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My Five Thousand Dollar Don Novel Cover

My Five Thousand Dollar Don

Mistaking her incredibly fit one-night stand for a high-end escort, a jewelry designer leaves behind a five-thousand-dollar tip and her business card. She assumes their passionate encounter is a closed chapter. However, her conservative, overprotective brother Julian spots a bite mark on her neck and immediately orders a hunt for the mysterious man. When a private investigator traces the surveillance footage, the truth emerges: her supposed escort is actually Ronan Cain, the most feared mafia Don on the East Coast.
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Chapter 2

I tiptoed in through the side door of the Prescott family mansion, heels in hand.

If I could just make it back to my room, I'd be safe.

Just as I reached the foot of the stairs…

“Stop.”

Julian's icy voice shattered the silence of the living room.

I froze in place.

Busted.

I turned, pasting on an innocent smile. “Good morning, Julian. I just spent the night at a friend's house.”

“I wish I could believe that.” He slammed his glass on the table, the crack echoing my own splintering nerves, and then strode toward me.

Before I could even step back, he had me by the wrist.

His razor-sharp gaze swept over me, finally landing on the bite mark on my collarbone.

Julian's eyes narrowed to a slit.

“What is this?” he demanded, his voice dangerously tight. “Cordelia! Who did this to you?!”

His roar nearly blew the roof off.

My mind went blank.

What could I say? Tell him I hired an escort for five grand? Admit I’d had the time of my life?

Impossible. Julian would have the man killed, and our family's reputation would be ruined because of me.

I had to play dumb.

“I don't remember.”

I lowered my head and squeezed out a few tears. “I drank too much. My head was spinning, and I woke up in a hotel.”

I hoped I could bluff my way through.

But I'd severely underestimated Julian's talent for jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

“Drank too much? Don't remember?” His face darkened like a storm. “You mean, you were drugged!”

He spun around and kicked an antique chair, sending it flying. “How dare someone drug a Prescott! The audacity of that bastard!”

He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for his head of security. “Lock down the block. Check every hotel's surveillance footage. Find the bastard who did this. Tear this city apart if you have to, but find him!”

I was stunned.

“Julian! There's no need to make such a big deal out of this!” I lunged for the phone. “Listen, it's not that serious. I was willing!”

“Shut up!” Julian pulled me into his arms, his eyes welling with tears. “Cordelia, don’t be afraid. I know you’re traumatized and scared to admit what happened.”

“But I will never let you suffer any shame!”

I tried to protest, but he wouldn't listen.

“Get the car ready! We're going to the gala! I will make that bastard pay a terrible price!”

The Rolls-Royce sped toward the charity gala.

Julian was on his phone, frantically calling in favors and mobilizing his network.

I huddled in the back seat, my heart racing.

Things were escalating fast. All I'd wanted was a secret fling, and now it was a city-wide manhunt.

My hand trembled as I took out my phone.

A financial news alert popped up.

The headline read: [Mysterious Cain Family Don, Ronan Cain, Makes a Rare Appearance]

I clicked on the photo. It was a candid shot of a man in a black coat, his sharp profile radiating a cold, unapproachable aura that seemed to cut right through the screen.

Ronan.

My world tilted on its axis.

The man from last night, the one I had called “baby,” the one I thought was just a one-night stand…

Was a Mafia Don?

The legendary Ronan Cain, who had ruthlessly seized power at a young age and was known for his cold-blooded methods?

I wasn’t just in trouble. I was in monumental, world-ending trouble.

Not only had I slept with a kingpin of the underworld, but I had also insulted him with a paltry tip!

Worst of all, my brother was now hunting him down for allegedly raping me.

I was practically digging my own grave.

“We're here.” The car stopped in front of the gala hotel.

Julian threw the door open, his face a mask of righteous, big-brotherly fury, and my heart plummeted.

Countless reporters swarmed us like sharks smelling blood.

The doors to the grand ballroom were violently thrown open, and Ronan strode in with his men.

His gaze swept across the hall, finally locking onto me, cowering in a corner.

He walked up to me and slammed the cash and the crumpled business card on the table, the sound echoing through the room.

He leaned in close, his impossibly perfect face just inches from mine, his warm breath fanning across my skin.

“Five thousand dollars?”

His laughter was ice-cold, his dark eyes glinting with a deadly amusement.

“Is that all you think I'm worth?”

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