Secret Babies for the Mafia King (Forbidden Silver Foxes #15)

Chapter 1

ANNA

The silence in the car is the kind that makes my skin crawl.

My mother sits beside me, hands folded in her lap, fingers laced so tight her knuckles are white. My father stares out the window like the passing streetlights hold answers he can’t find anywhere else. Neither of them has said a word since we left the house twenty minutes ago.

I smooth down the black cocktail dress I’m wearing, the one my mother insisted I put on tonight. Too formal for a business dinner, I told her. She just pressed her lips together and handed me the jewelry box with my grandmother’s pearls.

“How bad is it this time?” I ask now.

My father doesn’t turn from the window. “We’ll handle it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Anna.” My mother’s voice is quiet, strained. “Please.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek and look away.

We’ve had these meetings before. Creditors, investors, men in expensive suits who smell like cigars and old money.

Men who smile with too many teeth and talk about restructuring like it’s a favor.

I stopped asking questions months ago because the answers were always the same.

We’re managing. We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.

But I do worry. I have two four-year-olds at home with a nanny who costs more than we can afford, and a family shipping company that’s bleeding money faster than we can pump it back in. I worry all the time.

The car slows, turns into a circular driveway lined with lanterns. The building ahead is massive, all white stone and arched windows glowing with warm light. Too fancy for a business meeting. Way too fancy.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“The Volkov Estate,” my mother says. “It’s private.”

Private. Right. Because men like the ones we owe money to don’t conduct business in boardrooms. They do it in mansions that probably have their own zip codes.

The driver opens my door, and I step out onto smooth pavement. My heels click as I walk toward the entrance, my parents flanking me on either side. My father’s hand is on my elbow, steering me forward like I might bolt if he lets go.

The doors open before we reach them. A man in a black suit nods at us and gestures inside. We follow him down a hallway with marble floors and paintings that look like they belong in museums. The air smells like fresh flowers and something else. Something expensive I can’t name.

Then we turn a corner, and I stop walking.

There’s an altar at the end of the room. White flowers everywhere with chairs arranged in neat rows and an officiant in formal robes standing beside a tall man I don’t recognize.

“Is this a wedding?” I turn to my parents, my voice sharper than I intend. “Why are we at a wedding?”

My mother’s face crumples. My father won’t look at me.

“Viktor,” the man at the altar calls out. His voice is deep, controlled. “Svetlana. And this must be Anna.”

He’s watching me. Green eyes that don’t blink, silver-streaked hair swept back from a face that’s all sharp angles and cold authority. He’s older than me by at least fifteen years, maybe more. Tall. Broad-shouldered in a perfectly tailored black suit.

And I know him.

The air goes thin in my lungs.

Five years ago. A hotel bar in the city. My friend Lina dragging me out for a drink after a terrible week. I’d worn a red dress that was tighter than anything I normally wore, ordered something fruity I didn’t finish, and caught the attention of a man sitting alone at the bar.

He looked at me like I was something he could buy. I was too tipsy and too reckless to care. We went upstairs. The sex was intense, almost brutal. He didn’t ask my name. When I woke up, he was gone.

Six weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.

I tried to find him. Went back to the hotel, asked questions, followed leads until I learned his name and exactly who he was. Someone dangerous, and connected to the kind of people my family owed money to. One who would trap me in a world I wanted nothing to do with.

So I kept the twins and kept my mouth shut.

And now he’s standing at an altar, watching me like I’m a stranger.

He doesn’t recognize me.

“Anna.” My father’s voice pulls me back. “We need to talk.”

“No.” I take a step back. “No. Whatever this is, no.”

My mother grabs my hand. “Please. Just listen.”

“Listen to what? You brought me to a wedding without telling me. Whose wedding is this?”

My father finally looks at me, and the expression on his face makes my stomach drop.

“Yours,” he says.

The word hits me like cold water.

“You’ve lost your mind.” I yank my hand free from my mother’s grip. “Both of you. I’m leaving.”

“Anna, wait.” My mother steps in front of me, blocking my path. Her eyes are red-rimmed, wet. “We don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not this time.” My father moves beside her, his voice low and urgent. “The debt is too big. We’ve tried everything. This is the only way to save the company. To save all of us.”

I look past them at the man still standing by the altar. He hasn’t moved. Hasn’t spoken. Just watches with the kind of patience that makes my skin prickle.

“You’re selling me,” I say flatly.

“We’re securing your future.” My mother’s voice cracks. “And Mila’s and Alexei’s. He’s offering protection, Anna. Security. The twins will have access to everything they need. Education, safety, a real future.”

“They have a future with me.”

“Do they?” My father’s tone turns hard. “What future can you give them when we lose everything? When the creditors come for the house? When there’s nothing left?”

“You want me to marry a stranger to save your company.”

“To save our family,” my mother corrects. “The documents are already signed. The agreements are in place. If you walk away now, we lose everything. The house, the company, the accounts. Everything.”

I stare at her. At both of them. “You signed documents without telling me?”

“We had no choice,” my father says again.

“Stop saying that.” My voice rises, echoes in the high-ceilinged room. “You always have a choice. You just made the one that was easiest for you.”

The man at the altar finally speaks. “Your parents are correct. The agreements are finalized. You can refuse, of course. But the consequences will be immediate.”

His voice is the same as it was five years ago. Deep, smooth, with an edge that suggests he’s used to being obeyed. I remember that voice in my ear, telling me exactly what he wanted.

I force myself to look at him directly. “And if I refuse?”

“Kestrel Maritime will be liquidated by the end of the month. Your family’s assets will be seized to cover outstanding debts. Your parents will be left with nothing.” He pauses. “Your children will be left with nothing.”

“This is insane,” I say, but the fight is draining out of me. I can hear it in my own voice.

My mother steps closer, her hands reaching for mine again. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know it’s not fair. But he’s offering us a way out. A real way out. The twins will be protected. They’ll have resources, education, opportunities we can’t give them anymore.”

“I don’t even know him.”

“You’ll learn,” my father says. “People marry for worse reasons.”

I want to scream. I want to run. I want to grab my parents by the shoulders and shake them until they see how completely insane this is.

But I don’t.

Because they’re right.

I have two four-year-old children who depend on me.

Who need stability and safety and a future that doesn’t involve watching their grandparents lose everything.

I’ve been living in my parents’ house because I can’t afford my own place.

I’ve been working part-time jobs that barely cover the nanny’s salary.

I’ve been holding on by my fingernails for four years, and I’m so tired.

And this man, this stranger who doesn’t even remember me, is offering a way out.

I hate him for it. I hate my parents for doing this. I hate myself for even considering it.

But I’m considering it.

“What do you get out of this?” I ask him.

“Control of Kestrel Maritime,” he says without hesitation. “Legal authority over your family’s assets. A legitimate public image.” He tilts his head slightly. “And a wife.”

“A business transaction.”

“Yes.”

At least he’s honest.

I look at my parents one more time. My mother is crying now, silent tears sliding down her face. My father looks ten years older than he did this morning.

“If I do this,” I say slowly, “the twins are off-limits. You don’t touch them. You don’t involve them in whatever business you’re running. They stay out of it.”

Something flickers in his expression. Amusement, maybe. “They’re part of the arrangement. Their security is guaranteed.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m not a monster, Anna. I have no interest in harming children.”

“That’s not a yes.”

He steps forward, closing the distance between us. Up close, he’s even taller than I remembered. His eyes are the same. Cold. Calculating. “Your children will be protected under my household. They will want for nothing. You have my word.”

His word. Like that means anything.

But what choice do I have?

I take a breath. Another. “Fine.”