Pregnant With the Don’s Heirs, I Disappeared
I hid behind the study curtains, heart racing with a fragile, trembling joy. In my hands: an ultrasound photo—two heartbeats—and a no-limit black card. Alessandro had given it to me last night, his lips on my neck, calling me his Donna, his queen.
Tonight, I was going to tell him about the twins.
"The Petrov family needs to see my good faith," his voice drifted in, smooth as velvet. "Vittoria arrives Thursday. I’ll announce the engagement then."
My blood froze.
"What about Elena?" someone asked. "She’s been with you three years. She manages the books, dug that slug out of your side herself. Is this fair to her?"
"Elena?" He leaned back in the leather chair, cigar smoke curling around his jaw
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