Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father (Brooklyn and Aden) novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62
Aden

We spend the rest of the day at the stables. I leave her alone, going around to visit the other horses under my care, checking in with the grooms and the manager to ensure that everything is running smoothly.

When the trainer arrives, I point him in Brooklyn’s direction.

Half an hour later, I’m pleased to see Brooklyn leading her saddled horse to the riding area.

I lean against the door of the barn, watching at a distance as the trainer runs Brooklyn through the basics of riding, showing her the horse’s gaits on a long lead while Brooklyn is still on the ground.

It’s a special thrill, though, when I watch Brooklyn put on her velvet helmet and lead her horse over to the mounting block.

The joy on her face when she sits astride Heathcliff’s back for the first time—a little chill runs down my spine, and a strange sensation, a feeling comes over me.

I realize, uncomfortably, that I’m happy.

Last night, in the car, seeing Brooklyn shake like that—the shock, the trauma in every muscle—it was one of the worst feelings of my life.

I frown, thinking of it now, of my extreme reaction to Brooklyn’s physical danger.

I’m the Mafia King, for heaven’s sake, and furthermore, I have Alpha blood.

I lead powerful humans and wolves…I shouldn’t be this torn up over a little girl.

It’s not like I haven’t lost people to this business before, haven’t put loved ones on the line on an almost-daily basis.

So what is it about this girl that makes me absolutely terrified at the thought of her in danger, or in pain?

I grit my teeth, uncomfortable with the answer to this question.

I know that I want her on a physical level. God, every day I’m confronted with that horrible fact.

But this other feeling, this…protectiveness.

I shake my head, unwilling to delve into whatever it means just yet.

Instead, I stand up straight from his spot at the stall door and walk towards the riding ring.

The lesson is coming to a close, the instructor talking eagerly to Brooklyn, who smiles down at him from her place on the gelding’s back.

When I lean against the ring’s fence, the trainer gives me an assuring nod.

“She’s a natural!” he says, resting a comfortable hand on Brooklyn’s knee.

I glare at his touch, and the trainer, grimacing a little, quickly removes his hand. Brooklyn doesn’t seem to notice.

“See!” she says to me, instead. “I told you I had a natural seat!”

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute,” I say simply, giving the trainer a stern look.