Page 11 of Mafia Boss's Baby Surprise

Everyone knows who I am. Or at least they know I’m rich, and that’s the only thing that matters to them. Women have tried pretty much everything to keep my attention, but it has never worked.

Until Aurora.

She genuinely doesn’t know who I am. Nothing at all. There have been a few women who tried to pretend to be clueless about me and who tried to disappear on me in hopes I’d chase after them.

But Aurora is different. The way she rushed out of the room makes me think she’s on the run from something or someone.

She intrigues me. How can there be a woman who looks so innocent and awkwardly sweet, but who also seems like she’s leading a double life? When she moaned under me, it was as if she was a different person. Her shyness was completely gone.

Maybe it was all an act. Another attempt to get me interested. But the initial tension in her shoulders, the blissful look on her face later... It’s impossible that she’s such a good actress.

If I had to guess, I’d say she came to the club with the intention of finding someone to hook up with. It’s weird because she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who does that on a regular basis. I’d even say she was a virgin. But why lie to me about it?

Maybe she’d placed a bet so she’d finally do it. Maybe it was the birthday gift she wanted.

But who the hell would think it’s a good idea to lose her V-card with someone like me? Even if she doesn’t know who I am.

Whatever her reasons were, she’s succeeded in getting me interested. I never think about the woman I fucked after the deed is done, but I’d like to know more about Aurora. I want to know if I’m right about her.

Maybe she’s one of those girls from a strict family who’s never gotten a chance to live her life the way she wants.

If she is, there are so many things I could show her. So many things I could do to her body to make her cry in pleasure and have her begging for more.

But no matter how much I’d love to do that, there’s no point in thinking about it. I’m just wasting time. It’s not like I don’t have better things to do.

Sex exists to relieve tension. It’s a quick break from reality. A way to satisfy my needs. Nothing else.

I’m not relationship material, and I have no business with a girl like Aurora. If she knew who I was, she’d run screaming. Sweet girls like her have no place in my life.

It’s way too risky to get attached to anyone. If my enemies found out I was interested in someone, her life would be in danger. I would lose focus of what I really have to do. My life belongs to the mafia, whether I want it or not, and that’s never going to change.

It’s lonely, but it has to be that way. If I want company, all I have to do is go out and there will be plenty of women lining up for me.

A knock sounds on the door, startling me out of my thoughts. What the fuck? I blink at the computer screen and at all the work I was supposed to get done while I was busy fantasizing about Aurora.

It’s better if I never see her again because I’ll be tempted to spend more time with her. Get to know her. And that’s just unacceptable.

“Come in,” I say.

Theo enters the room. His shoulders are rigid, and his face serious. Something has happened.

“I have some news you’re not going to like,” he says.

Why am I not surprised? Is there ever any news except the bad kind?

“What is it?” I cock my head at him.

“Marcello is meeting with your mother.”

“What the fuck?” My jaw goes slack. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Marya Balakina.”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” I know he’s not talking about my late father’s wife, Elena, because she disappeared after his death. “But why would my birth mother meet with fucking Marcello?”

I’ve never met my birth mother or talked to her. I just know she exists. My father knocked her up while Elena was pregnant too. When Elena found out about the affair, she miscarried, and my father being my father, he made a deal and brought me home for Elena to raise as her own child.

No wonderthatdidn’t work out so well and Elena told me the truth when she was irritated enough by my mere existence. Who could blame her? My father was a sick, twisted bastard.

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