I Went to Tell the Mafia Boss I Was Pregnant—And Caught Him with His Secretary

Lorenzo moved through the smoke-filled cottage like a phantom. Two precise shots rang out—BANG! BANG!—followed by the heavy thud of a body collapsing onto the wooden porch!

"Flank the back!" a voice shrieked outside.

Lorenzo kicked open the kitchen door, firing three rapid shots through the window frame. A scream echoed through the dark pine trees, followed by the sound of snow rustling violently.

I crouched behind the thick stone fireplace, holding my stomach, praying with every fiber of my soul for the man who was bleeding for us outside. I realized in that terrifying moment that I didn't want him to die. I didn't want my child to grow up without his father. I loved him—despite the past, despite the pain, I loved Lorenzo DeSantis with everything I had.

A heavy splash of blood hit the stone wall near my head!

Lorenzo stumbled back into the living room, sliding against the wall. He had a deep bullet graze across his left shoulder, blood soaking through his gray sweater, but his right hand was still locked around his weapon like an iron vice.

Outside, the engines of two high-powered SUVs suddenly roared to life!

Headlights swept across the ruined cottage as the remaining attackers panicked, realizing their strike team had been decimated. Tires screeched violently against the ice, and the vehicles sped away into the night.

Silence fell over the cottage once again, broken only by the howling winter wind blowing through the shattered windows.

"Lorenzo!" I cried out, scrambling out from behind the stone hearth, rushing to his side.

He was leaning against the wall, panting heavily, blood dripping from his sleeve onto the wooden floor. But as soon as he saw me, his gray eyes scanned my body with desperate panic.

"Are you hurt? Is the baby okay?" he rasped out, reaching his blood-stained hand toward my belly.

"I'm fine! I'm completely fine!" I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I ripped a strip of cloth from my skirt and pressed it tightly against his bleeding shoulder. "You're hit, Lorenzo!"

"It’s just a graze," he grunted, wincing as I applied pressure. He looked up at me, his gray eyes soft amidst the blood and gunpowder smoke. "I told you... I won't let them touch you."

Suddenly, the headlights of three heavy black vehicles illuminated the driveway outside.

Lorenzo instantly raised his pistol, aiming it at the front door, his body locking into position.

The heavy door was pushed open slowly.

Stepping through the shattered frame was Marcus, flanked by six heavily armed DeSantis security operators wearing tactical gear.

"Boss!" Marcus yelled, dropping his weapon to his side as he saw Lorenzo bleeding against the wall. "We got here as fast as we could! The Moretti hit team was intercepted down the road!"

Lorenzo lowered his gun, letting out a long, ragged sigh of relief.

"Clean this up, Marcus," Lorenzo ordered, his voice returning to its iron command. "And get a medical team to the safehouse in Portland immediately."

Marcus bowed his head. "Understood, Mr. DeSantis."

Lorenzo turned to look at me. He reached out his good arm, pulling me softly against his uninjured chest.

"The cottage isn't safe anymore, Isabella," he whispered into my hair. "The Moretti syndicate found out you were alive through a leak in the federal court system. They thought they could use you to break me."

I held onto his sweater tightly, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart against my cheek.

"Where are we going?" I asked softly.

Lorenzo looked into my eyes, his expression filled with absolute, uncompromising devotion.

"We are going back to New York," Lorenzo said quietly. "To finish this war once and for all. So our child can be born into a world where no one can ever threaten us again."

I looked at the blood on his shoulder, then down at the wooden crib sitting untouched in the corner of the ruined room.