Chapter 2
The sheer audacity of the request hung in the warm, ambient air of the private dining room. One of the closest bodyguards, a massive man with a scarred jaw, reached a heavy hand forward to grasp Lily’s small shoulder and physically remove her from the boss's presence.
Lily did not scream. She did not run. Instead, her natural micro-expressions shifted into pure, instinctual defense. She instantly twisted her small body away from the guard, turning her back to the threat to physically shield the sleeping infant pressed against her chest. She curled her shoulders inward, wrapping her thin arms tighter around Noah, entirely prepared to take whatever physical blow was coming in order to protect her baby brother.
"Stop."
The word was spoken quietly, but it struck the room with the force of a physical blow. Dominic instantly lifted one tattooed hand from the table, his palm facing the guard. He did not look at his men. His piercing gray-blue eyes, usually so cold and unreadable, were locked intensely onto the trembling little girl and the exhausted face of the infant she was shielding.
"Nobody touches them," Dominic commanded. His deep voice was calm, highly authoritative, and entirely impossible to disobey.
The guard froze immediately, taking a rigid step backward and lowering his hands, blending back into the shadows of the room. Dominic slowly lowered his hand, his sharp gaze studying the children with a restrained, highly observant intensity. He took in the frayed edges of Lily's burgundy cardigan, the scuffed tips of her sneakers, and the terrifyingly shallow breathing of the baby in the blue-and-gray blanket. In a world governed by violence, extortion, and calculated cruelty, the absolute innocence and desperation standing before him triggered a deeply buried, fierce protective instinct.
Without breaking eye contact with the terrified girl, Dominic slowly stood up. He pulled the heavy, velvet-lined empty chair beside him outward and gently gestured toward it with his open hand.
"Sit," Dominic said, his tone dropping its intimidating edge, replaced by a quiet, demanding warmth.
From the corner of the room, Rosa Bennett stepped forward. At twenty-eight, the young waitress was pretty, gentle, and incredibly observant. Her dark chestnut hair was styled in a neat low ponytail, and she wore her soft sage-green blouse and fitted black waist apron with professional grace. Having worked for Dominic for years, she knew exactly how to read the silent shifts in his demeanor.
"I will bring fresh plates, Mr. Moretti," Rosa murmured softly, her low black shoes making no sound as she hurried out of the room to gather warm food and milk.
May you like
Lily remained frozen in disbelief. Her small chest rose and fell rapidly, her fair, rosy skin practically translucent under the chandelier light. She looked at the expensive velvet chair, then up at the towering, heavily muscular mafia boss.
Slowly, as the aroma of the warm bread reached them, the tiny baby in her arms shifted. Noah opened his tired eyes and reached one weak, trembling little hand out from beneath the knitted blanket, pointing aimlessly toward the bread basket on the table. The heartbreaking gesture broke Lily's hesitation.
