Elena had faced boardrooms full of hostile shareholders, ruthless tabloids, and men who wanted to tear Rossi apart just to watch her bleed.

None of that terrified her like the two pink lines staring back at her in the bathroom.

She was Pregnant.

Her pulse refused to steady. She sank onto the cold marble floor, pressing her trembling hand over her mouth, fighting the wave of panic rushing through her.

A child.

Dante’s child.

Their child.

After spending a long time in the bathroom, she ...