Signed By The Mafia Boss

Nobody warned Vera Calloway that the most dangerous meeting of her life would begin with a question about her name.

She had walked into that room with her chin up and her hands steady, eight months pregnant and absolutely determined not to let the fear show.

She had faced difficult men before. She had survived worse than a meeting.

But the moment she stepped through that door and her eyes landed on Marco Reyes, something shifted in the air around her, quiet and irresistible.

"You are Vera Calloway?" Marco asked, his deep voice carrying a faint Italian lilt, surprisingly gentle for a man who looked like him.

Vera studied his face slowly, almost against her will. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with ink-black hair and eyes so dark they swallowed the light.

His face looked handsome, but a deep scar carved its way from his forehead down to his right cheek, something that made the air around him feel heavier.

He sat like a man who had never once been told no. Posture straight, shoulders broad, with the kind of stillness that did not come from calm but from control.

Even seated, he seemed to take up too much space.

He looked absolutely terrifying, Vera thought.

One look at Marco Reyes, and she knew this was not a man you tested.

"Yes," she replied, her voice clipped.

Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, curling there like a shield. She was perched on the edge of a stiff couch across from him, and one of her brother's men stood just behind her, eyes fixed on her back, exactly as promised.

"Hmm." Marco's gaze dropped to her rounded belly, narrowing slightly.

"And that is Nikolai Vance's child."

"Yes."

His expression soured, like something bitter had crossed his tongue.

"You chose to have a child with that man? You could have done so much better, Bella."

Vera resisted the urge to roll her eyes and failed.

Why did everyone, including her own mother, keep saying that? Sure, Nikolai had his flaws, more than a few.

But he had taken her in when no one else would, protected her when she had had nothing. He had been kind to her, in his way.

And he had given her her son.

Rest in peace, Nikolai.

"Is there a point to this?" Vera asked, her patience fraying at the edges.

"Why did you bring me here?" Marco, for his part, looked utterly unbothered, like a man with nowhere else to be and nothing left to prove.

His dark eyes flickered with something close to amusement.

"A little impatient, are we?"

Vera stiffened but kept her voice even. Getting angry would be a mistake. This man was dangerous, the kind of dangerous that did not need to raise its voice.

"I did not think you brought me here for small talk," she said.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and the sound sent something cold skittering down her spine.

"Of course not. Though pregnancy does tend to make women a bit testy," he remarked, his tone light and deliberately infuriating.

Vera clenched her jaw.

"Let us get to the point," she said flatly.

"What do you want from me?"

Marco leaned back, pressing his fingertips together as he regarded her with quiet intensity. "Straight to business. I respect that." He paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable.

"Very well, Signorina Calloway. As I told your brother, you have something that belongs to me."

"And what would that be?"

"A series of codes. I will not bore you with the details, but they are written on a single piece of paper." He leaned forward, closing the distance between them just slightly.

"I have every reason to believe it is in your possession."

"And if it were, why would I hand it over to you?" Vera narrowed her eyes.

Marco's smile was slow and deliberate, the smile of someone who already knew how the game ended.

"Mio amore," he said softly,

"because you do not have a choice."

"What, you are going to kill me?" Her voice stayed steadier than she felt.

"Me, and my unborn baby?"

His brows lifted in what looked almost like genuine offense.

"Kill you? Absolutely not. I am a decent man, Signorina."

Vera let out a short, sharp laugh before she could stop herself.

"Did I say something amusing?" Marco's eyes narrowed.

"Decent?" she said.

"If you are a decent man, then I am the Virgin Mary." She gestured pointedly at her stomach.

"And this, right here, is baby Jesus, about a week from his debut."

Something moved across his jaw Not quite a smile, like he was actively resisting one.

"A sharp tongue," he said, his voice dropping low.

"I suppose what they say about redheads is true."

Vera rolled her eyes.

His expression sharpened, the brief flicker of warmth gone as quickly as it had appeared. "But let us not forget why we are here," he said, quiet and commanding now.

"I do not have your codes," Vera snapped.

Marco watched her for a long moment, unreadable. Then he simply leaned back again, unhurried.

"That is unfortunate," he said.

"Because I have reason to believe otherwise."

The sharp retort sitting on Vera's tongue died there.

Because the room had gone warm, too warm, all at once.

She gripped the armrest. Heat crawled up her neck, and her heartbeat shifted into something urgent and unsteady.

Marco's gaze sharpened immediately, his elbows dropping to the table between them.

"Signorina," he said, his voice measured but watchful.

"Is there a problem? Did I catch you in a lie?" A dangerous gleam crossed his eyes.

"You know where the paper is, do you not, Bella?"

"No," Vera said, shaking her head.

"No, I do not." She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. The room felt like it was breathing.

Was everything tilting?

Then it hit, a sharp and wrenching pain that tore through her abdomen. She gasped and doubled forward, both hands flying to her stomach.

Her dress was wet.

Her eyes dropped down in stunned silence.

Her water had broken, right here, in the office of the most dangerous man she had ever met. And from the look on Marco Reyes's face as he shot to his feet, whatever came next was going to be entirely out of both of their hands.