Valerie Foster's life turns upside down when she goes into labor in the presence of Antonio Costello, the notorious Capo of an Italian Crime Syndicate: La Viperia. In a chaotic turn of events, Antonio is forced to take Valerie to the hospital, where he accidentally signs the birth certificate as the father of her baby! But that's only the beginning. Much to Valerie’s dismay, Antonio becomes obsessed with Valerie and her baby boy, insisting on raising him as his own. Despite her protests, Antonio is determined to be the best accidental dad ever. *This is a compilation of several books.*
View More“You are Valerie Foster?” Antonio Costello asked in a thick Italian accent, his deep voice surprisingly gentle.
Valerie looked at him, studying his features slowly and carefully. He appeared to be in his late thirties with jet-black hair and eyes so dark they seemed almost black. His face, while almost handsome, had a deep scar running from his forehead down to his cheek on the right side, making him look intimidating, to say the least.He sat with an air of confidence, his posture tall and regal, indicating a man of power and strength. Even seated, his broad shoulders and the powerful build of his chest and arms hinted at his impressive height.
He looked absolutely terrifying, Valerie thought.
One look at Antonio Costello and Valerie could tell he wasn’t a man to be trifled with.
“Yes,” she replied briskly, holding her stomach protectively as if to protect her baby from the predator in front of her. She was sitting on a couch in front of him with one of her brother’s men standing behind her. He had his eyes glued to her just as he promised he would.
“Hmm,” Antonio said. He narrowed his eyes at Val’s pregnant belly. “And that’s Julian Sinclaire’s child.”
“Yes.”
The man made a face as if he had eaten something bitter. “You decided to have a child with that Russian sleaze bag? Could’ve done better, Bella.”
Val rolled her eyes. Why did everyone, including her mother, just assume she could’ve done better than Julian? Sure, he was a douchebag and a cheating bastard at times, but he was at least nice to her. He took her in and protected her when she needed it the most!
Not to mention he had gifted her with her unborn son. RIP Julian.
“Is there a point to this conversation?” Valerie asked impatiently. “Why did you bring me here?” She was starting to get quite irritable but Antonio seemed like he was in hurry to finish up. Like he had all the time in the world.
Antonio’s black eyes flashed. “A little impatient, are we?” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement.
Val bristled at Antonio’s condescending tone but forced herself to stay composed. Getting angry wouldn't be a good idea. This man was dangerous. “I didn’t think you brought me here to make small talk,” she said.
He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Of course, of course. Pregnancy does tend to make women a bit…testy,” he said coyly.
Val clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap back at him. Instead, she forced herself to remain calm and focused on him. “Let’s get to the point. What do you want from me?”
Antonio leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he studied her with those intense black eyes. “Straight to business, I like that,” he mused. “Very well, Signorina Foster. Like I said to your brother, you have something that belongs to me.”
“What would that be?” she asked even though she had no desire to continue this conversation with him.
“A series of codes. I won’t go into details, but they are written on a piece of paper,” he paused and leaned forward. “I have reasons to believe that you have it in your possession.”
Val narrowed her eyes. “And if I did have these codes, why would I give them to you?” she asked.
Antonio’s smile was like a predator’s, confident and unnerving. “Because, mio amore, you don’t have a choice.”
“What? Are you going to kill me? With my unborn baby?” Val asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She was starting get scared now. She didn't want to die. Despite being in dangerous situations multiple times in the past, she had always managed to survive.
His eyes widened. “Kill you? Oh no. I am more decent than that,” he exclaimed.
Valerie snorted loudly at that. Decent? This man had a sense of humor, that's for sure.
He frowned at her. “Do you have something to say? Did I say something funny?”
“If you are a decent human being, I’m the Virgin Mary.” She paused and pointed at her swollen belly before continuing. “And this… here… is baby Jesus ready to be born.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a moment, she thought he might smile. But his face stayed serious. Becaue, why not?
“You seem to have a sharp tongue, little lady,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I guess what they say about red-headed girls is true.”
Valerie rolled her eyes.
Antonio’s gaze narrowed, his demeanor shifting from playful to intense. “But let’s not forget why we’re here,” he continued, his voice low and commanding.
“I don’t have your stupid codes,” Val barked.
Antonio’s expression remained unreadable for a moment before he leaned back in his chair, seemingly unfazed by her outburst. “That’s a shame,” he replied calmly. “Because I have reason to believe otherwise.”
Val had something smartass to say. It was at the tip of her tongue but she stopped.
Because the room suddenly felt hot. Val gripped the edge of the chair. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and her heart pounded in her chest.
Antonio leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table between them. “Is there a problem, Signorina?” he asked, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he watched her squirm. “Did I catch you in a lie? You know where the paper is, don’t you, Bella?”
Val shook her head vehemently. “No, no, I don’t, asshole.”
“Then why do you look uncomfortable?” Antonio pointed out.
“Just hot, that’s all,” she mumbled, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. The room was suffocatingly warm now, and she glanced around helplessly.
Was it her imagination, or was everything beginning to sway?
Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through her abdomen, making her gasp and clutch at her stomach. Her dress was suddenly wet, and she looked down in shock.
Her water had broken.
“You’re not gonna like this,” Nico said, dropping his pack on the table with a heavy thud.Landon looked up from the map spread out in front of him. “Tell me anyway.”Nico pulled a thumb drive from his vest and tossed it down. “Spotted a squad moving low through the southeast ridge. Eight guys. Tactical gear. No insignias. They didn’t look lost.”Max leaned forward from where he was cleaning a sidearm. “Mercs?”“Trained,” Nico said. “Quiet. Coordinated. The kind you don’t send in unless you’re planning to take something and walk away without a trace.”Daphne stood by the wall, arms crossed, back rigid. “Did they see you?”“No,” Nico said. “They weren’t looking for me. They were looking for us.”Daphne pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “He’s not here to kill us,” she said flatly. “Not yet.”Max looked over at her, eyes narrowing. “You sure about that?”Daphne nodded. “If he wanted a body count, we’d already be counting. He’s after control. He’s here to collect.”Landon met her ga
The jungle heat didn’t bother Marquez. Not the sweat that clung to his collar, nor the thick, buzzing insects that circled like vultures.He sat in a leather chair that had been dragged into the center of the old hacienda, a man with a kingdom built on bones and silence. Around him, his men stood still as statues. None dared speak unless he invited it.He liked it that way.The world had tried to put a leash on him once, called him too violent, too erratic, even by cartel standards. Fools. Weak men flinched from chaos. He had learned to shape it.The door creaked open.Dutch entered first, his scarred face split by a grin that always made people uneasy. He carried a laptop under one arm. He was his most trusted man. No, he was more than a man. He was his weapon. They all were.“I’ve got something,” Dutch said, setting it on the table.Marquez didn’t glance at the screen right away. He sipped his drink. Rum over one perfect square of ice and waited.Dutch knew better than to keep him w
Daphne stood at the edge of the Villa’s south wing balcony, staring out toward the jungle where the last traces of smoke curled into the sky. Her fingers gripped the railing tight, white-knuckled.Landon found her there. Silent. Motionless. The only sign she was still breathing was the rise and fall of her shoulders, too steady to be calm.“They burned the decoy site,” he said quietly.Daphne didn’t look at him. “Good.”“They left bodies. Ours. Mercs. Scorched beyond recognition.”Still, she said nothing.He stepped closer, voice quieter now. “They think you are dead.”Landon leaned against the railing beside her, close enough to feel the heat still radiating off her skin. “This isn’t the end. They’ll dig deeper.”“They can dig until they choke on ash,” she said.She turned her eyes back to the trees, but Landon didn’t look away from her.“You scared the hell out of me,” he said.Daphne let out a short, humorless laugh. “Which part? The ravine? The mercs? Or the fact I didn’t die like
In the command room back at the Villa, Max studied the monitors. Three feeds from drone cams. Two scouts were posted in the underbrush along the trail. One thermal signature map that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.“They took the bait,” Landon said, stepping behind him. “Four trucks, two on foot. No insignia, but they’re Marquez’s style. Military patterns. Not cartel flash.”“Tracker units,” Max muttered. “Which means recon first. Then kill.”“They’ll find nothing.”“Oh, they’ll find something,” Max said, glancing at the red dot Camille had marked on the trail’s midpoint. “We just control what.”Down by the shoreline, Nico adjusted the position of a disguised mine, sweeping leaves carefully back over the tripwire with a twig. “Birdsong still quiet,” he whispered into his mic. “Cam, you have eyes?”“Three shadows cresting the southern ridge,” Camille replied. “All armed. Mismatched gear. No formation discipline.”“Mercs?”“Or desperate,” she said. “One’s limping.”Nico grunted. “Slopp
The room was too quiet.Max stood over the table, staring at the map as if he could will it to give him answers faster.“He thinks someone already found her.”Landon and he had a map laid out on the table. It had pins…blue for sightings, red for confirmed hits, and now a single black pin pressed into the coastline just east of Tomas’s villa. The conversation Camille had pulled from Tomas wasn’t just valuable intel.It was a warning.The door creaked open behind him. He didn’t turn.“You are pacing,” Landon said, voice cool but clipped. “That’s bad.”Max didn’t glance up. “Camille confirmed it. Marquez is spiraling. He is trying to hunt Daphne down harder than ever.”Landon walked in slowly, arms crossed, tension clinging to him like a second skin. “You think he knows where she is?”“No. But he suspects someone does.” Max pressed the black pin into the map harder, the tip biting through the board. “He’s tightening the noose.”“Then we cut the rope.”Max nodded once. “He’s paying for pr
The dress was black silk. It was elegant, sexy.It clung just enough to blend in, not enough to stand out. The kind of thing a quiet mistress or a discreet secretary might wear at a party like this. She'd chosen it on purpose.Camille moved through the crowd like a shadow, her expression soft, her smile rehearsed, her heels clicking just loud enough to be noticed without being remembered.Tomas had invited her as his "companion" for the evening. The fourth this month, if the whispers were true. He liked to rotate them. New faces kept his reputation glossy and untraceable.But Camille wasn't here for champagne.She was here for information."Stay close," Tomas murmured against her ear, guiding her toward the table near the balcony. "This crowd bites.""Only if you taste sweet," she said, her accent smooth and foreign.He laughed, charmed. Predictable.Tomas liked beautiful things. Especially beautiful things that pretended not to see the rot under his fingernails.Camille sat beside hi
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