The Mafia King's Hidden Baby: A Secret Pregnancy Mafia Romance

The deadliest man to step into my bakery didn't want a pastry.

He wanted a ghost—and he brought his mute five-year-old nephew to find her.

I run a quiet, late-night patisserie in New Orleans' French Quarter. I mend broken spirits with warm sugar and coffee, keeping my head down and my own past buried. So when a dark-eyed stranger walks in ten minutes before closing, I assume he's just another lost tourist.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Matteo Bellandi checks the locks before he ever looks at me. Dark eyes like midnight. A scar slicing across his jaw. The kind of lethal presence that screams Italian syndicate, wrapped in a bespoke suit.

So naturally, when I try to hand him a napkin, I trip over my own apron and leave a powdered-sugar handprint across his expensive lapel.

(In my defense, he looks like a sin worth committing.)

It's his silent nephew who breaks my heart.

Leo. Five years old. Terrified of the world. Clinging to Matteo's leg and refusing to speak a single word—until he takes one bite of my cinnamon brioche and smiles.

They keep coming back.

Night after night, I tell myself Matteo is nothing more than a stern, grieving uncle trying to save the little boy he loves.

Then gunshots shatter my front window.

They were aiming for Leo.

He survives, but the attack sends him deeper into silence. He won't eat. He won't sleep. He won't let go of my hand.

So I leave my quiet bakery behind and step into Matteo's heavily guarded fortress on the Bayou.

I tell myself I'm staying only until Leo feels safe again.

That I can ignore Matteo's smoldering looks, his lethal protection, and the dark promise in his touch.

I was lying.

Because in the Bellandi family, weakness is a death sentence.

And now I've become Matteo's greatest weakness.

Because I'm carrying the next Bellandi heir.

And if his enemies discover my secret, they won't just come for me.

They'll come for all three of us.