Bred by the Mafia Monster (Breeding Season 7)

“I want to do whatever it takes to make you safe. Your dad thinks you’re dead, so until the next big get-together, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“I don’t want you to risk your life for me. I’m not worth it.”

He smiled. “Bella, you need to know that you’re worth everything.” He kissed her again. “I will move heaven and earth to make sure you’re protected.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I will kill your father.”

Isabella looked at him. “But what if you can’t?”

“Are you questioning my ability?”

“No. I mean, my dad has a lot of power,” she said. “What if you can never kill him?”

Klaus smiled. “That’s not going to happen. The lies he spread. How much information he knew about what happened. There’s no way he can be saved. Your father will die at my hand.”

“I already gave you my blessing. I will do whatever you need me to do. I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

She smiled. Pressing her head against his, she finally felt at peace. Her father would never love her, and she was starting to accept that, but Klaus was all hers.

“I don’t know what I did to get fucking lucky with you, but I count my blessings, Bella.”

“Klaus?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I’m pregnant?”

His cock twitched inside her and she gasped.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you?” she asked.

“You have no idea how fucking hot it makes me thinking of you pregnant with my child. I want it all with you, Bella. And I’m going to get it.”

“I know you are. I have no doubt.”

Chapter Ten

Klaus entered the banquet hall, and the drone of numerous conversations meant the attention wasn’t on him. Usually, he liked to stay out of the spotlight—not tonight. The beauty on his arm kept quiet. He was surprised she could even walk in those stilettos and skintight red dress. But she was experienced and knew exactly how to command the attention of men. Renzo ensured she knew exactly how to behave tonight.

They proceeded into the center of the grand foyer, the standard place for the initial meet-and-greet at these events. Klaus saw Lastra for brief seconds as guests passed left and right between them. His blood pressure rose, but he played his part. Carmello was standing next to his brother, Nicholas, a big smile on his face for the day of his niece’s confirmation.

His mind was everywhere at once. He factored in the exits, the security, and thought about the collateral damage—especially the ten-year-old guest of honor.

As the people ahead of them said their piece, they continued to move forward. Within minutes, it was Klaus’s turn to congratulate the Lastra family.

“Klaus Accardi. Welcome,” said Nicholas.

“Who is your guest?” asked Lastra, glaring at his date.

This charade would be tricky. No one was supposed to know Isabella was dead except her own father. Was Lastra expecting a grieving or vengeful husband? One thing for certain, Klaus couldn’t reveal the fact she was alive and well if their plan was to be successful.

Nicholas was probably in the dark about the crime. Klaus doubted Isabella’s father would share what he’d done with anyone. The Catholic church would castrate his family name if he’d signed his own daughter’s death warrant.

He was going to use all the information to his advantage. Firstly, pissing off Lastra by moving on from grieving at record speed.

“Veronica,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Where is Isabella?” asked Lastra, staring at him without blinking. The old bastard wanted him to admit her death publicly so he could shame Klaus. Not protecting your own house was the ultimate emasculation.

“She couldn’t make it.”

“Shame,” said Lastra. “No one has heard from her in some time.”

“I’m sure you’re very concerned.”

Lastra shrugged. “She’s married to an Accardi. A match made for peace. What could I be worried about?”

Klaus smirked. “I’m sure you have plenty to worry about. If not, you should.”

He took his date’s arm and led her into the banquet hall. His brother was having a drink at the bar, his eyes on the room. A few of his men mingled with the guests. The atmosphere was tense because he was surrounded by the enemy. Klaus grabbed two champagne flutes, passing one to Veronica.

She licked her lips, continually flirting with him. “Where are we going after the party?” she asked.

“I’m going home to my wife. I don’t know where the fuck you’re going.”

She frowned. “Renzo paid me for the whole night.”

“Then don’t complain,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut and play your role. Don’t disrespect my wife again.”

He’d reluctantly agreed to this charade with one of Renzo’s whores. Klaus liked the idea of making Lastra’s blood boil. With everyone thinking Isabella was still alive, except her father, he’d be feeling the shame of his son-in-law showing up with a mistress.

Even worse, thinking she was dead and believing her husband had moved on without a respectful mourning period. Either way, he was good. Klaus’s only goal was to stir shit up. Lastra could think whatever the fuck he wanted to think.