Jordyn thought she had a grasp on the many masks he wore daily, from father, to business man, to husband, to mafia crime boss. Thought being the key word, because frankly, she didn’t understand a damned thing about the man. His switches flipped on and off in such fast bursts it was hard to keep track of his moods. Easy laughter between him and his three sons could quickly turn into tense, uncomfortable stares and short apologies before anyone had blinked. Antony rarely ever had to say a word to earn those apologies, either. It was also clear he adored and loved his sons. For Jordyn, it was a complex, confusing mix of relationships she tried not to pick apart or scratch too deep into. So, when she walked out of the bedroom she shared with Lucian after her morning shower—fully dressed and ready for the day—she might have instinctively dropped back another step or two at the sight of Antony at the kitchen table.
