My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 310

Chapter 310

“Let’s go, baby,” he murmured.

The moment my feet touched the ground. He stepped right into my space, using his broad shoulders and wide chest to block me from the view of the SUVs. He threw one heavy arm over my shoulder, tucking my body tightly against his side. I buried my face into the rough fabric of his jacket, inhaling the scent of his cologne. He walked us forward, his pace was slow, treating his own body like a shield.

As we reached the wooden steps of the diner, the guards standing by the door shifted. They looked at Leone, their eyes dropping to his coat, then up to the hard, dead look on his young face. He gave them a single/sharp nod, the cold greeting of a Made Man. One of the Chicago guards stepped back, reaching out to push the heavy glass door open for us.

The little bell above the door jingled, the sound lonely in the quiet room.

The air inside smelled like old grease, burnt coffee, and dust. The floor was covered in faded black-and-white tiles, many of them cracked and coming loose at the corners. A long counter ran down the middle with vinyl stools, their stuffing popping out like yellow fluff.

And there, in the very last booth by the back window, a woman stood up.

My breath trapped itself in my lungs. My feet glued themselves to the floor tile.

She looked older than the picture I kept hidden under my mattress. Her hair was the same light brown color as mine, but it was clipped back tightly, and there were thin lines around her eyes and mouth. She wore a simple cream-colored sweater, her thin fingers clutching a paper napkin so hard her knuckles were white.

Hazel. My mother.

For a second, she just stared at me. Her eyes traveled from the top of my head, down to my face, and down to my shoes, as if she couldn’t believe I was real. She took a tiny, shaking step forward, leaving the safety of the booth.

“Gianna?”

Leone leaned his head down, his lips brushing the side of my hair, “Go,” he whispered, “I’m right here.”

The heat of Leone’s hand left my waist as I took my first step forward. My sneakers made a soft scraping sound against the dirty white tiles.

I didn’t run, because my mind couldn’t quite understand that the woman kneeling by the booth was really mine.

But with every step I took, the space between us shrunk until I was standing right over her. She looked up, her cheeks wet, her eyes red and puffy.