Page 10 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“Let’s not.It was a dare, and you know it was fun and stuff, but now it’s over. He would have never called me anyway.”

“You’re not doing a good job of convincing me.Myhypothetical is… if he’s rich like you say and he asked for you to put the number in his phone, then he wanted to take you out.”

“I have so much going on with work, with dragon lady, Alex—I can’t,” I explain.“Nothing good comes from dealing with bad boys. Both you and Sophia have dealt with your fair share of bad breakups.”

“Ugh.Sure, but don’t let that stop you. Forget about us. We’re only young anyway. You’re twenty-one! We’ve got plenty of time to make fun bad mistakes with men. Now how is he going to call you?”

“Rachael, give up already!I’m not getting together with the guy, but I’ve finally been relieved of my virginity, so hey, there’s something. I’m not meeting anyone else I like. Next time it’s your shout for drinks too, because I so won this bet by a mile.”

Falling into laughter, I look at my watch noting it’s time for me to get back to work. “Pfaff!I mean, I would shout you anyway. Your dare did shit all over mine and Sophia’s— but God, he was a dangerous kind of hot! He could have almost been a muse for a painting.” Rachael fans herself, pretending to fall off her seat. If nothing, my free-spirited friend is always entertaining.

“What a painting that would be,” I murmur, slightly amused by how emotionally invested Rachael is.

“Exactly, and that’sallof the problem.

“What problem? I don’t see how having a little fun with the dangerously hot man is an issue.”

“Alright.We can agree to disagree on this situation.”

Finishing my sandwich, I wash it down with soda, my phone ringing from inside my purse, prompting an eye roll. “Gawd, this better not be a call from work, otherwise, I’m going to throw up. I knew it was too good to be true,” I groan, but Rachael raises a curious eyebrow in response.

By the time I fish my phone out of my bag, the caller ID reads as an unknown number.Who can it be?A little flitter rumbles around in my belly, anticipating if it’s Ruslan.

“I will hunt you down.”Ruslan’s words ring in my ears as I frown down at the phone with seconds to spare in answering.

“Ooo!Who is it? Do you think it’s Ruslan?Answer!Didn’t you tell me he threatened to find you?”

Nodding a yes in her direction, I let it ring a few more times, but she eggs me on, nudging my elbow. Eventually, I pick up to a rough masculine voice on the other end of the line.

“Meet me at Clementine’s off W. 45th Street in Sleepy Hollow tomorrow evening at six.” Before I have time to reply, the gruff, yet familiar caller hangs up.

Shit. Shit. Shit.It’s him.The flitter of possible excitement that existed in my stomach switches to a turbulent whirlpool of emotions, but I don’t have the space to process them.

“Who was it? Was it him?Thatguy?” she asks excitedly.

“No. I didn’t even answer. It was a wrong number that’s all.” Producing a fake smile, a knife cuts through my stomach as I tell her the bold-faced lie. I knowexactlywho the caller is.

Every time I think of my father, packed layers of resentment, latent rage and the icing on the cake of heartbreakand abandonment lead me into despair, so I do my best to forget him—just like he’s forgotten me.

I told my friends I didn’t know the man, and that I’venevermet him, but Luca Marino— the Don of one of the most cold-blooded mobs in Chicago is not a man you relegate to the trenches—his reputation precedes him.

I wish he wasn’t my biological father, but his blood runs through my veins, and it sends chills barreling down my spine after the call.

What could he possibly want now?

Chapter Six - Ruslan

Death and imminent power are the heavy weights on the scales as the clock ticks over to midnight in Chicago, and we make our way to Kian’s hideout on Chicago’s outskirts.

“Wait for my command when we arrive. We don’t know what situation we’re walking into when we get there. It could be crawling with booby traps and be a complete setup.”

“He’s a hacker. He’s not Bratva. He probably doesn’t have much set up. A lot of these hackers are fucking stupid,” Andrei proposes, but that’s why I’m the Don. I take no chances with these matters.

My dead eyes bore into his. “You know that’s not true. We’ve been caught out before on a job. Don’t you remember Boston?”

Andrei sighs in response. “Yes. Of course, I remember the warehouse of horrors. How could I forget.” We were duped by low-level scum Irish gang members for a gun exchange, and they thought it funny to replace our stock with garbage toy pistols. We lost a cool million on the deal but were repaid in full by killing all their gang members and their families, picking them off one by one. Yes, it was an example-setter for them, but a nuisance for me. We could have been doing other things.

“Mark, I want you to take the back of the house, Andrei, you stay with me, and we’ll hit the front with two men. The rest of you will spread out and cover me and Andrei,” I direct as we drive to Little Village, which is known as the Mexican quarter of Chicago with its brightly colored houses and street art.

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