Chapter 2 2

Valeria stared at the note for a long moment, the black ink slicing through the pristine paper like a blade.

Don't disappear too quickly. I'm not done with you yet. - A

She traced her fingers over the letters, her nails tapping softly against the smooth surface. Something about the way he'd written it sent a slow chill through her veins. It wasn't a plea, nor was it some sweet post-coital sentiment.

It was a warning.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Men like him-men who radiated power with every step, every glance-never truly let go of something they wanted. And if last night had taught her anything, it was that Alessandro Moretti was a man who took whatever he pleased.

Too bad for him.

She wasn't the kind of woman who waited around to be claimed.

Tearing the note in half, she let the pieces flutter to the floor before making her way to the bathroom. The moment she stepped inside, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Tousled dark waves cascaded over her shoulders, a faint bruise darkening the skin just below her collarbone-a mark of possession, an unspoken claim.

Valeria scoffed.

Gripping the edges of the cool marble sink, she inhaled deeply. Last night was exactly what it was meant to be-no strings, no emotions. Just heat, fire, and a reckless decision she refused to regret.

She turned on the shower, letting the steaming water wash away the remnants of him, of the night, of the things she'd let herself feel for just a moment too long.

By the time she stepped out, she was herself again.

Unshakable. Detached. Ready to disappear like she always did.

Her dress was wrinkled beyond repair, but she found a crisp white button-up hanging on the back of the closet door, a silent invitation-or perhaps a test. She smirked as she slid it over her bare skin, rolling up the sleeves and letting the hem brush against her thighs. If she was going to walk out of his penthouse, she might as well do it in style.

Valeria slipped into her heels, grabbed her clutch, and headed for the door.

The moment she stepped into the hall, a pair of sharp green eyes locked onto hers.

A man in a dark suit stood at the far end of the corridor, his stance rigid, his expression unreadable. He was tall, built like a soldier, his presence crackling with restrained energy.

Valeria raised a brow. "Don't tell me you're here to escort me out."

The man didn't blink. "Mr. Moretti asked me to see you home."

Of course, he did.

Her lips curved. "Tell Mr. Moretti I don't need an escort. I know how to find my own way out."

The man didn't move, his gaze steady, unwavering.

Valeria sighed. "Fine. Lead the way, soldier."

He didn't respond, simply turned and walked toward the elevator, his movements precise and disciplined. She followed, heels clicking softly against the polished floors.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and the moment they stepped inside, the air shifted. Valeria felt the weight of his scrutiny, the way his gaze flickered toward the oversized shirt she wore.

She smirked. "Something on your mind?"

His jaw ticked. "Just wondering how long you think you can keep running."

That made her pause.

The doors slid shut, sealing them inside the sleek, mirrored space. Valeria tilted her head, watching him through the reflection.

"I don't run," she said smoothly. "I just don't stick around for the part where things get complicated."

The man didn't respond, but she could feel the weight of his judgment, the unspoken warning in his silence.

The elevator chimed again, and the doors glided open to reveal the lavish lobby. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, casting golden streaks across the marble floors.

"Have a good day, Miss De Luca," the man said as she stepped forward.

Valeria didn't look back.

She didn't need to.

Because this was over.

It was just a night. A fleeting, intoxicating mistake.

And she would never see Alessandro Moretti again.

Or so she thought.

Two months later, Valeria stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the edges of the sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

The pregnancy test sat on the counter.

Positive.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath uneven, her stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with morning sickness.

No. No, this couldn't be happening.

She stared at the small plastic device, as if willing the result to change, to rewrite the reality she refused to accept. But the truth was right there, staring back at her in bold, unforgiving lines.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

A sharp knock at the door made her flinch.

"Valeria?"

Her best friend, Bianca, sounded impatient. "Are you dying in there, or are you just ignoring me?"

Valeria swallowed hard, forcing the panic down as she yanked open the door.

Bianca's sharp gaze immediately locked onto her face, her dark eyes narrowing. "Jesus. You look like you've seen a ghost."

Valeria let out a breathless laugh. "Worse."

Bianca arched a brow. "Worse than a ghost? That's impressive." She paused, then her eyes flicked toward the counter-toward the test.

Her entire expression shifted.

"Oh, shit."

Valeria exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "Yeah. That about sums it up."

Bianca walked forward, plucking the test off the counter like it might explode in her hand. "Okay. Okay, don't freak out-"

"I'm not freaking out."

Bianca shot her a look. "Oh, really? Because your voice is about three octaves higher than normal."

Valeria groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. "This is not happening. This was supposed to be a one-night stand. A mistake. A really good, really stupid mistake."

Bianca hesitated. "Does he know?"

Valeria scoffed. "Of course not."

"And you're... not planning on telling him?"

Silence.

Bianca groaned. "Val, I love you, but this is not something you can just sweep under the rug."

"I know that," Valeria snapped, then immediately sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know that, Bianca. But you don't understand. Men like him... they don't let go."

Bianca frowned. "What do you mean, men like him?"

Valeria hesitated.

Because she'd never actually told Bianca who the father was.

Bianca was her best friend, her ride-or-die, but there were certain things Valeria kept close to her chest. And sleeping with a man who practically oozed danger, who had an entire city under his control? Yeah, that was something she hadn't exactly shared.

But now, with the weight of reality pressing down on her, she knew she couldn't keep it buried.

So she exhaled slowly, meeting Bianca's gaze.

"The father," she said, her voice quieter now. "It's... Alessandro Moretti."

Bianca blinked.

And then, her face drained of color.

"The Alessandro Moretti?"

Valeria forced a tight smile. "The one and only."

Bianca let out a strangled sound. "Jesus Christ, Val." She ran a hand through her hair. "You slept with the head of the Moretti mafia? Are you insane?"

"Clearly," Valeria muttered.

Bianca groaned. "Okay. Okay, let's think this through." She started pacing. "You're pregnant with the heir to a literal mafia empire. That means if Moretti finds out-"

"He won't," Valeria cut in. "Because I'm not telling him."

Bianca stopped pacing. "Val..."

"No." Valeria shook her head, voice firmer now. "I don't want that life. I don't want him thinking he owns me just because of this. I refuse to be his."

Bianca hesitated, but the doubt in her expression was clear.

And Valeria hated that a small, terrified part of her was doubting, too.

Because Alessandro Moretti was not the kind of man who let things go.

And if he ever found out about this baby...

He would never let her go, either.