Chapter 3
The decree lingered in the sunlit study, sending an electric shock through the entire room.
Clara remained on her knees on the cold marble floor, her trembling hands still resting on Mia’s shoulders, her mind completely paralyzed. She looked from Vincent’s amused, bearded face up to Renzo, who was frantically wiping a tear of suppressed laughter from his eye, and then back down to her daughter. Clara was convinced she was dreaming, or worse, that the powerful Mafia lord was employing a dark, sarcastic prelude before throwing them out onto the streets of New York.
Mia, however, took the announcement with complete, absolute seriousness.
She uncrossed her tiny arms, smoothed down the layers of soft pink tulle on her pastel-blue princess dress, and nodded her head in firm approval, her pink-and-blue hair ribbons swaying around her high bun.
"Okay!" Mia announced cheerfully. "I am the boss now!"
Vincent let out a low, dark chuckle—a smooth, handsome sound that resonated deep in his chest—and stood up smoothly to his full, imposing height. He adjusted his fitted black dress shirt, smoothing his lapels over his dark burgundy pocket square, his silver wristwatch gleaming under the crystal chandelier.
He turned his piercing dark eyes toward Renzo, his sharp jawline setting into a posture of dry, commanding humor.
"Renzo," Vincent ordered smoothly.
"Yes, Boss?" Renzo replied, stepping forward quickly and struggling to keep his face composed.
"Cancel the eleven o'clock security briefing with Captain Torrio," Vincent commanded, gesturing toward the tiny three-year-old girl standing by his boots. "My new boss needs to review the estate operations first."
Clara’s breath caught in her throat. "Mr. Castalano, please... she's only three years old! You don't have to—"
"Quiet, Clara," Vincent interrupted gently, looking down at the terrified maid with a calm, unreadable gaze. "Your daughter has more courage than half the captains on my payroll. From this moment on, when she is in my study, she holds supreme authority. Go back to your duties."
Before Clara could form another word, Vincent reached down with his massive, tattooed hand. He didn't pick Mia up roughly; instead, he gently cupped her tiny elbow, guiding her over to the cream-colored velvet sofa. He sat down and lifted the three-year-old girl onto a thick, plush velvet cushion right beside him, elevating her so she sat at eye-level with his mahogany desk.
Mia sat up straight on the velvet cushion, her cream-colored shoes dangling inches above the polished floorboards, her pastel-blue dress spreading around her like a floral cloud. She picked up a heavy gold fountain pen from Vincent's desk, holding it like a royal scepter, and fixed her dark brown eyes on the double doors.
Ten minutes later, the double doors opened.
Stepping into the study was Captain Frank Torrio—a broad-shouldered, ruthless syndicate lieutenant in a dark suit, known across Brooklyn for his violent temper and iron grip over the shipping docks. Torrio had come to report on a territorial dispute with a rival crew, his face set in a stern, aggressive frown.
However, as Torrio walked across the marble floor toward the desk, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Sitting behind the grand mahogany desk was Vincent Castalano, resting his chin on his tattooed hand, looking utterly relaxed. Sitting directly to Vincent's right on an elevated velvet cushion was a three-year-old girl in a blue-and-pink princess dress, holding a gold pen, staring at Torrio with an intensely exaggerated, comical scowl.
Torrio blinked in sheer, unadulterated confusion, his aggressive posture instantly deflating. "Uh... Boss? Is this a bad time?"
Vincent leaned back in his leather chair, his dark eyes sparkling with dry, wicked amusement as he gestured toward Mia.
May you like
"Speak quietly, Torrio," Vincent warned in a low, dangerous rumble. "The new boss doesn't like loud noises. State your report."
Torrio looked at the terrifying crime lord, then at the tiny girl in pink tulle who raised one golden-brown eyebrow at him in perfect imitation of Vincent. The ruthless captain swallowed hard, clearing his throat nervously, completely thrown off his game as he began stumbling through his financial figures, terrified of offending either the Mafia king or the tiny toddler sitting beside him.
