Pregnant with the Mafia's Twins

Pregnant with the Mafia's Twins

oyindamola aduke · Ongoing · 304.3k Words

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Introduction

Five years ago, she ran for her life. Now he wants his family back… at any cost.

Once trapped in a loveless marriage to Dario Moretti, Italy’s most feared mafia king. Elena Caruso barely escaped with her unborn twins and her life. Framed for betrayal by Dario’s cunning stepmother and humiliated by his affairs, Elena was cast aside like trash. When he tried to kill her and their child, she vanished into the shadows of New York, starting over with a new name and an iron heart.

Now a sought-after interior designer, Elena is confident, fearless, and thriving, until Dario crashes back into her world like a loaded gun, desperate to reclaim what he threw away.

But Elena isn't the same fragile woman he once controlled. And she won’t give up her freedom or her children without a fight.

He wants redemption and she wants revenge, while their twins? They want the truth…

In a world of blood ties and broken vows, love isn’t a fairytale, it’s a battlefield.

Chapter 1

The clock struck past midnight.

Elena lay fast asleep, her body curled beneath the soft covers, finally surrendering to the exhaustion of the day. All she wanted was a moment of peace. A breath. A night without fear.

But peace was a luxury she no longer owned.

A sudden pressure crushed her chest, a heavy weight forcing her into the mattress. Her eyes snapped open, panic flooding her chest as she struggled to breathe. And then she saw them, two piercing, ice-blue eyes staring down at her in the dark, glowing with something unreadable.

She didn’t need the light to know who it was.

She knew that scent. That breath. That touch.

Her husband.

Dario Moretti.

"Why are you wearing panties?" His voice was a low growl in her ear, quiet but deadly. "Did you forget what I told you, sweetheart? You’re supposed to be ready for me in this bed."

A chill danced down Elena’s spine. She wanted to speak, to explain, but fear stole her voice.

She had forgotten.

She was so tired. So nauseous. Her body had been aching for days, her head pounding endlessly. The moment she lay down, she’d drifted off without a second thought.

But excuses meant nothing to Dario , not when he was in this mood.

The ruthless mafia king of Western Italy, Dario was feared by all. Handsome. Wealthy. Untouchable. And cold as death. People who crossed him didn’t get second chances, they got buried.

And Elena?

She was his wife.

Not by love or choice. But by force, an arranged marriage born out of obligation.

He married her only because his powerful grandfather had demanded it. The old man owed Elena his life, she had saved him once, and in return, he had chosen her to be Dario’s bride. When Dario refused, his inheritance and the entire Moretti empire were threatened.

Dario obeyed. But he never forgave.

To him, Elena was nothing but a burden. A gold digger. A stain on his pride. And he never let her forget it.

He hovered above her now completely bare his warmth pressing against her cold skin. Her body stiffened. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want this. Not tonight.

But he didn’t care.

Without warning, he tore her panties away and entered her with a rough, brutal thrust.

"Ah!" Elena cried out, the pain immediate, sharp, and unforgiving.

"Fuck, you're so dry," Dario growled, his disgust clear.

"And how many times have I told you to wash before bed? You reek of sweat and spices. What are you doing all day, cooking for ghosts?"

His insults cut deeper than his actions. But Elena had learned not to flinch. After three years of this loveless marriage, her heart had grown calloused. Still, deep inside, a fragile part of her held on to a foolish dream that maybe one day, he would look at her with something other than hatred.

But dreams like that don’t survive long in a cage.

She turned her head away, hiding the tears threatening her eyes.

Yet suddenly, his actions shifted. Dario dipped his head into her neck, inhaling her scent like it calmed him. His fingers moved gently across her inner thighs, brushing her sensitive spot in slow, deliberate circles.

Her body betrayed her. Her breath hitched. A soft moan slipped from her lips.

"Ah… Dario…”

He froze.

"What did you just say?" His voice dropped to a whisper low and deadly.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Moretti," she stammered, immediately correcting herself.

He had forbidden her from calling him by name. Only his family and trusted allies had that right.

"That’s better," he hissed. "Remember your place."

He brought his finger to his lips, tasting her. "Disgusting," he muttered.

But he licked it clean anyway.

The contradiction twisted in her gut.

She hated him.

She hated that her body responded to his touch. She hated how he insulted her and still couldn’t stay away from her bed. She hated the shame, the humiliation, the pain.

And yet, she lay there powerless, breathless and trying not to cry.

His eyes locked with hers, unreadable. For a moment, she thought she saw something. Softness? Longing? But it vanished as quickly as it came.

He thrust into her again, and his lips crushed hers with a hunger that confused her.

It wasn’t love.

It couldn’t be.

Dario had sex with her every night, whether she wanted it or not. Whether she was exhausted or sick, he took what he wanted and left her hollow.

He hated her… didn’t he?

And yet, he couldn’t go a single night without her.

Was it a desire? Obsession? Control?

Whatever it was, it scared her more than hatred ever could.

Tonight, he was different. Slower. More deliberate. It terrified her.

"Wait, Mr. Moretti…" she gasped, her voice cracking.

He groaned. "What now?"

"Please… be gentle tonight," she whispered, her voice shaking.

He scoffed. "What’s so special about tonight?"

"I… I’m not feeling well."

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. For a heartbeat, they softened just barely and then turned to stone again.

"A new trick, huh?" he said coldly.

Elena didn’t answer.

He threw her legs over his shoulder and slid deeper inside, rocking his hips with slow cruelty.

"I enjoy seeing you in pain beneath me," he whispered with a dark smile.

Tears spilled silently down her cheeks.

She stayed still. Silent. A lifeless doll.

Yet Dario for the first time was gentle. He touched her differently. He didn’t stop until she broke. Until her body betrayed her again.

She climaxed. She hated it.

He came inside her. Not once, but three times.

Two hours later, he collapsed beside her, exhausted.

She shifted his heavy body to the side, gently moving him away.

And then… she stared at the ceiling, her heart pounding.

She was pregnant.

The test she took that morning was still hidden in the drawer. Two lines. Positive.

She had missed her period. The nausea had worsened. There was no denying it now.

A new life was growing inside her.

A mix of fear and joy tangled in her chest. But one fear drowned out the rest:

How would Dario react when he found out?

He had told her from the start he never wanted a child with her.

He’d see it as betrayal. As a trap.

She didn’t even remember when she missed a pill or when this miracle happened.

But still… a tiny spark of hope flickered inside her.

Maybe… This baby could change everything.

Maybe it could change him and that could save her also.

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