BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE: PREGNANCY ROMANCE: Billionaire Mafia Boss’s Baby (Mafia Alpha Billionaire Romance) (Contemporary BBW New Adult Romance) Read online

   Copyright 2016 by Piper Sullivan - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

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  Billionaire Mafia Boss’s Baby

  A BBW Pregnancy Romance

  By: Piper Sullivan

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Bonus Book One

  Bonus Book Two

  Billionaire Mafia Boss’s Baby

  Chapter 1

  The music seduced her.

  The rhythm, the cadence, the very sound served to enrapture the soul of Katherine Murphy, who danced with reckless abandon across the illuminated floor of Club Groove; the premiere night club in Clearview, Florida.

  “My heart and soul were made to dance,” she mused in silence, her entire being immersing itself in the hard driving beat of a rhythmic techno tune. “The rest of my body, though? Not so much.”

  Indeed, the curvaceous 29-year-old had the keen suspicion that very few of the Martha Graham dancers sat up nights (on tiptoe, of course) fearing her competition. So instead of striving to be the most agile or gifted dancer on the floor, she instead strove to be the most charismatic; moving with frenetic movements and attempting the execution of silly old dance moves that weren’t even cool at the time of their original execution.

  At least one onlooker, she noted, was enjoying the show. As she launched her fully made form into a dance step that bore a closer resemblance to a spasm of some sort, she heard her moves greeted by a round of deep sonorous laughter, one that teased her senses as she sought to identify its most intriguing source.

  Standing at the edge of the dance floor was a man who seemed like something out of a dream, a tall, muscular vision dressed in a sleek suit of ebony silk with a slick ivory shirt underneath. Even more impressive than his ultra-chic apparel was the bronzed, carved beauty of his flawless masculine face. A visage that boasted sculpted cheekbones, full, moist lips turned upward in an amused smile, and wide dark eyes that seemed riveted to her every move.

  Performing a less than graceful leap that took her a few steps closer to her apparent admirer, Katherine beckoned to him with a cheeky smile, watching with delight as he immediately answered her (rather pathetic, she believed) call.

  Within an instant the handsome stranger stood before her, offering her his hand as he asked, “May I have this dance?”

  Attempting a casual shrug, Kat ran a soothing hand through her long mane of cinnamon brown hair as her rebellious gaze all but devoured his tall muscled form.

  “Oh I suppose so,” she deadpanned.

  Seizing hold of his strong sturdy hand, she stopped for just an instant as a strong current of virtual electricity seemed to pass between them. For a long, timeless moment the couple stared at one another, their gazes holding and locking as their fingers entwined tight.

  Taking control of the situation, her mysterious dance partner swept her up in two strong arms and swept her across the dance floor. Their bodies claiming an immediate rhythm as the music pounded and pulsated around them.

  Katherine wrapped her arms around his strong muscled shoulders and lost herself in his tight embrace, also losing herself in the splendorous essence that was this man.

  She immediately noticed his slick and stylish mode of dress, as denoted by his fine silk suit, his shiny golden watch, and a pair of polished ebony shoes that carried his form with graceful aplomb across the vast expanse of the dance floor. Beyond his posh exterior, though, she detected a rugged animal spirit that truly captured her heed.

  Although a total gentleman who refrained from touching any of her private areas, his strong muscled chest nonetheless pressed tight against her breasts as his bulging arms encircled her waist. His every move proved smooth and catlike as he twirled and swirled her across the floor.

  Their bodies moved together in a flawless rhythm as his hard, trim hips gyrated shamelessly against her own, and she took in her breath as, finally and fully, he dipped her body backward in a graceful arc and stared deep into her eyes.

  “I must know your name,” he whispered against her lips, his deep, melodic voice sending tingles down her spine.

  “It’s Katherine,” she released on a whisper, “Although my friends call me Kat.”

  The man nodded.

  “And just what, Miss Katherine, does a man have to do to become your friend?” he asked her, tone soft and sultry.

  Even as his provocative words made her heart pound in her chest, Kat attempted a casual shrug as she asked in return, “What, do you want detailed step by step instructions or something?”

  The man guffawed outright.

  “I do like your way with words, dear Kat,” he praised her. “I’d quite like to get to know you better.”

  Kat shrugged.

  “Well it would help if I knew your name,” she offered, adding with a playful wink, “Unless, of course, you’d just like me to refer to you as Mysterious Handsome Stranger who does a Mean Two Step.”

  The man chuckled, a sultry, scintillating sound that abated abruptly as he noted the arrival of an unexpected visitor, a tall, silver haired man who appeared at his side with a stern, unsmiling expression.

  His own beam dissolving quickly, her dance partner kept his gaze riveted on her as he asked the question, “Is this important, Doyle?”

  The man nodded.

  “Your attention is needed elsewhere, Sir,” he reported.

  Releasing a pronounced sigh, the man before her pressed his full soft lips to her cheek as he released her body; bowing low before her as he told her, “I’m so sorry, Miss. It seems that my business calls me away.” He paused here, adding as he raised his hand to his full, moist lips for a gentlemanly kiss, “We will see each other again, this I promise you.”

  And with these words, he was gone.

  For a long moment Kat stood motionless on the dance floor, shaking her head from side to side as her fantasy man disappeared into the smothering throng of people that encircled the dance floor.

  “So he doesn’t leave me his name, his number, or as much as an identifying fairy tale glass sneaker behind,” she lamented. “Drat it!”

  Turning with a frown from the center of the dancefloor, Kat walked straight into a brick wall, or, so she found out seconds later, a musclebound, mustached barbarian of a man who looked down upon her with a slight smile.

  “Just so you know, Miss, Mr. Ambrose has covered your bar tab for this evening,” he informed her. “And he encourages you to make a return visit to our club. Soon, if you prefer.”

  Kat grinned.

  “Oh, I prefer.”

  Chapter 2

  Kat came close to regretting her decision the next week
end, as she returned to Club Groove at the side of her friend Cecily, a slender, tanned blonde who looked smashing in a flirty white dress inspired by screen legend Marilyn Monroe.

  “Of course, Cecily would look smashing in a potato sack,” she sniffed, her eyes taking a self-conscious look down the length of her own fully made form, clad as it was in a purple V-necked spandex swing dress that fit and flattered her generous curves.

  The long unbound waves of her cinnamon brown hair framed a face touched up with ruby red lipstick and just a touch of mascara; and while Kat thought that she struck a passing fine figure if she did say so herself, she still felt all but invisible at the side of her glamorous friend; a crony that, bless her, never seemed to eat.

  “At least I’ve never seen her eat,” she mused in silence, adding as she took a big resounding gulp of the no doubt high calorie cherry flavored drink that she had just purchased and was enjoying just fine, thank you very much, “And I certainly don’t see any evidence of it on her hips.”

  And while it was Kat’s connection to her mysterious dance partner that had secured them free admittance into the club that evening, Cecily was the one who seemed to be netting the lion’s share of dance invitations. As evidenced by the short but significant line of males now assembled before her table.

  “Forget a dance card,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes heavenward as her friend took the hand of her first prospective partner while asking the others to sit tight and politely await their turn. “This chicksta needs a billboard.”

  Shifting in her seat, Kat’s languid gaze searched the crowd for some signs of her own dance partner. The man who had so impressed and entranced her just a few days beforehand.

  Although she knew him only by the name Mr. Ambrose, she’d seen the charming, strikingly handsome gentleman every night in her dreams. His deep, sonorous voice echoed endlessly in her psyche as his firm strong hands fixed themselves around her waist and swept her across her dreamscape in a passionate advance.

  “This is madness,” she mused now, shaking her head from side to side as she took a particularly hearty swig of her—um—cherry stuff. “I barely know this man, I don’t even know his first name, but I can’t stop thinking of him.”

  So entranced was she by this Mr. Ambrose, in fact, that she envisioned him bounding to the front of the assembled line that now surrounded their table.

  Her eyes flew wide, and her breath suspended, as she realized without a doubt that the fantasy was real, that the man who inhabited her dreams and notions now stood before her. And blast it if his incredible masculine beauty did not embody and surpass her recollection.

  Dressed this evening in a sleek mahogany silk suit with a white satin shirt underneath, the man’s bronzed, sculpted face and sleek mane of midnight black hair shone brilliantly in the dramatic glow of the club’s low lights.

  The crowd cleared around him as Mr. Ambrose strolled forth with a certain confidence; squaring his broad shoulders as the pool of partygoers, once all too eager to court the lovely Cecily (“And I use the word court very loosely,” Kat mused with a smirk) now dispersed—with the lone exception of a single young man who, with his snide smile, five o’clock shadow and blindingly red coat, seemed stuck eternal in the era of the 1980s.

  “Can’t say that I blame ya, Mr. Ambrose,” the young man spoke, tone low and reverent as he made a broad gesture in the direction of the grinning, blushing Cecily. “She’s a beauty.”

  Ambrose nodded.

  “She is indeed,” he verified politely, adding as he shifted his gaze straight in Kat’s direction, “I, however, am here for her.”

  Grinning broadly at this news, Katherine took the man’s outstretched hand and accompanied him to the dance floor. The surrounding crowd parting like a group of lemmings as they watched the couple with curious eyes.

  “Am I ever glad to see you,” she told her companion, beaming brightly in his direction as the two stopped stock still and faced one another in the brilliant gleam of surrounding strobe lights.

  She took in her breath as her stunning companion swept her up in two muscled arms. Snapping his fingers as a waiting disc jockey, a bored-looking college gent, previously languishing idly at the corner of the dance floor, sprang into action.

  “Play us something romantic Joshua,” Ambrose ordered in a genial tone, all the while never taking his gaze from the woman in his arms.

  Suddenly the air above them brimmed with the sound of a scintillating jazz beat, one followed by the exotic pounding of drums and bongos. The powerful surge of a melodic jazz guitar soon resounded forth into the fray, driving an entranced Kat deeper into the arms of her waiting and most charming partner.

  Sweeping his lady up into a tight but ever gentle embrace, Ambrose swayed and swung her across the floor. Their bodies seeming to merge as a single radiant unit as their feet fell easily into the motion.

  Suddenly he pulled her body flush up against his and leaned her backward in a thrilling, invigorating dip, staring deep into her eyes as he released on a whisper, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Katherine. I’ve just been biding my time until the weekend, when I dearly hoped that you would come back here.”

  Kat nodded.

  “Well I have to say that, just a time or two, you’ve crossed my mind as well. More than a time or two, you annoyingly attractive man you. And I really looked forward to seeing you again, um, Mr. Ambrose,” she deadpanned, adding through gritted teeth, “OK then, Dude, you have to tell me your real name. It royally creeps me out to refer to a date as Mr. So and So. I’m not a 50 Shades gal, know what I’m sayin’?”

  Ambrose threw his bronzed head back, letting loose with a sonorous laugh as he considered these lightly spoken words.

  “Quite the contrary, Miss, I do believe that I would be the submissive in this case,” he teased her, adding with a stately bow, “And if you so wish to know the first name of your personal servant, then I of course shall hasten to supply it. My full name, my dear Kat, is Xavier Ambrose.”

  Surging upward with her in his arms, he twirled her hand high above her head before returning her, slow and easy, to the cradle of his embrace.

  “I hope that you will join me this evening at my private table here at Club Groove,” he whispered, staring deep into her eyes. “It’s called the Champagne Table.”

  Kat grinned.

  “Well as long as that particular table lives up to its name, and I can indeed find lots and lots of that sparkly beverage somewhere in its vicinity,” she told him. “That sounds more than all right with me.”

  Xavier nodded.

  “I’ll order a bottle of my finest bubbly and have it delivered to the table, post haste,” he declared, adding more halfheartedly, “Your friend, of course, is more than welcome to sit with us.”

  Casting a casual glance over her shoulder and in the direction of her table, Kat grinned slightly as she saw that one enterprising young gentleman already had claimed her seat next to Cecily; and that two others stood at her back, just waiting for her to, in all hopes at least, turn and acknowledge their earthly existence.

  “Oh I think that Cecily will be fine. Right now she kind of reminds me of Scarlett O’Hara at the Twelve Oaks picnic, surrounded by about four versions of the Tarleton twins, dressed in assorted leisure suits,” she said, adding in a lower and more serious tone, “Although I would very much like to keep an eye on her throughout the evening. We women often like to stick to the buddy system at bars and nightclubs, even as we roam around throughout the evening.”

  In lieu of a verbal reply, her companion once again snapped his fingers high in the air, this time drawing the attention of a burly, bald headed man who rushed to his side and asked, “What did you need, Boss?”

  Xavier turned to him, squaring his substantial shoulders as his tone hardened and grew more officious in tenor.

  “Mitch,” he directed, pointing a firm finger in Cecily’s direction. “Please keep a close watch over the blonde lady sitting at the ta
ble in the far left corner.”

  Following the direction of his boss’ gesture, the man identified as Mitch grinned like a school boy as he laid his eyes on Cecily.

  “You’re actually paying me to stare at that babe for the rest of the evening?” he asked, his grin melting abruptly in the heat of his boss’ hardened stare. “That is to say, I’d be more than pleased to watch over the lady.”

  Kat nodded.

  “Excellent!” she praised. “Also please let her know where I am, in case she needs anything.”

  Meeting this request with an answering salute, a newly enthused Mitch turned sharply in the direction of Cecily’s table.

  The couple chuckled as the burly, manly-looking guard skipped like a third grader to the corner of the club, leaving them once again alone as Xavier offered his arm to her.

  “And now, my lady,” he declared, gracing her with a dazzling white-toothed smile as she took his arm in hers, “Off to the champagne table.”

  Chapter 3

  Katherine Murphy just had to admit it. Her life circumstances had improved considerably since the earlier part of the evening, when she’d had to share the spotlight with (or, more accurately, surrendered the spotlight to) her glamorous best friend. Now she herself felt like the main attraction, seated as she was before a lace-lined table that boasted on its surface two crystalline flutes and a full magnum of vintage champagne.

  It also didn’t hurt that her dashing date for the evening was hand feeding her succulent samplings of brie on crackers and chocolate covered strawberries.

  “So this is the champagne table?” she asked, taking yet another fortifying sip of prime bubbly before adding, “I guess ownership has its privileges, huh Chief? So tell me, is this club the only business you own?”

  Xavier shook his head.

  “My family actually owns a number of businesses in this community, everything from restaurants to movie theaters to department stores. You could say that my father, Michelangelo Ambrose, is an ambitious man, and after earning a business degree so am I,” he revealed, adding as he seemed eager to change the subject, “Ah, but all of that corporate stuff is so dull. I’d rather hear about you. What do you do for a living?”