Chapter 2 - THE MORETTI LULLABY
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as I looked from the crying baby up to the imposing figure of Luca Moretti. A request like that from a customer was unheard of, but a request from this customer felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.
“Sir, I’m on the clock,” I stammered, casting a frantic glance back toward the kitchen pass where Greg, my manager, was watching us with eyes the size of dinner plates.
“Hold him,” Luca repeated. It wasn't a command spoken in anger; it was an urgent plea wrapped in gravel and smoke.
I wiped my hands nervously against my apron, reached down, and slid my arms beneath the infant's shoulders. The moment Luca released his grip, Leo practically leaped into my arms. He buried his tiny face directly into the crook of my neck, his little body shuddering with ragged, exhausted hiccups.
He didn't just calm down—he surrendered entirely.
Within ten seconds, his frantic cries turned into soft, rhythmic snuffles. Within thirty, his fist had curled tightly around the collar of my white work shirt, his thumb tucked into his cheek as his long eyelashes fluttered shut.
A deafening silence hung over Table Twelve. The two bodyguards standing post nearby exchanged bewildered, terrified glances.
“He hasn't slept more than twenty minutes at a time since his mother passed six months ago,” the older gentleman at the table whispered softly. His name was Donato, Luca’s senior advisor. “He doesn't let anyone touch him. Not nannies, not doctors... no one.”
I felt the heat rising up my neck under Luca’s relentless, calculating stare. He was studying me as if I were a puzzle he couldn't solve, his dark eyes tracking the exact line where his son’s tiny hand gripped my clothes.
“What is your full name?” Luca asked softly.
“Avery. Avery Vance.”
“Where are you from, Avery?”
“South Philly,” I replied, shifting my weight slightly to support the warm, heavy bundle in my arms. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”
Luca leaned back in his leather chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. The scar running along his cheek caught the dim ambient light of the dining room. “You have no fear in your eyes when you look at me. Most people in this city shake when I walk into a room.”
“Most people in this city probably don't have three months of back rent due and a landlord who turns off the hot water on Tuesdays,” I retorted before my brain could filter my mouth. “I don't have the energy to be terrified of you, Mr. Moretti.”
One of the bodyguards let out a muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Luca raised a single dark eyebrow, a faint, dangerous smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Honesty. That’s rare around here,” Luca said smoothly. He gestured to the empty chair beside him. “Sit.”
“I really can’t—”
“Sit down, Avery.”
I sat carefully on the edge of the plush velvet chair, holding Leo as if he were made of delicate glass. The baby let out a long, peaceful sigh, his little mouth opening slightly against my chest.
For the next forty-five minutes, the most feared man in Pennsylvania’s underground empire didn't discuss syndicate business, territory wars, or hitmen. He watched me nurse his son through his first deep sleep in months. When my shift finally ended at midnight, Greg didn't even dare hand me my closing tasks. He just handed me my purse with shaking hands.
I walked out the rear entrance into the brisk autumn air, wrapping my faded coat tight around my shoulders. The alleyway was dark, save for a single flickering streetlight.
Suddenly, a heavy black SUV pulled up along the curb, its tinted windows gliding down without a sound.
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Luca was sitting in the back seat, the door swinging open automatically.
“Get in, Avery,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the chilly wind. “We need to talk about your new job.”
