Wanna know what's shittier than your scumbag (ex) husband selling you to a dangerous Russian mafia boss?
I've got the answer... Finding out the condom couldn't handle the intensity of your sordid tango between the sheets with that said Russian mafia boss. Don't get me wrong, the whole one-night stand, steamy hookup thing isn't usually my style. I'm just plain ol' Laura. Bookworm. Vanilla. Boring. I didn't plan on locking lips with him, but God, I couldn't resist. I mean, have you seen the man? Chiseled jaw, smoldering eyes, body built for sin. He's walking, talking temptation in a tailored suit. And when he chased after me from his club, wrapped his designer coat around my half-naked body, and offered me a ride home in his sleek black car, well, let's just say my panties didn't stand a chance. One minute, I'm drowning in those bedroom eyes, his lips devouring mine like a starving man. And baby, I was the all-you-can-eat buffet. The next thing I know, I'm in his arms. Princess carried like a bride towards his penthouse instead. Little did I know that our little foray between the sheets would have life-changing consequences. The broken condom. The two pink lines. The baby growing in my belly. And the daddy? None other than Victor Morozov. Mafia boss. Ruthless kingpin. My baby daddy.
