Wrong Number. Right Don (Sinful Mafia Daddies)

by Natasha L. Black

I don’t know why that surprises me. I didn’t walk into this thinking he’d be anything more than a one-night stand. The best fucking one-night stand I’ve ever had, but nothing deeper than that. Our entire dinner was basically foreplay. I don’t even remember if he told me his last name.

I might become a nun after this.

He moves with ease, like this is routine for him. Like he’s done this a hundred times before. Maybe he has. Maybe he thinks I’m the kind of girl who does this all the time too.

Sergei catches me watching him and smirks, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That good, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I quip. “I’ve had better.”

“Well, malyshka, I hope I’ve proved that not all men are spineless idiots,”

But instead, he steps closer, leaning down until his mouth brushes against mine. It’s soft, fleeting, barely even a kiss. It’s goodbye.

you got laid.” I choke on my coffee. She beams knowingly. “Oh my God, I knew it!” she squeals. “Tell me everything.”

“Don’t think I don’t see that freshly fucked glow.” She gestures at my face,

“Men are an actual disease.”

“Nicole Sullivan, did you sleep with him?”

“I do not look post-sinful.” She cackles. “Oh, babe. You reek of hookup sex. So was it good?”

A few of them are smoking cigars, their movements slow, unbothered.

When I glance back at the group, I swear I see Sergei. The man definitely has the same sharp jaw, the same ice-blue eyes. He looks younger, though. Not by much, but enough to make me second-guess myself.

My stomach tightens when he looks straight at me through the glass. And it’s not just a glance. It’s direct and unwavering, even from across the street and through a crowd of pedestrians and cars.

Because this man is staring at me like he knows me. Like he’s been expecting me. Like I’m not just some random woman sitting at a café, sipping iced coffee and ignoring her best friend’s rants.

There’s danger in the way he studies me—assessing, calculating, deciding his next move.

And when it disappears, s...

that I just witnessed something I wasn’t meant to.

“Shit, Nic.” Her voice is concerned but steady. “Okay, okay. Deep breaths.”

“You sure? Because if you did, I’m marching back to the cafeteria and kicking someone’s ass.”

“It’s just bad nausea. It’s been happening for a couple of days.”

“You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Two lines.

And then I laugh. It’s not a happy laugh. It’s a holy-shit-my-life-is-imploding laugh.

“Hey. No matter what happens, I’m here, okay? Whatever you decide, we’ll figure it out together.”

Sometimes I burst into tears without warning, just thinking about what’s happening. None of this feels fair.

I still don’t know what to do about him or if I should even do anything at all. He has my number, but he hasn’t reached out in six weeks. He’s obviously not thinking about me. Even after the casual way he left, some stupid part of me hoped he would want to see me again. He doesn’t,

“I know you. You’ll try to muscle through this alone like you did for the nursing boards. Lock yourself in a room for two weeks and hope for the best. But you’re not alone, and you don’t have to do this by yourself. You have me.”

“Seventy-two-year-old female, found unresponsive in her home. Signs of a stroke. BP is 190 over 110. Pupils unequal. She was unconscious when we arrived, but started responding to pain stimuli on the way here,” one of the EMTs says as we wheel her into the nearest open bay.

“Where is she? Where the hell is my mother?”

“Where are they taking her?” His voice trembles, equal parts anger and fear. “Where are they taking my mother?”

For a moment, I felt like a child with no idea what to do next.

Then came the biggest shock to my system. The nurse working on my mother the moment she came in was Nicole. Mind-fucking good in bed Nicole.

She jumps into action when there’s a crisis; that’s her job. My world is falling apart, but this is just another night for her. For some reason, that gets under my skin more than it should. My phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me out of the tailspin. I glance

“Your mother is stable, and we’ve completed all the tests. You can see her now.”

“I’ve seen how you work tonight, and you’re the only person in this damn place who’s even bothered to speak to me. I want you to be the one to look after her while she recovers.”

“Not even a million dollars?”

“There are two things I’m always deadly serious about,” I murmur. “My business and my mother’s health. I’m willing to pay you one million dollars, in cash, up front, if you will move into my house and take care of my mother until she’s fully recovered.”

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” I say simply. “I want the best for her. And you’re the best I’ve seen.”

“Two million.” Her head snaps up. “What?” “Two million dollars,” I say. “If that makes the decision easier.”

been hoping for since the moment I found out I was pregnant. Maybe if it came from someone else, someone who wasn’t the father of this baby growing inside of me, I’d be a little less hesitant. But, it’s really all too much.

“I want you there, Nicole.” His voice is low, firm. “You should be the one to take care of her. She deserves nothing but the best, and I truly believe you are the best.”

“The roof. I’ll cover it. Don’t worry about the cost.”

“I’ll get you the money by next week. Get the repairs scheduled.”

I scroll to Sergei’s number and hit call before I can lose my nerve. He answers on the second ring.

“Nicole.” He sounds utterly at ease. So he did keep my number.

“All right, all right. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re a legit millionaire.”

“You see how much he cares about his mom. I’m sure he’d be even more protective of his child.”

“You’re moving in with a hot, enigmatic stranger who’s offered you enough money to buy a small island.” She laughs.