He Froze His Pregnant Wife for His Mistress

Eight months heavy with the Falcone bloodline, I carried the ledgers up to Damiano's rooms at the social club myself.

The air inside was thick enough to choke on, the radiators hissing like something alive. Just as I reached for the vent to bleed off the heat, his personal courier stepped into my path.

"Signora," she said sweetly, one fingertip resting at the corner of her lip, "it's my time of the month. I chill so easily. Please, leave it off."

I looked at her sideways. My child was growing inside me, and heat like this could kill a woman in my condition.