Carrying the Mafia Boss's Baby

My head was splitting.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a hotel room bed, with a man sleeping beside me.

When I saw his face clearly, I froze completely.

Clair.

The man in control of Rand Corporation, the real master of this city's underworld, and the first name I'd memorized during my two years undercover.

Blood rushed back from my limbs to my heart, then surged to my head the next second.

I looked down at the suggestive marks on my body as fragments of last night's memories came flooding back.

Company party, champagne, someone handing me a drink, dizziness, heat, someone holding me up through the blur... then this face, so close to mine in the dim hotel corridor lighting.

I actually slept with him...

Cold sweat trickled down my spine.

Rumor had it that Clair was ruthless with every woman who tried to get close to him—none lasted more than three months by his side.

I had to leave before he woke up.

I carefully slipped out of his arm and got out of bed.

Clothes were scattered all over the floor.

I quickly grabbed my jacket, my hands shaking so badly I could barely fasten the buttons.

My underwear was nowhere to be found, but I couldn't worry about that now.

As I picked up my purse, I felt around briefly, made out the shapes of my phone and keys, and didn't dare stay any longer. I pulled open the door and slipped into the hallway.

The moment the door closed, I gasped for air, my legs so weak I could barely stand.

By the time I got back to the apartment, it was already bright outside.

"Susan? You're back?" Cathy came out of the kitchen. She was wearing the T-shirt and shorts I'd just bought her, her long hair casually tied in a ponytail, concern on her face. "Where were you last night? I called you several times."

My heart tightened again.

"Working late," I heard myself say, my voice reasonably steady. "Just crashed on the office couch for the night."

"Working late again?" Cathy frowned, handing me a cup of coffee. "Your company is so exploitative. Wasn't the party enough? They made you work all night, too?"

I took the coffee, the scalding cup burning my fingertips, but it made me feel somewhat real. "Yeah, had some files to handle."

Cathy sat down across from me, curling her legs up on the sofa.

We'd been playing this act for two years—two young women sharing an apartment, close as can be. It explained why we were always coming and going together, why there were traces of another woman's life in my apartment.

It was a perfect cover for undercover work.

But actually, Cathy didn't know my real identity.

She just thought I was an ordinary office worker sharing rent to save money. And she never asked too many questions. That was our unspoken boundary.

"You look terrible," Cathy stared at me. "Go take a shower and get some rest."

She stood up. "Oh, and Susan, thanks for the clothes you bought me. They're really nice. You're always buying me clothes. I feel bad about it."

I smiled faintly. "Don't feel bad. You help me out a lot, too. And please, don't use your credit card to buy me stuff anymore. We don't need to keep score like that."

Last week, when we went shoe shopping together, she'd insisted on paying with her credit card, but I knew things weren't easy for her right now either.

Cathy smiled too. "When I have money, I'll buy you things."