I Ran Away With His Child, the Don Begged Me Back

I'm the orphan girl adopted by the Moretti family, which was the biggest mafia family on the East Coast.

The current Don Grayson Moretti was my best friend growing up.

At a family banquet, somebody slipped him an aphrodisiac and I slept with him.

Good news: the experience was incredible. He was absolutely massive and we went at it eight times in a single night.

Bad news: I'm pregnant.

He's just put out a massive bounty, ordering every man he has to hunt down the woman who vanished from his bed a month ago.

The Moretti family has eyes on every street in New York. Not even a rat can dig a hole without him knowing.

I forced my face into something calm and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Gray, that girl from that night — did you find her? What are you going to do?"

Grayson let out a cold laugh.

"Break every bone she's got. Burn her to ash. Scatter what's left."

At a family banquet, I slept with Grayson Moretti, the Don of the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The next morning, he put out a citywide bounty hunting the woman who'd disappeared from his bed.

I forced myself to look calm and clapped him on the shoulder.

"What if she's carrying your kid?"

I watched his closed eyes.

Grayson lifted his lids.

His irises were the deepest ice blue, the fireplace flames dancing in them.

"Bastard or not, she's done." He tipped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with whiskey. "I want this woman erased from New York."

The glass hit the oak table with a dull thud.

"Cheap perfume. Trash. Not worth my time."

He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his mouth.

"Sloppy work. Has to be one of Fontaine's pawns. They actually think climbing into my bed gets them the South Side docks?"

My fingers curled against my belly, nails digging into my palm. "Maybe she wasn't after the docks."

Grayson sneered.

"If it's not the docks, it's money. Anyone who tries to play me pays for it."

He stared at the surveillance still, disgust in his eyes.

"Anyone stupid enough to pull this shit under my nose ends up in the East River."

My stomach turned over.

Acid rose in my throat, and I clamped my mouth shut and swallowed it back down. My esophagus burned.

"What's wrong?"

"My stomach's off."

I turned my head away.

Grayson stood up, took the suit jacket off the back of his chair, and draped it over my shoulders.

His shirt had torn open at two of the buttons from his earlier irritation, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the tight stretch of fabric over his cut abs.

I couldn't help swallowing hard, throat suddenly dry, as my eyes dropped lower—to the heavy bulge straining against his pants.

How could something be that big?

I couldn't help but think back to that night. Grayson lost all control, pinning