ℐ𝒹

The cold steel of my suppressed pistol pressed against my thigh, a lethal tool meant to end the life of Francesco Genovese. At just twenty-four, he was the city's youngest and most insufferable mafia boss. To the underworld, I was one of the best assassins in the business—even if they always added "for a girl." To Francesco, I was a one-night stand from a crowded club. It was entirely the alcohol, but he had spent the last two months acting like we were destined soulmates. I found him completely cocky, deeply annoying, and utterly exhausting. I slipped through the shadows of his penthouse office, my breath catching as my hand brushed the slight, telltale curve of my stomach. He was the father. And he had no idea I was his executioner. Francesco stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the glittering city skyline. He didn't turn around, but a smirk played on his lips. "I was wondering when you were coming, mio amore." "I’m not your love," I snapped, raising the weapon. Instead of reaching for his own gun, Francesco turned and walked straight toward me. He dropped to his knees, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Reaching out, he gently placed his hands on my waist and planted a soft, lingering kiss right against my belly. "I would do anything for you and our baby," he whispered, looking up past the barrel of my gun. "Do it."