Page 3 of Pregnant By the Mafia Boss

“Far from here.”

I settle into my seat, thinking back to the night of Zoey’s wedding. How did I ever see warmth in Savatore’s eyes?

Zoey was marrying the biggest mafia boss in the world, Antonio Valentino, and I was her maid of honor. Antonio’s brother, Salvatore, snatched me from the reception, and carried me to the lakehouse.

He did unspeakable things to me that rocked my world and blew my mind. Then, just like that, he vanished, leaving me wondering what the hell I did wrong.

I look across at him as he drives.“I haven’t heard a thing from you since Zoey’s wedding. Remember?”

“My brother got married to your best friend. I’m hardly likely to forget.”

“Does anything else stand out about that evening?”

A smirk forms at the corner of his lips. “May have been something. Orsomeone.”

“I haven’t heard one thing from you, Salvatore. Now you rock up out of nowhere, kill a bunch of people, and drag me away from my place of work with no explanation. What’s going on?”

“Well,” he says, “it’s complicated. But the short answer is this—we’re getting married.”

“Who’s getting married?”

He frowns. “You and me,cara mia.”

I’m sure I’m going insane or deaf. “What the hell? You can’t just—”

“Hold on,” he says, looking in the rearview mirror, his expression turning thunderous. “We’ve got company.”

2

Salvatore

Islam my foot down on the gas pedal, and the car shoots forward, accelerating fast.

I glance in the mirror. Still there.Fuck.

Time for plan B.

I glance around me. No one else on the road except us. God bless quiet towns and empty roads.

I take the next left, making it look like I’m racing away as they disappear from sight around the corner behind me.

Then I hit the brakes and skid to a halt.

“What are you doing?” Keira asks.

I don’t answer. I’ll have all the time in the world to explain once this is over. I shove the door open and step out, getting ready for them.

Our pursuers come into view, and I pull out my gun, leveling it at their car.

I fire again and again, the windshield of the chasing car turning into a spiderweb of cracks.

It accelerates wildly, racing past us and slamming straight into a tree at the side of the road.

I run over to it, looking inside, the smell of leaking gasoline getting stronger. Through the window, I see two of them.

The driver’s face is gone—nothing there but a mess of bone and gristle. My aim was good.

The other guy is still alive.

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