished for the past when I saw him.

“Looks like we both changed,” he said as he stood in the doorway. I expected to keep my composure but I rushed over and hugged the old man. We reacquainted ourselves with beer and stories of my youth. I learned about his many failed relationships and he learned about my near-death run-in with my dad.

“Your dad went the other way,” he said finally. “The Montoya name wasn’t supposed to just be about power. It was also about respect.”

“Well, he’s got half of New York in debt to him,” I muttered. This angered the old man. He threw his empty beer bottle at the wall. The loud smash made me jump.

“This is why I dropped out,” he said after a while. “The new age kids have it all twisted.” It all started to make sense why my dad and grandfather stopped talking. My dad became a disappointment to his father. It’s a classic tale that played out sourly.

“What now? You’re the original Montoya. Can’t you do something?” I asked. He snickered and shook his head like I asked a ridiculous question.

“I’m in Mexico, hijo. What happens in the US is out of my hands,” he answered.

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