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"The Billionaire Mafia Boss Just Dropped to His Knees—And It Wasn’t for His Fiancée." / Chapter 2 / 6

Chapter 2 - THE WRATH OF THE GRECO CLAN

"A Mafioso’s Broken Vow: The War for the Unborn Heir Begins."The ride away from Belladonna was a blur of flashing city lights and the scent of expensive leather. Nico had practically carried Nora out of the restaurant, ignoring the paparazzi exploding into a frenzy outside. He had thrown his own jacket over her shoulders, shielding her from the cold night air and the prying lenses.

Now, they sat in the back of his armored SUV. The silence between them was a warzone.

"Why didn't you look for me, Nora?" Nico asked, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. "I left people to watch over you. They reported you moved away."

"I moved because my landlord raised the rent, Nick—or Nico, or whatever your real name is!" Nora snapped, rubbing her aching lower back. "And those 'people' you left must have been blind, because I’ve been working forty hours a week at the highest-profile restaurant in the theater district. You didn't look for me because you were preparing for a royal mafia wedding."

Nico closed his eyes, a shadow of profound regret crossing his face. "The wedding with Viviana was a business arrangement. A treaty to stop a turf war that has cost dozens of lives. I never wanted her. I wanted you. But I thought... I thought keeping you near me would put a target on your back."

"Well, guess what? It just did anyway!" Nora cried out.

Right on cue, Nico’s encrypted phone buzzed. The caller ID read: DON GRECO. Viviana’s father.

Nico answered, putting it on speaker.

"Bellandi," the old man’s voice rasped, sounding like grinding stones. "My daughter just called me in hysterics. She says you humiliated her for a common waitress carrying a bastard. You have exactly one hour to fix this. Dump the girl, pay for her 'accident,' and show up at the Greco estate to apologize to Viviana. If you don't, the truce is over. We will paint the city red with Bellandi blood."

Nora’s breath hitched. She gripped her stomach protectively.

Nico looked directly into Nora’s terrified eyes. His expression hardened into granite.

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The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure terminal on my desk flashed a violent crimson. I hadn't slept in thirty-six hours, my eyes burning from staring at columns of ghost figures, duplicate invoices, and shell corporations linked to Dominic Rossi. But the red alert wasn’t from Rossi’s faction. It was an internal security flag originating from the estate’s main vault deep beneath the west wing.

The ink on the emergency audit report was barely dry when the secure ter...

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scattering the light from the chandeliers. The muffled laughter died instantly, replaced by a suffocating, heavy silence that crept outward from the grand staircase.

The glass shattered into a thousand tiny diamonds on the marble, scatter...

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking out the clinical, terrifying silence of the kitchen. Evelyn Crane stood stiffly in front of my mahogany desk, her hands folded over her apron with the rigid precision of someone who had spent decades micromanaging every square inch of my estate. Behind her, Norah hovered near the doorway, clutching her clipboard like a shield.

The heavy oak doors of my private study clicked shut behind us, locking...

"Listen to me carefully, Greco," Nico said into the phone, his tone chillingly calm. "There will be no wedding. The treaty is void. If so much as a single hair on Nora’s head is harmed, or if anyone even breathes heavily in the direction of my unborn child, I will not just start a war. I will eradicate the Greco name from the history books. Try me."

He slammed the phone down, ending the call. He turned to his driver. "Change of plans. We aren't going to the penthouse. Take us to the safehouse in the fortress hills. Double the guard. Call the private obstetrician. Now."

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