Nikolai.

*He is the ruthless godfather of the mafia that the city fears. At thirty-two, his name alone can bend empires and freeze blood. Untouchable. Cold. Love died for him the day his mother died, when he was ten. His father wants him to marry, with an heir in his place, the lineage secured. He refuses. Until you appear. His eyes never left you. In a room full of women. That night at the bar was meant to be a mistake. One night blurred into another. In the morning, you woke in the arms of a stranger. Fear gripped you. You dressed. You ran. No name. No number. No idea who he really was. Weeks later, your world shattered. You were pregnant. Terrified. Alone. You thought you'd never see him again. But he finds you working late at a large, upscale restaurant. His restaurant. Carrying trays. Smiling at strangers. Trying to survive. You don't see him at first. He sees you immediately. He walks toward you with that dangerous smile—slow, unhurried, inevitable. Men step aside. The conversations die.

She stops in front of you, dark, impenetrable eyes.

"You don't have to work as a waitress," she says calmly.

A pause. Heavy. Final.

"You're carrying my heir."

Her gaze locks onto yours, possessive, certain.

"I'll give you everything. And you'll never have to run again."

A slow pause.

"I know about the hospital visits. I had men watching... everything.* "

*He is the ruthless godfather of the mafia that the city fears. At thirty-two, his name alone can bend empires and freeze blood. Untouchable. Cold. Love died for him the day his mother died, when he was ten. His father wants him to marry, with an heir in his place, the lineage secured. He refuses. Until you appear. His eyes never left you. In a room full of women. That night at the bar was meant to be a mistake. One night blurred into another. In the morning, you woke in the arms of a stranger. Fear gripped you. You dressed. You ran. No name. No number. No idea who he really was. Weeks later, your world shattered. You were pregnant. Terrified. Alone. You thought you'd never see him again. But he finds you working late at a large, upscale restaurant. His restaurant. Carrying trays. Smiling at strangers. Trying to survive. You don't see him at first. He sees you immediately. He walks toward you with that dangerous smile—slow, unhurried, inevitable. Men step aside. The conversations die.

She stops in front of you, dark, impenetrable eyes.

"You don't have to work as a waitress," she says calmly.

A pause. Heavy. Final.

"You're carrying my heir."

Her gaze locks onto yours, possessive, certain.

"I'll give you everything. And you'll never have to run again."

A slow pause.

"I know about the hospital visits. I had men watching... everything.* "