Dante Moretti is not the kind of man who loses composure. He has spent his entire adult life building a version of himself that doesn’t — the don, the wolf, the man who reads every room before entering it and never lets what he finds move him in ways he hasn’t authorized.
He crossed paths with Eli Vasquez six months ago. Once. One night, a collision in a restaurant corridor, a scent that hit him like a key finding a lock he didn’t know he had. He filed it. He put it away. He did not count the days.
Then Eli walks into his boardroom hired to audit his holdings, and Dante’s wolf goes still in the specific way it goes still when it has found something it is not going to let go of.
Eli Vasquez is precise, professional, and doing an excellent job of performing complete indifference to a man who can read suppressed omega scent through pharmaceutical-grade masking from across a conference table. He stated the terms of his engagement to Dante’s face in front of four Moretti soldiers without blinking. He is not afraid of this room or this man.
He should be afraid. He isn’t. Dante finds this, against everything reasonable, catastrophically interesting.
Six months. One night. One scent that never quite faded. And a pregnancy that Eli has not mentioned to anyone, which Dante’s wolf registered the moment he walked through the door.
Dark, obsessive, and genuinely surprising in its warmth. The mafia shifter mpreg romance that earns every twist it delivers. Read it now.
