Page 51 of Mafia Pregnancy

“Who sent you?” Radmir’s voice is deadly calm as he applies a slight pressure.

The intruder says nothing, just glares with defiant eyes above the ski mask. Radmir adjusts his grip, applying more pressure that makes the man gasp.

“I asked you a question, and I’m not fucking around,” he growls.

As they struggle, the mask shifts slightly, and I catch a glimpse of a faded tattoo on the man’s neck of some kind of animal. Radmir sees it too, and something changes in his expression. Recognition, followed by cold fury. “Luca’s mark,” he says quietly, almost to himself.

The confirmation seems to fuel his anger. With swift brutality, he strikes a nerve cluster at the base of the intruder’s neck. The man’s eyes roll back, and he crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Radmir straightens, breathing hard, and turns to me. I’m pressed against the wall, shaking with fear and adrenaline, trying to process what just happened. “Are you hurt?” His voice is gentle now, completely different from the deadly tone he used with the intruder.

I shake my head, not trusting my voice. He approaches slowly, like he’s afraid I might bolt, and reaches out to touch my face with careful fingers.

“You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you.”

The kindness in his voice shatters something inside me, and tears start flowing before I can stop them. All the fear, the adrenaline, and the terrifying helplessness of being grabbed by a stranger comes pouring out in harsh sobs that shake my entire body.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me with protective strength. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Footsteps pound down the hallway, and Andrei appears in the doorway with two guards behind him. They take in the scene and immediately shift into crisis management mode. “Sweep the grounds,” Andrei orders the guards. “Check for additional breaches and secure all entry points.”

He approaches the unconscious man and pulls off the ski mask, revealing a face I don’t recognize but that clearly means something to Radmir and Andrei. “Marcus Volkov,” he says grimly. “One of Luca’s enforcers.”

“How did he get past security?” Radmir’s arms tighten around me as he speaks.

“I’ll make an educated guess that doesn’t involve much guessing,” says Andrei. “The earlier glitch in our security system wasn’t an accident. He used it to gain entry to the grounds and then found a place to hide until the storm provided enough cover to let him move out of wherever he’d hidden, waiting for the right moment.” He examines the broken window, noting the tool marks around the frame. “This was planned, not opportunistic.”

“He was going for me,” Radmir says quietly. “Danielle was just an easy entry point.”

“He might not have even known she was in here,” says Andrei, giving me a surprisingly soothing look.

The realization I was targeted as a way to get to Radmir should be reassuring, but it’s not. It means this violence and danger is part of his world, just as I suspected, and part of loving him would mean accepting it, along with the risk it would bring to our kids.

“I’m sorry,” Radmir murmurs against my hair. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. No one will ever touch you again. I promise.”

The promise is fierce, absolute, and completely impossible to keep. Still, with his arms around me and the intruder neutralized, I want to believe it in this moment.

“What do we do with him?” Andrei gestures toward the unconscious man.

“Question him when he wakes up. Find out what Luca’s planning and how many others might be involved.” Radmir’s voice carries the cold authority of someone used to handling violentsituations. “Then make sure he delivers a message back to his boss.”

“What kind of message?”

“Make it clear attacking people under my protection has consequences.”

The casual way they discuss violence should frighten me, but instead, I find it oddly comforting. These men know how to handle threats. They know how to protect what matters to them. The question is whether I matter enough to Radmir to justify the risks that come with being under his protection.

“Can you walk?” he asks me gently.

I nod, though my legs feel unsteady. He keeps one arm around me as we leave the parlor, letting Andrei and the guards handle the cleanup. The hallway feels different now, almost like a fortress under siege. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe and private, where you can recover from this.”

He leads me through corridors I’ve never seen before, past rooms that are clearly off-limits to household staff of my standing. Everything here speaks to wealth and power, but also to careful security, with heavy doors and reinforced walls designed to keep threats out and valuables safe.

We reach a set of double doors he opens with a key card, revealing a bedroom that takes my breath away. The space is enormous, with panoramic windows that would normally offer stunning ocean views but now show only the storm raging outside. The furniture is masculine and expensive, in dark wood and rich fabrics that speak to sophisticated taste.

“This is your room,” I say, stating the obvious.

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