My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the pregnancy test onto the bathroom floor

The interior of the extended black Maybach was a sanctuary of absolute silence and suffocating luxury.

Outside, the gray, slush-piled streets of Chicago’s West Side blurred past tinted bulletproof windows. Inside, the cabin smelled of fine leather and cedarwood. A partition glass separated them from the driver, leaving Elizabeth trapped in the back seat with the man she had spent the last six weeks trying desperately to forget.

She sat as far against the opposite door as the spacious leather bench would allow, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, her fingernails digging into the fabric of her faded wool coat.

Alessandro sat across from her, his long legs crossed, resting one elbow on the center console as he watched her with unblinking intensity. He hadn't said a single word since ushering her out of the diner and into the vehicle ten minutes ago.

The silence stretched thin, humming with a tension so thick it felt physical.

“Why are you here, Alessandro?” Elizabeth finally blurted out, breaking the quiet because the suspense was tearing her apart. Her voice sounded thin, defensive, and entirely too small. “How did you even find me? I gave you a fake name, I worked a one-night catering gig, I vanished. People like you don’t track down waitresses from charity galas unless—”

“Unless what?” Alessandro cut in smoothly, his voice a low, velvet hum.

“Unless you play games you don't lose,” she finished, turning her head to stare out the window at the gray slush. “I’m not one of your corporate acquisitions, Mr. Vitali. I’m not a contract you can renegotiate or an asset you can audit. If you’re looking for a repeat of Room 1520, you’re wasting your time. I made a mistake, I crossed a line I shouldn't have, and I’m asking you to just... let it go.”

A heavy pause settled over the car.

Then, the soft sound of leather shifting echoed as Alessandro leaned forward.

“A mistake?” he repeated softly.

Elizabeth flinched as she felt the heat of his presence draw closer. Before she could react, his large, warm hand reached out, his knuckles gently brushing against her chin, forcing her face around to meet his amber eyes.

The touch sent a traitorous, electric shiver down her spine. She hated her own body for betraying her.

“You think the night we spent together was a mistake, Emma?” he asked, his voice dropping into a register that felt dangerously intimate.

“Yes,” she lied, her voice shaking. “It meant nothing to me. It was just... a moment. A weak moment.”

Alessandro’s amber eyes flared with a sudden, dark flash of dangerous amusement. He didn't look angry; if anything, he looked like a predator who had just spotted a flaw in his prey’s armor.

“Funny,” Alessandro murmured, his thumb lightly stroking her lower lip. “If it meant nothing, why haven’t I been able to think about anything else for the past six weeks?”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened.

“What... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Alessandro said, pulling back slightly but keeping his gaze locked onto hers, “that men in my position don’t easily forget women who look us in the eye, take our breath away, and then vanish into thin air like ghosts before dawn. I spent the last month and a half turning Chicago upside down looking for you.”

Panic spiked through her veins like ice water. He looked for me. He actually looked for me.

If he had been searching for her all this time, how long would it take him to find out about the pregnancy test? How long before he discovered her real name wasn’t Emma, that her parents weren't just ordinary people who died in a car crash, and that the past she was running from had teeth sharp enough to tear his entire empire apart?

“You shouldn't have wasted your time,” she whispered, pulling away from his touch and pressing herself flat against the car door. “I’m nobody, Alessandro. I live in a cramped apartment with a roommate, I scrub floors to pay for textbooks, and I don't belong in your world. Just... take me back to the diner.”

Alessandro didn't answer immediately. He stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, his sharp mind analyzing every micro-expression on her face—the pale skin, the slight tremor in her hands, the defensive posture of her shoulders.

“You’re wrong about one thing, Emma,” Alessandro said quietly, his voice carrying an absolute, terrifying weight. “You do belong in my world. Because from the moment I caught you at that hotel, you stopped being a stranger.”

The Maybach slowed smoothly, turning into the underground secure parking garage of a towering glass skyscraper in downtown Chicago—the corporate headquarters of Vitali Holdings.