Five months pregnant and nearly broke, I was standing in a grocery store with just $17 in my bank account when my wealthy ex-fiancé waved hundred-dollar bills in my face and humiliated me in front of strangers. His new fiancée laughed at my pregnant belly while someone nearby started recording. I was desperately trying not to cry when three men in black suits entered the store, followed by Chicago's most feared mafia boss. **And when he walked straight toward me, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me in front of everyone, my ex-fiancé's face went completely white.**

Inside the cabin, the noise of the city was completely erased by double-paned acoustic glass and thick leather upholstery. I sat pressed against the passenger door, my hands folded tightly across my lap, watching the city lights streak past in long ribbons of neon red and gold.

Adrian sat across from me in the rear lounge, his long legs stretched out, looking entirely at ease in his kingdom. On the console between us sat my beat-up canvas purse, holding my seventeen dollars and a receipt for the vitamins his guard had purchased.

"You lied back there," I said, breaking the heavy silence. "You told Nathan we were married."

"It was an administrative shortcut," Adrian replied smoothly, not looking up from a leather-bound folder he was reviewing. "Men like Nathan Vance do not understand restraining orders or moral pleas. They understand ownership. By establishing that you belong to me, I guaranteed he won't look in your direction without checking over his shoulder for the rest of his natural life."

The word belong made my spine stiffen.

"I don't belong to anyone, Adrian. I made that mistake with Nathan for four years. I lived under his rules, bent myself into the shape his family wanted, and look where it left me. Living on rice and beans while he parades his mistress around town."

Adrian finally closed the folder, setting it aside. His pale gray eyes locked onto mine, intense and unyielding.

"Nathan Vance is a boy playing with his father’s fortune. Do not insult me by comparing us." He shifted forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, closing the physical gap between us. "You didn't answer my question. Why didn't you tell me about the child?"

A lump rose in my throat, hot and painful. "What was I supposed to do? Walk into a Moretti compound and announce that Chicago’s most ruthless crime syndicate had an heir on the way? I read the newspapers, Adrian. I know what your world is. Car bombs, federal indictments, men disappearing in Lake Michigan. I wanted my baby to have a normal life."

"A normal life?" Adrian’s brow arched in cold irony. "You were standing in an aisle debating whether you could afford eggs, Claire. That isn't a life. That is slow, agonizing erosion."

He reached over and opened the folder again, pulling out a multi-page document stamped with heavy legal seals. He laid it flat on the armrest beside me.

"What is this?" I asked, looking at the dense legal text.

"A marriage contract," Adrian said simply.

I stared at him, stunned. "Are you insane? We don't know each other. We spent one night together seven months ago!"

"And that one night created an heir to the Moretti legacy," he replied without missing a beat. "Here are the terms. You marry me legally by tomorrow afternoon. In exchange, you will be granted complete legal ownership of a twelve-million-dollar estate in Lake Forest in your name alone, fully staffed and secured. A trust fund of fifty million dollars will be established for our child upon signing. You will never want for food, medical care, or safety again."

"And what do you get?" I demanded, my voice trembling with indignation. "What does a man like you want with a ruined, pregnant woman whose life is an internet punchline?"

Adrian reached out, his bare fingers catching a loose strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail, gently tucking it behind my ear. His touch was unexpectedly warm, sending a shiver through my core that had nothing to do with fear.

"I get my family under my roof," Adrian said, his voice deep and gravelly. "My father spent his life with mistresses, scattering illegitimate children across this city who grew up to betray him and tear each other apart. I swore that whatever blood I brought into this world would be raised in light, protected by every gun and dollar I control."

He paused, his eyes darkening.

"Furthermore, the Moretti board requires stability. My uncle, Salvatore, is currently challenging my leadership, claiming that an unmarried man with no succession plan is a liability. By marrying you, I solidify my position. You need security. I need a family. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"And if I say no?" I asked, testing the cage. "If I tell you to drop me off at my apartment and never contact me again?"

Adrian tilted his head, a faint, chilling smile touching the corner of his lips.

"I would never force you, Claire. But before you make that decision, let me show you what you're returning to."

The Maybach slowed to a crawl, stopping at the curb of a dingy brick tenement building in Pilsen—my apartment building. Outside, parked under a broken streetlight, sat two unmarked black sedans. Standing near the entrance were three men wearing heavy leather jackets, pacing the sidewalk with nervous, predatory energy.

"Who are they?" I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat.

"Nathan isn't the only one who noticed you," Adrian said quietly. "My uncle’s scouts tracked you down this morning. If I had arrived at that grocery store twenty minutes later, they would have taken you to Salvatore’s compound to use as leverage against me."