CHAPTER 5

Alessandra's POV

I knelt on the floor, barely keeping myself from pulling Leo into a hug that would probably scare him. Instead, I just smiled, my eyes burning with unshed tears as he stopped right in front of me.

"Hi, Leo," I said softly, keeping my voice gentle. "Your nanny is resting today, so I’m going to hang out with you for a bit. Is that okay?"

Leo looked at me for a second, then gave a quick nod. "Can we play with the cars?"

"We can play with whatever you want," I replied, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest.

For the next three hours, I forgot about the crushing weight of the Rossi name. We sat on the soft rug in his bedroom, rolling wooden cars back and forth. I listened to his tiny, sweet voice babble about red trucks and fast engines. It was so easy to be with him. Every laugh he let out felt like a piece of my broken soul coming back together. I memorized every detail—the tiny dimple on his left cheek, the way his nose crinkled when he giggled, the exact shade of gray in his eyes.

When lunchtime came, I brought up a tray of chicken soup and sliced apples. He was a picky eater, but I remembered the tricks I’d read about. I turned the apple slices into little boats, making them "sail" into his mouth. He finished the entire bowl.

"You're funny," Leo said, wiping a bit of soup from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I try my best," I said, gently wiping his face with a napkin. "Now, what do you say we take a little nap? Even captains of big ships need to rest."

"But I'm not tired," he mumbled, even as his eyelids began to look incredibly heavy.

"Just lay down for ten minutes," I coaxed, smoothing back his dark hair. "I'll stay right here."

He crawled onto his massive bed, looking so small against the silk sheets and heavy velvet blankets. I sat on the edge of the mattress, softly rubbing his back. Within minutes, his breathing slowed, his tiny chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful rhythm.

I sat there in the quiet room, just watching him sleep. My fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. It was so unfair. He had all the money in the world, a bedroom bigger than my entire apartment, but he was so starved for real affection. Vincenzo loved him, I knew that, but a mafia don’t do hugs. A mafia don don't play cars on the floor.

The door handle clicked.

I jumped, instantly pulling my hand away from Leo.

The door opened slowly, and Vincenzo stepped into the room. He had changed out of his formal clothes and was now wearing a simple grey t-shirt that clung to his broad chest, making him look less like a syndicate boss and more like a regular father. But the intense gravity he carried was still very much there.

He paused when he saw Leo sleeping, then looked at me. He gestured with his head for me to step outside.

My stomach did a nervous flip. I carefully stood up, making sure not to wake Leo, and followed Vincenzo out into the quiet hallway. He shut the door softly behind us, then turned to face me. He loomed over me, his presence instantly shrinking the wide corridor.

"He's asleep," I whispered, keeping my head slightly bowed. "He ate all his lunch, signore."

Vincenzo didn't say anything for a long moment. He just leaned against the mahogany wall, his gray eyes tracking my face. The silence was heavy, but it didn't feel as hostile as before.

"Mrs. Gable told me you handled him well," Vincenzo said, his voice a low, quiet rumble in the empty hallway. "Usually, he throws a tantrum when his nanny is away. He doesn't like strangers."

"He's a good boy," I said softly, my heart swelling. "He just... he just wanted someone to play with him."

Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed slightly, a faint flicker of something passing through them. "You speak of him like you know him."

A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I quickly adjusted my glasses, hoping they hid the panic in my eyes. "I don't, signore. I just... I like children. They're easy to understand."

"They are," Vincenzo agreed, taking a slow step toward me. He stopped just inches away. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smelling the faint trace of cedarwood and clean soap. "Adults, on the other hand, are complicated. They hide things. They wear masks."

His gaze dropped to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat. The air between us felt thick, charged with that same strange, dangerous tension from the kitchen last night. I wanted to step back, but my back was already pressed against the hallway wall.

"Tell me, Alessa," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that made my knees feel weak. "Why do I feel like I've seen you somewhere before? And don't tell me it's in your dreams."

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I was sure he could see it moving my apron. I forced myself to look up, meeting his piercing gray eyes. "I don't know, signore. Maybe I just have one of those faces."

Vincenzo stared at me, his gaze incredibly intense, as if he were trying to peel back my layers and see the truth. Slowly, he reached out, his knuckles brushing against my cheekbone, sending a jolt of pure static through my skin.

He didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers trailed down to my jaw, his thumb gently resting on the corner of my lower lip.

Before either of us could say anything, a sharp click of heels echoed from the end of the long hallway.

Vincenzo’s hand dropped instantly, his expression turning cold and distant before I could even blink. He took a step back, putting space between us just as Lucia turned the corner.

She stopped, her eyes darting between me and Vincenzo, a sharp, ugly look of suspicion crossing her face.

"There you are, Vincenzo," Lucia said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she walked up and wrapped her arm through his. "The driver is waiting. We need to leave for the charity gala."

Vincenzo didn't look at me as he nodded to her. "Right. Let's go."