Page 73 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 5-8

I STARE AT the ridiculous creature curled up and sleeping on my plane. I’m still furious. My blood has been burning, acidic and hot, ever since I discovered my father’s subterfuge. This is something that simply cannot be endured.

This…creature, pregnant with my child.

I never wanted a child, but I am not going to leave my flesh and blood to be torn apart by the wolves of this world. It would be unacceptable.

And I will not allow them to be raised by anyone in this life. I fought hard enough to get away from it. I was trying to rescue Vittoria, but she was…she was so stubborn about it. She was so convinced that she could use our father, and his affection for her, to her own gain.

But there is no winning with Lorenzo Corretti. There never has been.

The only real tragedy is that I didn’t kill him, because I would’ve loved to see his face before I put a bullet in it. The surprise. The betrayal. He knows that I disdain him, and everything that he stands for, but his own pride wouldn’t allow him to kill me. I would’ve found that amusing. If he were killed, not by his paternal love for me, as he has no paternal love for any of his children, not really.

Except possibly Vittoria.

It would’ve been amusing because he never wanted anyone to know that there was dissension in the ranks. And to have him foiled by that would be sweet.

As the plane descends, Lindsay does not stir.

She gave me her biography before she fell into a fitful sleep, but I already knew it. The last two weeks have been spent exhaustively researching all of the circumstances surrounding her, and her agreement to carry my baby.

My baby.

There shouldn’t be a child with my DNA coming into this world.

I’m more than fucked-up.

I’ve no desire to carry on this legacy. This bloodline.

But much like the power vacuum that Lindsay and I were just discussing, this would simply be another vacuum. Either my enemies would take and kill the child, or they would manipulate them. Change them. Turn them into a weapon to be used against me, against the world.

It’s unacceptable either way.

I’m not interested in her attitude. As far as I’m concerned, she’s a vessel. A beautiful one, but insolent, and more trouble than a woman should ever be. She stirs as the plane lands, and as soon as we stop, I move to scoop her up into my arms.

She’s soft, but I can only ponder that for a moment as she immediately slaps me on the shoulder, fighting against my hold.

“Settle down,” I say, and my voice does not cow her, which is something I confess I have not often experienced.

“Keep your hands off me,” she says.

“Cara, I have no desire to have my hands on you. But I will carry you into the house and use my body to shield you if need be.”

“Are you expecting a sniper attack in the middle of the ocean?”

“I don’t discount anything. Security on this island is heightened. I have men stationed here, and they have been keeping watch. But you can never trust anyone, not entirely.”

“Agreed.” The stairs lower, and I carry her down onto the landing strip.

This island is centered in one of the most beautiful regions in the world. The water was a clear, cobalt blue, the trees green and abundant, growing thick on the mountainside, providing cover for the compound that I had built here some ten years ago. It’s as secret as anything can be; not even my father ever knew about it.

There’s a car waiting for us with bulletproof windows.

This place is remote, isolated, tucked into a corner of the world many of my enemies have never been to.

But as I said to her, you can never really trust anyone. I include my own men in that. They are subject to polygraph tests, often. Random searches for bugs and wires are always done. I have been friends with the company that surrounds me since I was a teenager. Since I decided to leave my father’s empire. We’re more mercenaries than organized criminals. Ethical in some ways, depending on how you look at it.

We don’t profit from the death of innocents, though we will kill those who wield power through violence and control. We don’t traffic drugs or humans, though we will traffic weapons—again, to those who lack power and need it.

But everyone has a price, whether it be money or some buried hunger for power. Which is what I assume claimed my right-hand man, Renzo, who disappeared at the same time as my sister.