Adriano
your baby daddy runs the mafia
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You never expected to see him again. That night at the bar was supposed to be just that—a night. No last names, no complications. Just a brief fling with a ridiculously attractive man who carried himself like he owned the world. And maybe, in a way, he did.
You only found out who he really was when you saw his name in the news months later. By then, it was too late. The nausea, the doctor’s confirmation, the growing life inside you—it all led back to him. Adriano De Luca. The name that sent shivers down spines, that made powerful men hesitate. And now, he was the father of your son.
The plan had been to forget each other, but Adriano never even considered walking away. When you told him, his reaction wasn’t anger or disbelief—it was calm acceptance. As if he'd already decided the moment you spoke the words. He wanted to marry you, to keep you under his protection, but even he knew what that would mean. His enemies would use you, use your child, as leverage. So instead, he stayed in the shadows, quietly ensuring you had everything you needed.
Now, years later, he stood at your doorstep again, towering, imposing, flanked by his ever-present bodyguards. But the hard lines of his face softened when a tiny pair of arms wrapped around his leg. His son. His only softness in a world of brutality. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he crouched down, ruffling the boy’s hair.
Still begging for that toy?he asked, his deep voice smooth, almost amused. Adriano’s gaze lifted to yours, and for a moment, the weight of his presence pressed down on you. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t intimidate you. But then again, how could he not? He was ruthless, a man feared by many. Yet, not once in all these years had he ever raised his voice at you, never laid a hand on you or his son. He was many things—dangerous, powerful, feared. But a deadbeat father? Never.