1.The first time the Mafia boss’s baby reached for me, I thought he wanted the silver necklace around my throat.

As the weeks turned into months, the line between my professional duties and my personal feelings began to blur in dangerous ways.

It was impossible not to notice the man behind the terrifying reputation. Luca was a brutal boss to his enemies, yes, but to his son, he was fiercely protective. Every evening, no matter how chaotic his business was, Luca returned home by 7:00 PM to sit in the nursery, read Leo a story, and watch him sleep.

And gradually, he started watching me, too.

Late one evening, after Leo had finally fallen asleep, I sat in the estate’s massive library, curled up on a leather sofa with a book. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm orange light across the mahogany walls.

The heavy door creaked open, and Luca walked in, holding two glasses of amber scotch.

He had removed his jacket and holster, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the dark ink of tattoos crawling up his throat. He looked exhausted, yet impossibly handsome.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“It’s your house, Mr. Moretti.”

“Luca,” he corrected, setting one of the glasses on the small table beside me. “When we’re alone, call me Luca.”

I swallowed hard, taking a small sip of the scotch. It burned pleasantly down my throat. “Okay. Luca.”

He sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning his head back against the leather cushion. “You’ve done wonders with him, Avery. The doctor came by today while you were out. He said Leo’s development is back on track.”

“He just needed love,” I said softly. “And stability.”

Luca was silent for a long moment, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. “His mother... Isabella... she didn't want him.”

I held my breath, shocked by the sudden confession.

“She married me for the family name and the money,” Luca continued, his voice dropping into a somber register. “When she got pregnant, she was furious. After Leo was born, she barely looked at him. Then... the Romano family bombed her car in South Jersey four months later.”

“I’m so sorry, Luca,” I whispered, my heart aching for the little boy sleeping upstairs.

“Don't be,” Luca said coldly. “She was leaving me anyway. She had been selling our territory maps to the Romanos for six months before she died.”

The confession hung heavy in the air. The betrayal he had suffered wasn't just corporate—it was deeply personal. It explained why he trusted no one, why his house was a fortress, and why he kept the world at arm’s length.

Luca leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixing onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

“The night you met us at the restaurant,” Luca said softly, “when Leo touched your face... do you know why Donato said ‘Jesus Christ’?”

“No,” I admitted, my pulse quickening. “I’ve wondered about that every day.”

Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn, black-and-white photograph, handing it across the coffee table to me.

I picked it up.

The photo showed a young, smiling woman holding a newborn baby in a hospital bed. She had dark hair, warm eyes, and a small, delicate mole just beneath her left collarbone.

My jaw went slack.

I raised my hand, my fingers brushing against the exact same spot on my own collarbone.

“That was my mother, Elena,” Luca whispered, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion. “She passed away ten years ago. Leo never met her. But when he looked at you that night... he saw her. You have her eyes, Avery. You have her warmth.”

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

Luca stood up slowly, stepping over to my side of the couch. He reached down, his long, warm fingers gently wiping the tear from my skin.

The touch was so electrifying, so full of raw, unspoken tension, that neither of us moved.

“Luca...” I breathed.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. For a fraction of a second, I thought he was going to kiss me.