Page 21 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“That is news.” I smile, digesting the information. Now I understand why I have this pounding head. Rubbing a finger back and forth across my temple, I open the door wider, inviting Mark in.

The little minx must have added sleeping pills into my coffee from last night.

Mark joins me inside, his gun in hand as we stalk through her kitchen, back to the bedroom, gulping down the bitter pill that’s ultimately been triggered by the slip of my dick. I signal with my finger that Fiona is in the bedroom, giving him the shh symbol and treading lightly.

Fiona Anderson is Luca Marino’s hidden daughter. Son of a bitch.Smirking, I think about my blood pressure rising because Fiona Anderson has tunneled her way under my flesh,and now I can’t erase the traitorous minx from inside my memory banks. Nor do I want to.

I recall her evocative, sensual scent, and how only hours ago, I had his daughter moaning my name. I’d wanted to ravage her last night, and fuck her brains out, but something stopped me. Instead, I made love to her, and as a proud Bratva boss, I don’t make love to women. I fuck them senseless and leave.

Not with Fiona.Her demure naivety captivated me, and I loved the way her brunette locks spread out over her bed as her back arched in orgasm, her full breasts on display. Fuck, I want her again, especially since I know she’s in possession of the Omerta files, and I’ve taken her virginity. She’s the perfect woman for a man like me. What I wouldn’t do to touch her ivory skin… and to wring her neck, all at once.

“I wish I could stay here forever with you in your arms.”Her velvety lies were almost believable. She’d been so fucking convincing last night. She knew who I was all along. Her big innocent emerald eyes were just like those of a deer, even if they were green. Her effervescent laughter, and pearly straight teeth shone, and her hot hourglass body pushed against mine.

As we enter the bedroom, I shift my eyes over the bed, pointing to the washroom as Mark bursts through the door with his gun cocked only to find an empty bathroom. The only telltale sign of Fiona’s presence being a fogged-up bathroom mirror.

Mark looks at me in it. “We’ve been duped.”

Nodding in admiration, I pick up her face wash, tossing it into the bath. There’s no point looking anywhere else. I can’t feel her presence anymore. She’s long gone.

A sly grin lifts the corners of my mouth, a million and one thoughts shooting through my brain. I can’t wait to seeher again. Ah, I’ve met my match. “Hmm, she is indeed Luca’s daughter.”

Internally, I applaud her cunning. I thought she was an innocent sheep, but really she’s a seductive vixen. My head is slowly clearing, and as I return to the bedroom, I pull on my shirt, looking at Mark.

“We are going to find her.”

Oh Fiona, my sweet little virgin, what a dangerous web you’re weaving my dear….

Chapter Thirteen - Fiona

The lights read green, but Chicago’s cars are stuck—not moving on the I-90. “Come on, come on, come on,” I grit out under my breath, banging the steering wheel as I will the stagnant traffic to move forward. I send a quick text message to my friends, telling them not to come. I don’t want them to be in danger from the Bratva. The morning sun beats down through my window, pounding on the side of my face, and I’ve got no idea what my next move should be. It’s scary to think how I gave Ruslan the wrong number and he still found me so quickly. And my logic is, if he found me that quickly, then he’s already figured out that I’m Luca’s daughter.

The only thing I’m aiming for is to leave Chicago,and fast.

My leg bounces with anxiety as I blow out an exasperated breath. Maybe I can head towards Ohio, and back to the sanctuary of my mother’s house—but then again, if I do, I’m puttingherlife in jeopardy. I look out at the haze of smoldering traffic smoke, wondering if I’ve got enough courage to pull off a getaway from a Russian mobster.

So, what’s your next move, Fiona?Lost in the battle of my own thoughts, a horn beeps loudly behind me as I run a red light smashing my foot down to the accelerator in panic. Wincing, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, narrowly missing the oncoming Jeep, swinging the wheel hard to the right to avoid hitting it. “Shit!” I spit out, saliva hitting my dash, and I feel as if my heart’s pressing against my rib cage.

My game plan is to make it to the I-290 and head straight in the direction of Aurora, but even as the traffic starts to move, I don’t like my chances. Ruslan’s got too many tools at his disposal not to catch me.

“Fuck!” I thump the wheel, hoping I’m not going to have to keep crawling through this basic Chicago traffic, but as I check my rearview mirror, the clench in my stomach loosens. I’m grateful it’s moving at a flowing speed—finally.

Bumpingover the ridge of the upcoming curb with panic, I straighten up as the faint sound of a text message forces me on high alert. Sweat prickles on my skin as the traffic opens up and I pick up my phone. On the screen I see a text message from an unknown number.

I read it, a chill firing through my bones.Run from me, Red October. I like the challenge. I’m going to hunt you down.

Shit.I turn off my location, simultaneously keeping an eye on the traffic as I glide in and out of the lanes, turning left onto I-290. I put two and two together, figuring the sleeping pills have worn off, and either he’s up and surprised I’ve left, or he’s found out who I really am.

Steadying my resolve, I reason he won’t be able to catch up with me. As I hit the road, driving past Columbus Park, my stomach steps in, growling loudly back at me.I have to eat. I’m carrying a baby now. Ruslan’s baby.Ruslan’s sleek, tall body and haunting eyes fill my head as I gulp hard, doing my best to shut out how good it felt for him to touch me.

There’s one clear-cut decision I’ve already made, and that’s to keep the baby. Checking the mirror, I look up to see if he’s following me, but there aren’t any firm signs of me being tailed.

Thinking I’m safe, I make a pit stop near Forest Park, stopping at a diner. Taking a deep breath, I force myself out of the car.All you need to do is get a sandwich and then keep driving. When you get far enough away, you can call your mother.

I park, killing the engine, and darting into the busy diner, thankful there’s not many people dining in. I let my eyes skim over the patrons. Two truckers in the back booth. One elderly man reading the paper. A family eating breakfast, and a friendly face greeting me.

“Good morning. What can I getcha this morning?” the young server asks.

“Hi, I-I wanted to see if you have any breakfast muffins or a sandwich?” I ask her, turning back quickly to glance out of the diner window, watching to see if Ruslan’s on my tail, but all I see is the whir of passing traffic.

---