Page 2 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

At least the Bratva made legitimate plays for the strip clubs, prostitution rings, and general money laundering arms of the business.

Albanians? They come, they see, they conquer. You’d think it’s Italian’s who’d take a page out of Caesar’s playbook. Those bastards? They want it all.

Alliances between families is nothing new. That’s how things worked on the Old Continent.

But it all used to be within the family, so to speak. Even today, you’d never hear aBorgatareaching out to the Bratva.

Bianca Bonucci represents the hope of the entire syndicate of the New York region. The Albanians want our ports, but we can’t let them have those. Introduced into our system bit by bit, yes. Then we’d have time to cover our asses and level the playing field.

An heir of the Abrashi family marrying into a respectedBorgata, a Mafia family? It builds a tie, one the Albanians will have to respect. They’ll have to stop blindsiding us with their devilish takeovers. There’s only so much violence anyone can take, even us.

We need this alliance, period. So this makes Bianca totally off-limits. Best these guys reckon with this already.

I clap my hands to regain their attention.

“Come on, guys. I know for a fact Hana has placed all of you at tables with single, eligible ladies. Not you, Angelo.”

He’d started to protest, and with good reason. His wife, Prema, is a brilliant surgeon and a true psychopath. On a good day, she could eviscerate a woman who looked a little too long at her husband. Good thing she’s been called in for emergency surgery today after a ten-car pileup on the road to Short Hills in New Jersey.

Spirits restored, the men start to jest again as a new vodka bottle gets passed around. I don’t refuse a sip this time when it comes my way. Mattia declines.

“Damn fuckers. I knew they’d be onto her like birds of prey.”

I laugh. “Come on. It’s Bianca we’re talking about. She can hold her own.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope so.”

Something in the way he says this rankles me, but I can’t give it any attention as a knock comes at the door.

My hand freezes on the door knob at the sight the receding panelreveals.

A woman, tall and graceful, with an hourglass figure showcased to perfection in the iris-blue sheath she’s wearing. Her waist seems tiny, hips lush, and her chest…Dio santo, have mercy. Bountiful globes of dusky olive flesh encased in the crisp edges of the strapless bodice.

Her thick dark hair is piled on top of her head, one long ringlet dipping onto her left shoulder, flirting with the pronounced lines of her collar bone. Diamonds sparkle at her earlobes, which draw my attention to her face.

She has strong features, but they merge into a magnificent whole. Slashing cheekbones, a pointed chin, the line of her straight nose prominent, forehead wide.

And her eyes. They’re dark, glimmering against the sparkly eyeshadow and the heavy, full lashes.

A man can get lost in those eyes, and he wouldn’t mind never finding his way to the surface again.

“Ah, so youarehere,” she says with a small laugh.

I blink. Do we know each other? It sounds like she knows me, because she’s looking right at me.

I would definitely remember such a ravishing creature. Most importantly, I would definitely have made it my job to bring her to my bed so I can assuage all my fantasies upon her delectable body and that sinful, full mouth with the pronounced cupid’s bow.

Where have you been all my life?

“Hana’s gonna kill you if you don’t look perfect today,” she’s saying as she beelines to Mattia. “What have you done with your hair?”

“Argh, get your grabby fingers off me, Bianca.”

Everything inside me freezes as I stand there, stunned.

This is Bianca?

Granted, I haven’t seen her in seven years. She was sixteen, I was twenty-one. But adults don’t become a whole other, completely different version of who they were as teenagers, do they?

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