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

The Moretti estate in Chestnut Hill didn't look like a crime boss’s hideout; it looked like a historic French chateau surrounded by ten-foot iron gates, manicured oak trees, and discreet security cameras tucked into the ivy.

Marco parked my clicking Honda Civic near the four-car garage while Luca led me through the grand stone foyer. The house was silent—too silent for a place so large. High ceilings, marble floors, oil paintings, and expensive furniture sat in perfect, cold order. It lacked the warm, messy clutter of a home with a ten-month-old baby.

“The nursery is upstairs,” Luca said softly, motioning for me to follow him up the sweeping iron staircase.

I carried Leo the entire way. He hadn't stirred once, his cheek pressed firmly against my shoulder.

The nursery was massive, painted in muted grays and navy blue, filled with high-end wooden toys and custom furniture, but it felt empty. A crib sat in the center of the room like an island.

I walked over to the crib and gently lowered Leo onto the firm mattress. The second his cheek left my shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, and his hands opened, searching the air.

“Don't leave,” Luca whispered beside me, his hand hovering near my arm.

I sat down on the soft rug beside the crib, keeping my hand gently resting on Leo’s chest. The baby’s breathing evened out, and his tiny hand reached out to grasp my finger.

Luca pulled up a leather armchair and sat down opposite me. He shed his suit jacket, tossing it over the arm of the chair, and unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons, revealing the dark ink sprawling across his chest. He looked exhausted, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Where is his mother?” I asked quietly, breaking the rule Greg had warned me about.

Luca’s hands froze over his face. He lowered them slowly. His dark eyes fixed on mine in the dim glow of the nightlight.

“Elena died eight months ago,” Luca said flatly. “Complications after birth. Her heart gave out.”

A heavy knot formed in my stomach. “I’m so sorry, Luca.”

“He doesn't remember her,” Luca continued, his voice void of emotion, though his eyes betrayed a deep, buried pain. “He’s had three different nannies since then. None of them lasted. He screams whenever they try to touch him. He knows when someone is being paid to care, and he hates it.”

“And you think he knows I’m different?”

“He hasn't touched another person’s face since Elena died,” Luca said, his eyes dropping to where Leo was clutching my finger. “Not even mine.”

The weight of those words settled into the quiet nursery. I looked at the powerful, dangerous man sitting across from me, realizing that inside this grand fortress, he was just a grieving father drowning in a world he couldn't control.