The car ca to a smooth halt, but my heart was anything but calm. I stared out the window, eyes wide at the sheer ’size’ of the villa before us.
’Villa’ felt like an understatent—this was a palace, with sprawling grounds, marble pillars, and an iron gate that scread, ’WE’RE TOO RICH TO CARE ABOUT THE POOR.’
"Wow, Mommy, look at that fountain! It’s HUGE!" Mia squealed beside , her little hands pressed against the window.
Huge was right.
The fountain in the circular driveway had a bronze statue of a man with a lion—because apparently, regular water fixtures weren’t intimidating enough.
The doors opened, and before I could process it, we were ushered into the house. I stood frozen in the middle of the grand living room, taking in the high ceilings, the glittering chandelier, and the polished floors that glead like a mirror.
My own reflection startled . God, I looked terrible. My hair was still a chaotic ss from the morning, my nightdress rumpled beyond salvation, and my bare feet dirty from rushing out of the house without shoes.
I shook my head. ’Focus, Elena.’
"Mommy!" Mia’s little voice snapped back to reality. She tugged on my nightdress, pointing toward the couch. "Uncle Leo’s looking at us!"
Sure enough, there he was, lounging in the corner of the room with the confidence of a man who owned the world—which, given his reputation, wasn’t far from the truth. Leonardo Romano, the city’s most feared mafia boss, was staring at us like he found the situation endlessly amusing.
I instinctively stepped in front of Mia, shielding her. He tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Mia," he said, his voice smooth and deep, "aren’t you going to give a hug?"
Before I could stop her, Mia bolted toward him with all the enthusiasm of a child reuniting with her favorite cartoon character. She threw her arms around his neck, and to my utter shock, he patted her head affectionately.
I crossed my arms, my jaw slack. Here was a man who had probably ordered hits over morning coffee. Whose hands had probably held weapons more often than hugs. And yet, there she was, nestled against him as though he were just another family friend or as she refers to him—best friend.
How could she be so fearless? So comfortable? This man was a mafia boss. A ’MAFIA BOSS’!
"Okay, sweetheart, back to Mommy now," I called out, my voice firr than I intended.
Mia obeyed, skipping back to my side, her curls bouncing with every step. She grabbed my hand, grinning up at like this was the most normal thing in the world.
"She’s bold, just like her mother," Leonardo remarked, his eyes never leaving mine.
I swallowed hard, unsure whether that was a complint or a veiled warning.
Leo leaned forward, his piercing gaze making squirm. "Andre," he said casually, motioning to the Tattooed Guy standing near the door, "show Mia to her new room."
Andre, who I now realized was the Tattoo Guy, stepped forward, his gruff exterior lting into a warm smile as he crouched to Mia’s level. "Hi, princess. I’m Andre. You know, your Uncle Leo told all about your dream room. Want to see it?"
Mia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. "You an the one with the pink walls and the fluffy bed and the—"
Andre grinned. "Exactly like that."
Wait. What?!
I blinked, trying to piece together how any of this made sense. Had Mia... had she been involved in this sohow? Was this the ’surprise’ she’d been hinting at since we got back ho from the park?
"What about Mommy?" Mia asked, clutching my hand.
Andre’s gaze flicked to before returning to Mia. "She’s going to have a grown-up talk with Uncle Leo. But don’t worry; she’ll join you soon."
Mia bead. "Really?! Mommy, can I go?"
I forced a smile, trying to mask my unease. "Go on, sweetheart. I’ll be right there."
Mia hugged tightly, her tiny arms wrapped around my waist. "I love you, Mommy!"
"I love you too, baby," I whispered, my voice catching. I kissed the top of her head before letting her go.
What the hell am I doing here?
As Andre led her away, her giggles echoing down the hall, a single tear slipped down my cheek. I quickly brushed it away, not wanting Leonardo to see.
But before I could dwell on the possibility of him seeing it, Leomardo’s voice broke the mont.
"You look terrible."
I snapped my head toward him, incredulous. "Excuse ?"
He gestured vaguely in my direction, his lips twitching in a half-smirk. "That... whatever you’re wearing. The hair. The whole ’kidnapped single mom’ aesthetic. Not your best look."
My fists clenched. "Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your goons would show up unannounced and drag out of my ho at dawn. Maybe if I’d known, I could’ve prepared a red carpet look instead!"
His smirk widened, and I wanted to slap it off his face. "Fair point. Still, I expected... more."
"More?" I arched a brow. "From what? Your mafia princess fantasy? If you give ten minutes, a hot shower, and so decent clothes, I could maybe throw on sothing sexy enough to impress even soone like you—assuming mafia bosses have standards."
He chuckled, clearly amused. "You’re not afraid of , are you?"
"Should I be?" I shot back, folding my arms. "You tell , Mr. Romano. Why are we here? Why does my daughter have a room in your house? And why do you know most, if not everything, about ?"
He leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze never leaving mine. "You ask a lot of questions for soone in your position."
I took a step closer, ignoring the warning bells in my head. "Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled about being ’in my position.’ So start talking. What do you want from us?"
Just in ti
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