The Mafia Boss Declared His Mistress the Lady of the House—His Pregnant Wife Left Her Keys

Before Alessandro’s shadow fell across the rusted rim of the dumpster, a sudden, blinding flash of amber light cut through the blizzard.

An old, battered Ford pickup truck roared around the corner of the warehouse with its horn blaring, sliding sideways on the slush and splashing a tidal wave of muddy water directly toward Alessandro’s shoes.

"Get in! Move, move, move!" a sharp female voice screamed from the passenger window.

Emily didn't hesitate.

She surged out from behind the dumpster, ran across the icy pavement, and threw herself against the passenger door of the truck as it ground to a halt.

The door swung open. A strong hand grabbed her coat collar and hauled her inside just as a suppressed pistol shot pinged off the truck's rear fender.

Bang.

The Ford’s tires shrieked against the asphalt as the driver slammed the accelerator, fishtailing out of the alley and onto the main highway.

Emily collapsed against the sticky vinyl seat, gasping for air, her chest heaving.

She looked over at the driver.

Short, dark hair tucked beneath a woolen beanie, a scarred left eyebrow, and piercing green eyes that looked like they had stared down the barrel of a shotgun more than once.

"Sara?" Emily breathed, disbelief halting her lungs. "Sara Vance? I thought you went into federal witness protection five years ago!"

Sara kept her eyes locked on the windshield wipers beating frantically against the sleet. "I did. And I broke out the second my contacts told me Alessandro Vitale was tearing through Wisconsin looking for a pregnant ghost."

Sara glanced sideways at Emily, her jaw tight. "You stupid girl. What were you thinking, running off to a cheap motel with fifty bucks in your pocket? A man like Alessandro doesn't lose what he considers his property. Not ever."

"He told the entire underworld that Valentina is the lady of his house," Emily whispered, staring down at her empty hands. "He humiliated me in front of sixty people. What was I supposed to do? Sit quietly and pour his guests champagne while his mistress wore my mother's pearls?"

"Pride is a luxury for women who don't carry mafia heirs," Sara said bluntly, shifting gears as the truck careened around a sharp mountain curve. "Alessandro doesn't love Valentina. Valentina is a political pawn to secure the New York shipping docks. But you... you carry his bloodline. To a man like him, that makes you the most dangerous leverage in the syndicate."

Emily clutched her stomach. "He won't hurt the baby."

"He won't have to," Sara replied grimly. "He'll just lock you in the master suite, surround you with armed guards, and let you die slowly of a broken heart while he plays emperor of Chicago. Is that what you want for your child?"

Emily looked out the frosted window at the dark, endless pine forests rushing past.