The billionaire Mafia's Pregnant maid
Crying was weakness, and weakness was dangerous here.
Meanwhile, in her chambers, Georgia poured herself a glass of red wine, satisfaction warming her like fire. She could feel the tension tightening between Lucien and Maya, the cracks spreading wider with every word she whispered into his ear.
She tilted the glass, watching the deep crimson swirl. “Soon,” she murmured to the empty room, lips curving into a predator’s smile.
In another part of the house, Lucien stood at his window, cigar burning low between his fingers, staring into the darkness. Georgia’s words and Maya’s silence battled in his mind.
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