Surrogate for My Mafia Ex

Surrogate for My Mafia Ex

Riley Above Story · Ongoing · 160.7k Words

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Introduction

Harper never planned to sell her womb, not until her father’s debt left her with no other choice. When she applies to become a surrogate, she also never expects to be chosen by the city’s most ruthless and powerful Mafia King. Even more shocking? The man behind the contract is hauntingly familiar.
He is Cade Leone, the ex she had to dump and leave years ago.
After all these years, how will they face what remains of their love and pain?

Chapter 1

Harper’s POV

“When was the last time you were sexually active?”

“Not since high school.” I answered, feeling uneasy.

When I applied to be a surrogate, I thought I was fully prepared, but hearing all these personal questions was starting to make me waver in my decision.

This surrogacy center was controlled by one of the biggest mafia groups in the city, and they didn’t care one bit about privacy.

The nurse nodded and continued. “And your total number of sexual partners?”

I felt heat rush to my face. “I’ve only had one sexual partner in my life.”

The nurse stared at me for a moment before she continued checking things off on her clipboard. I couldn’t help the feeling that she was doubting the truth of my answer.

It was true, though.

My high school boyfriend, Cade, is the only person I’ve ever slept with.

If I was being honest with myself, I was probably still in love with him. So much so that my heart hurts when I think about him or how we left things.

Not that I had any right to complain, afterall…I’m the one who broke up with him.

I never wanted to end things, but I couldn’t drag him down with me.

“Any history of sexually transmitted diseases?” The nurse continued.

“No, not at all.”

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

“No.” I said, feeling my voice come out meek and wavering. “No, I haven’t.”

“And how many one night stands have you had?”

“Is that really a necessary question?”

I didn’t have anything to hide, but all of it was starting to feel too much like an overwhelming interrogation.

“If you can’t even answer this, you’re welcome to leave and withdraw your surrogacy application”

The nurse eyed me in challenge as her finger hovered above the security alert button—jumping on her opportunity to weed out the weak, it seemed.

I swallowed hard, shoving down my pride and protest.

“I’ve never…” I started then cleared my throat. “I’ve never had a one night stand.”

I didn’t have a choice.

Surrogacy was a huge commitment but it came with a huge payout, I needed the money and I needed it fast.

My father disappeared a few months ago and left my younger sister and I to deal with his massive amounts of debt. I had to protect my sister from the relentless and ruthless debt collectors constantly banging on our door.

“Thank you, Miss Sinclair,” the nurse said, “you’ve passed the first round of interviews.”

I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in.

“As luck would have it,” the nurse continued, “the biggest client our center has ever had is taking interviews for a surrogate today. Now, let me walk you to the waiting room for that.”

She figured I wanted that interview without even asking if I was interested.

And she was right.

I didn’t know what “biggest client” meant, but it didn’t matter. I got up from the chair and followed the nurse down a short hallway leading to the waiting room.

“Miss Sinclair,” the nurse said, “please wait here until your name is called.”

I nodded, looking around at all the other girls sitting in the waiting room.

I suddenly wondered just how many of them were in a similar kind of situation as I was.

The room was packed, and if I didn’t know I was in a surrogacy center, I might think I was at a photoshoot with how these women looked.

They were gorgeous beyond words, all of them had an air of confidence and seamless beauty that I did not have.

I could feel the atmosphere shift when they noticed I walked into the room. All eyes were on me and not in a good way.

The idle chatter and soft laughter had stopped, instead the room filled with not so quiet whispers.

“Who let her in?”

“I feel bad for her, really, I do.”

“She doesn’t stand a chance.”

I tried to straighten my clothes a bit, feeling insecure under their judging gaze.

Thankfully, they looked away and continued having excited conversations with the other perfectly dressed women.

It felt like hours as I sat there in silence watching everyone else come and go. All I could do was listen.

That’s how I learned who was the “biggest client” and why everyone looked so perfect.

Apparently, the mysterious Young Leone—the young mafia boss of the Leone family—was the one selecting a surrogate.

What many of the women were excited about was that since Young Leone wasn’t married or in any kind of relationship, he intended to use the surrogate’s egg.

Some of the women dreamed of ending up marrying him from being his surrogate and carrying their child.

The idea seemed completely absurd to me.

They didn’t even know him, how could they throw themselves so carelessly at such a dangerous man?

“Miss Sinclair?” A nurse called.

The other women stopped for a moment, looking around the room for the name that had been called.

I stood up hesitantly.

“Right this way, please.”

I was led to a room much like the one I’d just come from, except this one had a single man inside sitting at a table by a small video screen.

On the screen, a man sat far from the camera in dim lighting. I couldn’t make out most of his features besides facial hair, but I did notice his broad, menacing shoulders attached to a very clearly muscular body.

In different circumstances, I might even have said his muscles were drool-worthy, but that’s not something I would ever admit to anyone else or ever think to act on.

As soon as this man (who I assumed was Young Leone) noticed I entered the room, he seemed to freeze completely for a moment.

Though perhaps after so many interviews, he was just bored and done with all these women or he took one look at me and felt disappointed.

“Sir,” I heard an off-screen voice say, “You’re on. You can start the interview.”

The man shook his head and snapped himself out of whatever daze he was in.

“Apologies,” He said, motioning for me to take a seat. “Let’s get started.”

Listening to his voice, I couldn’t help but feel my heart beat pick up.

Memories I had buried washed over me.

His voice sounded so familiar—so much like my ex-boyfriend, Cade—that it made my heart feel like breaking all over again.

When was my last relationship? Cade.

When was my last sexual encounter? Cade.

When was my last everything before my whole life flipped upside down and I was desperate to pay off a debt that wasn’t mine? Cade. Cade, and Cade.

I looked up to the man sitting in the dim light on the screen.

Could it really be…?

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