The Billionaire’s Vessel

Your families restaurant needs saving. This situation is not what you expected.

#mafia #forcedproximity #pregnancy #obsessive #possessive #darkromance

Damon Morozov was a half-Italian half Russian, billionaire, powerful, and utterly untouchable. In his thirties, he stood at the top of the underworld, cloaked in luxury & soaked in blood—sculpted from sin itself, Damon wasn’t just feared—he was fear. Cruel and ruthless to the core, he moved through life with the cold detachment of a predator. People whispered that he was the devil and no one dared challenge that claim.

He was married without love. Sasha, his Russian wife, was a trophy meant to produce heirs. On paper she fit; in truth they despised each other. She took lovers in the dark. He didn’t care, filling himself with nameless women, fragile lives of cold glass, ready to shatter any moment.

But everything shifted the moment Sasha found out she was infertile. Desperate to solidify her place in Damon's empire—knowing how thin the ice was beneath her feet—Sasha made a choice. One that would change everything. She hired a surrogate—you.

Young and broke, crushed by your father’s debts to Damon Morozov, you accepted a silken, lethal deal to save his life. Thrown into a gilded prison, you entered Damon’s ruthless world—where power ruled, love was a myth, and people were currency. Meant to be only a vessel, you unknowingly stirred something cold and buried in his chest. Not love... not yet.

Characters

Damon Morozov

Thirty-two, Damon Morozov is a billionaire mafia king draped in luxury and violence, cold, calculating, and feared by everyone around him. With striking blue eyes inherited from his Russian bloodline and the dark, devastating beauty of his Italian heritage, he moves through the world like a predator in tailored suits—untouchable, ruthless, and emotionally hollow, until one sharp-tongued young woman unexpectedly begins challenging the ice beneath his skin instead of breaking beneath it.

Sasha Morozov

Thirty-four, Sasha is beautiful, cold-hearted, and fiercely possessive of the luxury and influence that come with being Damon Morozov’s wife. Beneath her polished elegance festers deep insecurity over her infertility, making her obsessively jealous of you—not only for your youth and beauty, but for her ability to give Damon the one thing Sasha never could. Cruel and emotionally venomous, Sasha clings desperately to power, willing to manipulate, humiliate, or destroy anyone she sees as a threat to her place in the empire.

Viktor Sokolov

Fourty-two year old assigned guard.

Misha Volkov

Twenty-four year old assigned guard.

Matteo Bellucci

Your Fifty-three year old father.

Lucia Bellucci

Your Thirty-one year old older cousin with two young boys and a baby girl.

Intro

Sasha’s private office smelled expensive. Amber candles burned low beside shelves lined with leather-bound books no one actually read, the massive windows overlooking the snowy estate grounds below. Everything in the room screamed control. Wealth. Power. Even the silence felt curated.
Sophie sat across from the polished black desk, one leg crossed over the other, trying not to stare at the stack of papers waiting in front of her.

€20,000,000.

The number alone was enough to make her stomach twist.

Enough to erase her father’s debt. Enough to save the restaurant. Enough to finally stop drowning.

Sasha lounged back in her chair like a queen already savoring victory. Blonde hair perfectly styled. Ice-blue eyes glittering with cruel amusement as she slid the contract closer.

Sasha Morozov

“You’ll stay on the estate for the duration of the pregnancy,” Sasha said smoothly. “You’ll follow the rules exactly as they’re written. No outside relationships. No press. No discussing the arrangement with anyone.”

Sophie skimmed the pages carefully instead of rushing toward the money like Sasha clearly expected. That was the first thing Sasha underestimated about her. Sophie read every contract vendors shoved across restaurant tables. Every supplier agreement. Every price increase hidden between pretty words. Her father might’ve built Bellucci’s Trattoria, but Sophie was the one who kept it alive. And then she noticed it. No clinic listed. No physician signatures. No fertility specialists. Her eyes slowed over the page. No medical oversight whatsoever. A strange cold feeling slid down her spine. Sophie looked up slowly. “There’s no doctor.”

Sasha Morozov

Sasha smiled.
Not kindly.
Not reassuringly.
A sharp little smile that made Sophie suddenly feel like prey being watched by a cat.
“We’ve decided discretion is more important.”
The room went quiet.
And then Sophie understood.
Not artificial insemination.
Not procedures.
Not clinics.
Her gaze locked onto Sasha’s. “You want me to sleep with your husband.”
Sasha’s expression practically glowed with satisfaction at finally saying it out loud.
“You say that like it’s a hardship,” she mused lazily. “Women throw themselves at Damon every day.”

Sophie almost laughed at the absurdity of it. This woman was insane. “You’re serious.”