Chapter 1
Four months after I spent one unforgettable night with a stranger, my best friend stood beside Chicago's most feared mafia boss and announced she was carrying his baby. I was holding a mop when she ordered security to throw me out, unaware that **the baby growing inside me was actually his.**
"Get that filthy cleaning woman out of here," Delia Marsh commanded, tightening her diamond-covered fingers around his arm.
His dark eyes settled on me, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
I recognized those eyes.
Then Delia leaned toward me, smiling.
"Tell him the truth, Marin, and your little sister dies in that hospital."
Twenty years of friendship had just turned into a death threat.
But Delia had another secret. She had already arranged for me to disappear permanently.
Four months earlier, I was twenty-six, broke, and raising my thirteen-year-old sister, Nell, after our mother's death.
Nell had a serious heart condition, and I owed my disgusting manager, Sutton Vane, thousands in medical expenses.
That evening, he cornered me beside the storage closet.
"You're beautiful, sweetheart. Why work yourself to death when you could pay me another way?"
"I'll repay every dollar," I snapped. "But you'll never touch me."
His face hardened.
"Girls with nothing shouldn't pretend they have choices."
I shoved past him into a violent Chicago thunderstorm.
With only $14.38, a dying phone, and no buses running, I walked until I spotted an open entrance to a luxury hotel.
Inside, blood stained the marble floor.
"Hello?" I whispered.
A towering stranger emerged, wearing a black shirt, his tattooed forearm pressed against the doorway.
"You're not supposed to be here."
"Neither is all that blood."
"I'm fine."
He stumbled.
I caught his arm before he hit the floor.
"Clearly, you're not."
He stared at me, then gave a faint, unexpected smile.
Inside his breathtaking suite, he explained that someone had drugged his drink and attacked him. A private doctor was already coming.
I helped him with clean gauze until the physician arrived, treated his injuries, and confirmed he was recovering.
Outside, thunder shook the windows.
"You can stay until the roads reopen," he offered.
"I don't accept favors from strange men."
"Then consider it payment for preventing an embarrassing collapse."
He pointed toward the guest bedroom.
"The door locks from the inside."
Something about that simple consideration made me trust him.
We spent hours eating sandwiches and talking.
He learned about Nell, my exhausting job, and my love of old movies.
I learned he'd lost his father young, owned waterfront businesses, and had a mother who believed tenderness made men weak.
For the first time in years, I wasn't thinking about debts or hospital bills.
I was laughing.
Then I asked the question he'd been avoiding.
"What's your name?"
He studied me for a long moment, his expression suddenly unreadable.
"Does it matter tonight?"
Before I could answer, his phone lit up on the table.
**And the name flashing across the screen was one I would never forget.**
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