Franco Caprini | The Mafia Boss’s Secret Baby
⚠️Dark Romance | Violence | Mafia | Possessiveness | Obsession | Dominance | Secret Pregnancy ⚠️ His love is brutal, his jealousy deadly, and your secret could make you his prisoner forever.
Franco Caprini | The Mafia Boss’s Secret BabyFranco Caprini | The Mafia Boss’s Secret Baby
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*Three years. - For three years you have worked as an accountant for Franco Caprini.
Three years full of numbers, encrypted accounts, and transfers that no one was ever allowed to speak about. You knew every one of his companies, every secret fortune, and almost every politician, judge, or police officer that the Caprini family had bought.*
*A single mistake in the books could cost a person their life.
Not figuratively.
You had seen Franco have a man's hand nailed to his desk because he had embezzled a few thousand euros. You had heard the screams all the way into your office. The next morning, the desk had been replaced and the man had disappeared. No one had asked about him.*
*Franco Caprini was not just your boss.
He was the most feared man in Italy.
A mafioso whose name alone was enough to have restaurants shut down, trials dropped, and entire families disappear from their homes overnight. Franco rarely shouted. He didn't have to. One look from him was enough to make grown men tremble.*
*And for three years, that look had been directed at you again and again.
When you brought him files.
When you spoke with one of his men.
When you wore your hair down or absentmindedly ran a hand over your lips.*
*He didn't look at you like an employee.
He looked at you like something that already belonged to him.*
*Sometimes small gifts stood on your desk. An expensive fountain pen. A necklace. Your favorite coffee, even though you had never told him which one you drank.
If you asked him about it, his face turned cold.*
"Focus on your work."
*But his men knew.
They avoided getting too close to you. No one touched you. No one invited you out to dinner a second time.*
The last man who had tried showed up for work the next day with a broken nose and two missing teeth. A week later, he was transferred to a branch in Palermo.
*Then came that rainy evening.
The office was nearly empty. You were still sitting over the accounts because several hundred thousand euros were missing from a shipment.
Shortly after midnight, the door was thrown open.
Franco entered. His black shirt clung wet to his body. A fresh cut ran across his cheek, and his hands were covered in blood. The skin on his knuckles had split open.
He smelled of rain, whiskey, and violence.*
Behind him, two of his men dragged a motionless figure down the hall.
"The cellar,"
Franco ordered.
*One of the men nodded.
The bloody trail on the floor disappeared behind the next door. You swallowed hard.*
"What happened?"
Franco looked at you. His pupils were dark, his gaze more restless than usual.
"He stole from me."
*From the depths of the building came a muffled scream.
Franco didn't react to it.*
"Why are you still here?"
"There's money missing in the books."
"I told you not to work alone at night."
"I'm not alone. Your men are here."
His mouth twisted into a cold smile.
"Exactly why."
*He closed the door. The click of the lock echoed through the room. Franco came slowly toward you. You stood up, but before you could take a step, he grabbed the edge of the desk and hurled the heavy office chair against the wall.
The wood splintered. You flinched.*
"Three years,"
he growled.
"For three years I've been watching other men look at you."
"You're drunk."
"Not drunk enough to forget who you belong to."
*You backed away until your back hit the wall.
Franco followed you. One hand slammed against the stone beside your head, the other closed firmly around your hip. His body trapped you.*
"I don't belong to you."
His gaze grew even darker.
"Every man who also believed that regrets it now."
"You can't just hurt people because they talk to me."
"Yes, I can."
His answer came without hesitation.
"I can hurt them because they look at you. I can break their hands because they touch you. And I can make them disappear if they think they can take you from me."
*Another scream came from the cellar.
This time louder. Franco leaned toward you.
You should have said it. But behind his anger lay something else. Something you had recognized in his eyes for years. A sick, destructive obsession.*
*Your fingers closed around his wet shirt.
With that, his last control shattered.
He kissed you hard, almost angrily. As if he wanted to punish you for making him wait three years. As if he had to prove to himself that you really stood before him and wouldn't disappear again.*
That night, Franco took what you had denied him. He took you hard against the wall, thrusting into you brutally while the screams of the other man in the cellar grew more desperate. He accepted every concession you gave him with an obsession that showed you how dangerous his feelings truly were.
*The next morning, he was the same again.
Cold. Controlled. Unreachable.
When you entered his office, he was signing documents without looking at you.*
"The reports for Milan need to be ready by Friday."
You waited. But he said nothing more.
"Is that all?"
His hand paused briefly.
"What else would it be?"
The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit.
"Nothing."
*You left his office.
In the following weeks, Franco didn't speak a single word about that night. Nevertheless, his obsession grew worse. When a security guard placed his hand on your back as you got out of the car, Franco broke his arm in front of your eyes. You heard the crack of the bone. The man sank to the floor screaming.
Franco knelt beside him and grabbed him by the hair.*
"Touch her again,"
he said calmly,
"and I'll have both your hands cut off."
*Then he turned to you, straightened your disheveled jacket, and walked on as if nothing had happened.
Another employee complimented you during lunch break. That same evening, he was dragged out of the building by four men.
You never saw him again.*
Franco still didn't talk to you. He only watched you. From a distance. Like a predator guarding its property, even though it refused to claim it openly.
*Then your body began to change.
At first you were constantly tired. Then came the mood swings. You cried over a knocked-over coffee and, a few minutes later, threw a file against the wall because an invoice had been filed incorrectly. You could hardly concentrate. The smell of meat made you gag. Franco's cigars, which you had barely noticed before, suddenly drove you out of every room.
Several times you had to run to the bathroom in the middle of a meeting.*
You told yourself it was stress. Maybe a cold. A virus. But when the symptoms still hadn't disappeared after eight weeks, you could no longer suppress the truth.
During your lunch break, you went to a pharmacy far enough from the Caprini building. You bought a pregnancy test and hid the box deep in your bag.
*Back at the office, you locked yourself in the bathroom.
Your hands were shaking so badly that you had to read the instructions twice.*
*Five minutes. Five minutes in which you tried not to think about Franco. Not about his hands.
Not about that night. Not about what a child would mean for a man like him.*
When you finally looked at the test, your little world fell apart. Two lines -
Pregnant.
*
You clung to the sink.
This couldn't be true. You were carrying Franco Caprini's child.*
The child of a man who had people tortured while he sat at dinner. A man who had been pursuing you for years without you noticing. A man whose possessiveness already endangered anyone who came too close to you.
*What would happen if he found out the truth?
He wouldn't let you go.
He would have your apartment guarded. Check your friends. Bring your family under control. He would seal every exit until nothing of your old life remained.*
You wrapped the test in toilet paper and threw it deep into the trash can. Then you went back to your desk and acted as if nothing had happened.
*The next morning, you came to work as usual.
You had barely taken off your coat when Franco's right-hand man stood before you.*
"The boss wants to see you."
Your heart skipped a beat.
"Why?"
"He didn't say."
Two men guarded the door to Franco's office. One opened it, but after you entered, it was locked behind you. Franco sat at his desk. In front of him knelt one of his employees. The man's face was bloody. One eye was swollen shut. Two fingers stuck out at an unnatural angle. Franco held a pistol in his hand.
"Please, boss,"
the man whimpered.
"I didn't say anything."
Franco pressed the gun against his forehead.
"You lied. But I'll deal with that later. Get him out of here."
The men grabbed the man and dragged him out. None of them looked at you. When the door closed again, only you and Franco remained. Then he picked something up from the desk.
Your pregnancy test.
Your breath caught. Franco rose slowly.
"The cleaner found it yesterday."
You couldn't say anything. He came toward you. His gaze traveled over your face and finally settled on your belly.
"You've been sick for weeks. You cry. You can't concentrate."
His voice sounded frighteningly calm.
"And now I find this."
He held the test between you.
"Franco..."
"Who is the father?"
The question was quiet. But the violence behind it filled the entire room.
"I..."
"Give me a name."
His fingers closed around your chin and forced you to look at him.
"I'll find out which man touched you. I'll cut him open in front of your eyes and make sure he lives long enough to regret every single mistake."
His grip tightened.
"Was it someone from this building? One of my men? That little bastard from the legal department?"
You shook your head. Franco grabbed the desk behind you and swept all the documents to the floor with a single motion. Glass shattered. The pistol fell among the files.
"You're carrying another man's child!"
*he roared.
For the first time since you'd known him, Franco Caprini completely lost control. He punched the wall with his fist. Blood immediately ran over his knuckles, but he didn't seem to notice. Then he turned back to you.*
His face was full of anger, jealousy, and an obsession that had wiped out every rational thought.
"Tell me who he is."
*You stared at his injured hand.
At the gun between your feet.*
*Franco didn't know it was his child.
And you didn't know whether the truth would soothe his rage or make you his prisoner forever.*
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