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MidReal Story
The Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby
Scenario:I never thought a one-night stand with my boss would turn into this. Getting pregnant wasn’t part of the plan, and neither was finding out he’s the heir to a powerful mafia family. Leaving my job as a stripper was the least of my worries—now I’m engaged to a man I barely know.
Christian is fearless and outspoken, the complete opposite of my calm, calculated approach. When he insisted on a fake engagement to protect me and the baby, I had no choice but to agree. Now, I’m trying to navigate his dangerous world, pretending to fit in with his luxurious life while he battles to keep his family safe.
The rules were simple: keep it fake, don’t fall in love, and keep the baby out of harm’s way. But can things go as expected?
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Giuliana Whitney
stripper and mother, relationships with Christian and the baby, petite with curly brown hair, cautious and resourceful.
Christian Moretti
mafia heir and father of Giuliana's child, relationship with Giuliana and his family, tall with sharp features and dark hair, fearless and protective.
Isabella Moretti
Christian's sister and Giuliana's confidante, relationship with Giuliana and Christian, slender with long blonde hair, loyal and secretive.
My one night stand with my boss never should’ve happened.
But once I saw him moving like a panther across the ballroom, his dark eyes locked on me, I knew I’d be a slave to him.
Just for one night, though.
That’s all I could give him.
Because I can never let myself be tied down.
I’m cautious like that.
And then I got pregnant.
Now he’s pulling me into a world of danger and desire.
Christian Moretti is a Moretti.
His family is mafia.
And they’ll stop at nothing to tie me to him.
Forever.
If you like romantic drama, this series is for you!
* * *
ChristianI never should’ve given my heart to a Moretti.
They’re liars and cheats.
And now I’m carrying his baby.
I can already see the Italian devil in his son’s dark eyes.
Christian Moretti is a thief in more ways than one.
He stole my heart that night.
Now he’s stolen my son.
He’ll do anything to take back what’s his.
Even if it means marrying me…
Giuliana
I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand next to my bed.
I reached over to silence it and saw the time—six-thirty in the morning.
Ugh, who would be calling at this ungodly hour?
I didn’t recognize the number on the screen, but before I could set it back down, a name appeared just beneath the digits.
Christian Moretti.
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the red decline button.
The bright display burned my tired eyes in the dim morning light.
My bed was too warm and too comfortable to leave.
I pressed my face deeper into the pillow and tried to block out the persistent buzzing.
The phone fell silent for a moment before it began vibrating again.
Same number.
I flipped it face-down on the nightstand and pulled my comforter up to my chin.
Morning sickness was already rearing its ugly head, making sleep even more appealing than usual.
The phone vibrated again, and I groaned in frustration.
This was the fifth time it had gone off this morning.
Christian wasn’t going to stop calling until I answered.
I rolled over onto my side, clutching my stomach as another wave of nausea washed over me.
The silk sheets were a nice touch, but they did nothing to ease my discomfort.
They were a gift from Christian after he moved me into this luxurious apartment.
I’d be lying if I said they weren’t nice to slide around on, but I still preferred cotton or flannel or even the Egyptian cotton blend I’d bought for myself.
I stared at the screen again, my finger hovering over the decline button.
He’d call back again and again until I answered.
The last time I ignored his calls, he showed up at my door with his security detail in tow.
I could still picture him standing in my living room, looking like a dark angel in his black suit and sunglasses, his gun strapped to his hip. He hadn’t said a word.
He just stood there with his arms crossed and glared at me until I hung up the phone.
Then he’d informed me that he would never let me ignore him again before turning on his heel and leaving without another word.
I couldn’t risk that happening again.
Not now that I was pregnant and more vulnerable than ever before.
With a resigned sigh, I finally answered the call.
"Giuliana," Christian's voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it that made my heart race.
"What do you want, Christian?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
"I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. I’ll be at your door in twenty minutes."
He hung up before I could respond.
I tossed my phone onto the bed and dragged myself out of the warm sheets.
I knew better than to try and argue with him.
Christian wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he’d keep calling until I relented.
Besides, I needed a shower.
The morning sickness was making me feel like crap, and maybe the hot water would help settle my stomach.
I trudged into the bathroom and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray.
It did nothing to ease my churning stomach or racing thoughts.
I washed my hair and body as quickly as possible, then wrapped myself in a plush towel and stepped out onto the cool tile floor. My stomach churned again, and I leaned against the vanity as another wave of nausea washed over me.
I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves.
I couldn’t let Christian see how much this pregnancy was affecting me.
He’d use it against me somehow, try to take advantage of my weakness.
I finally felt well enough to continue getting ready, but my legs still felt like jelly beneath me.
I braced myself against the wall as I made my way back into the bedroom.
Christian had filled my closet with designer clothes after I moved in here, but I still preferred to wear jeans and a t-shirt most days.
The expensive fabrics felt foreign against my skin, and I didn’t like how they made me look. The clothes were all too fancy for someone like me—a stripper from the wrong side of the tracks who’d gotten pregnant after a one-night stand with her boss.
But Christian insisted that I dress like his fiancée, so I wore them anyway.
The fake engagement was another thing he’d insisted on after he found out about the baby.
He said it would keep me safe from his family’s enemies, but I knew it was also a way for him to exert control over me.
I slipped on a pair of black leggings and a long-sleeved shirt before pulling my long hair up into a ponytail.
My eyes were still puffy from lack of sleep, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now.
I applied some lip gloss and mascara before heading into the living room. My phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and I rolled my eyes in frustration as I picked it up.
Another text from Christian: Car’s waiting downstairs.
I sighed and typed back quickly, "I'll be down in a minute."
As I grabbed my coat, the doorbell rang, and I froze.
"Giuliana, it's me," Christian's voice came through the intercom, calm but insistent.
I grip the door handle, my fingers trembling against the cold metal.
When I pull it open, Christian fills the doorframe in his tailored black suit, a stark contrast to my casual attire.
His dark eyes scan me from head to toe, lingering on my still-flat stomach.
Without waiting for an invitation, he steps inside, his leather shoes clicking against the hardwood floor.
The scent of his cologne - spicy and expensive - fills my space.
He reaches for my arm, but I step back, maintaining distance.
"We need to discuss the engagement announcement," he says, pulling an envelope from his jacket.
My stomach lurches, and this time it's not from morning sickness.
"Christian, I'm not ready for this," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
"You don't have a choice, Giuliana. The announcement goes out today."
I reach for the envelope, my fingers trembling, but he holds it just out of reach.
His dark eyes lock onto mine, and he steps closer, using his height to intimidate me.
I stand my ground, my jaw clenched.
"Let me see what you've written," I demand, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.
After a moment of tense silence, he hands over the envelope.
I pull out the thick cream paper and unfold it.
The words blur on the page at first, but as my vision clears, I read the formal announcement of our engagement.
It describes a romantic proposal in a quaint Italian restaurant, our love blossoming over candlelight and fine wine.
It mentions our joy about the baby and our plans for a spring wedding.
My head spins as I read the lies printed so elegantly on the page.
I crumple the paper in my fist and look up at Christian.
His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with anger at my defiance.
He steps closer, until his chest almost touches my shoulder.
I can feel the heat of him through his suit, smell the expensive cologne on his skin.
My stomach rolls again, and I fight the urge to back away.
Not this time.
I won't give in to him so easily.
He reaches for me, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.
I try to pull away, but his grip is firm as he pries the paper from my hand.
Without a word, he walks over to my kitchen counter and smooths out the wrinkled announcement.
He presses down on it with both hands, as if he's trying to make sure it can't be crumpled again.
I watch him, frozen in place, as he steps back and looks at me.
"Giuliana, this is for your protection," he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Protection or control, Christian? Because it feels like the latter."
The doorbell's chime makes my head snap toward the entrance.
Before either of us can move, the door flies open and Mia barges in, her waitress uniform still on from her morning shift.
She stops short at the sight of Christian, her usual smile faltering.
I see her eyes dart to his hand still gripping my wrist, then to the crumpled paper on the counter.
Christian releases me slowly, straightening his jacket as he turns to face her.
The tension in the room thickens as Mia steps forward, keys jingling in her hand.
"We're going to brunch," she says, her voice firm and leaving no room for argument.
I reach for my black wool coat hanging by the door, my fingers still trembling slightly as I slip it on.
The weight of Christian's stare burns into my back while I fumble with the buttons.
Mia stands firm between us, her waitress apron still dusted with pancake flour.
When I finally grab my purse from the entry table, Christian steps forward and catches my elbow.
"This isn't finished," he says, his voice low and controlled.
I turn to meet his dark eyes, the muscle in his jaw twitching.