Page 6 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
I gritted my teeth, forcing one foot in front of the other.
Keep moving.
But my body wasn’t cooperating. My thighs burned, my pulse roared in my ears, and heat still lingered where his hands had been, like his touch had branded itself onto my skin.
I stumbled.
A stranger’s shoulder clipped mine, nearly knocking me off balance. My fingers grasped at empty air before I caught myself, barely managing to stay upright.
I needed to get out.
Now.
I forced my way through the crowd. Every step away from him should have felt like freedom. Like escape.
But all I felt was the weight of him still on me.
I had fucked up. Badly.
And now, three months later—the proof of that mistake was staring at me in the form of two pink lines.
“Shit.”
The pregnancy test wobbled on the sink as I grabbed it again as if looking at it for the tenth time would somehow change the result.
It didn’t.
What had I done? And, more importantly, how the fuck was I going to fix this?
But that wasn’t even the worst part of that night. The worst part came minutes after I had fled from that room, from him, still dizzy from his touch. My phone had buzzed in my purse, and when I answered, my brother’s voice nearly shattered my eardrum.
“Maria, Dad’s been shot.”
The world stopped. Air refused to enter my lungs.
“Shot?”
“Shot! By Shade!”
My stomach dropped. My legs refused to move. It couldn’t be. Shade? As in the man my father had been feuding with? As in the ghost of New York’s underworld? As in the man I had just spent the last hour tangled up with, still feeling his heat, his hands, his lips? He was the biggest kingpin in New York: weapons, drugs, and running the underground mafia world. That was Shade.
No. Impossible. I had just seen him. Touched him. There was no way he had pulled the trigger while simultaneously ruining my self-control in a darkened room.
The person who had called him said “The Russos,” there was no mistaking that. He was the one I had shared a bed with that night.
Yet, my father’s blood soaked the floors of his own estate, shot by someone who had worn Shade’s mask while doing it. I never voiced my doubts. What would I say? That while my father was being gunned down, I was busy letting my guard down for the very man responsible? That I wasn’t even sure I had spent the night with the real Shade? No. That secret had to die with me.
A week later, my father died, taking his iron will and archaic beliefs with him. But before he went, he had one last trick up his sleeve. I loved my dad, but he had always found a way to fuck up my life in the worst possible way.
The lawyer read the will with a grim expression, pausing to glance at my brother and me before continuing.
“For Luca Russo to inherit his share of the Russo estate, he must first uncover the true identity of Shade and avenge his father’s death.”
Silence. Thick, suffocating silence. Luca’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched against the armrest of the chair.
“For Maria Russo to inherit her share, she must get married.”
I choked. “Excuse me?”
