1.The Mafia Baby Was Starving Until the Maid Did the One Thing His Father Had Been Too Broken to Understand

Lorenzo’s finger remained frozen on the trigger.

The air in the nursery grew so heavy it felt impossible to breathe. The sleeping nurse in the chair suddenly stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw the mafia don holding a gun and the maid nursing the baby, the nurse gasped in terror, dropping her wine glass. It shattered against the hardwood floor.

"Out," Lorenzo commanded without turning his head, his eyes never leaving Hunter.

The nurse scrambled to her feet, tripping over her own shoes, and fled the third floor as fast as her legs could carry her.

Lorenzo lowered his gun slightly, his gaze shifting down from Hunter’s calm, tear-streaked face to his son.

Leo was nursing with an intensity Lorenzo had never seen. The baby’s cheeks, usually deathly pale, were flushing with a soft, healthy pink. Color was returning to his lips. His small stomach, hollowed out by two weeks of starvation, was visibly rounding beneath his white cotton onesie.

The heart monitor was steady, beating at a healthy one-hundred-and-twenty beats per minute.

Lorenzo slowly holstered his firearm. He took a step closer, dropping to one knee beside the window seat. His massive, scarred hand reached out, shaking slightly as he touched Leo’s hair. It was warm.

"How?" Lorenzo asked, his voice cracking, the terrifying mob boss suddenly replaced by a broken father who had spent two weeks watching his child die. "The doctors... they tried everything. Why is he taking it from you?"

Hunter gently wiped a drop of milk from Leo’s chin. "Formula tastes like metal to a baby who is hurting. Donor milk loses its warmth when it's thawed. He didn't just need food, Mr. Rossi. He needed a mother's skin."

Lorenzo looked at Hunter. Really looked at her.

He saw the dark, dark circles beneath her hazel eyes. He saw the faint, faded bruises along her jawline—bruises left behind by her abusive ex-boyfriend. He saw the raw, unspeakable grief etched into her young face—a grief that mirrored his own.

"You have a baby?" Lorenzo asked softly.

Hunter’s breath hitched. A fresh wave of pain washed over her face. "She was stillborn. Three weeks ago. Her name was Lily."

Lorenzo closed his eyes for a brief second. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place instantly. This wasn't a spy sent by his enemies. This wasn't an assassin. This was a grieving mother whose body was crying out for a child, just as his motherless child was crying out for life.

Leo finally released his hold, letting out a deep, satisfied sigh. His eyes fluttered shut, and within seconds, he fell into the first deep, painless sleep of his life, his small forehead resting against Hunter’s collarbone.

Hunter gently buttoned her maid's dress, carefully tucking Leo into her shoulder to burp him. A soft, tiny burp escaped his lips.

Lorenzo stood up, walking over to the window, staring out at the dark Atlantic Ocean pounding against the cliffs below.

"What is your name?" Lorenzo asked.

"Hunter. Hunter Higgins."

Lorenzo turned around. The grief in his eyes was still there, but it was now overlaid with the sharp, calculating intellect of a man who ruled an empire.

"You are no longer a maid, Miss Higgins," Lorenzo said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "You will not clean another floor in this house. You will live on the third floor, in the suite connected to the nursery."

Hunter blinked, startled. "Mr. Rossi, I... I have an apartment in Queens. I have a job—"

"Your apartment in Queens is unsafe," Lorenzo cut in coldly. "My men checked your background twenty minutes after you were hired. I know about Thomas Vance. I know he pushed you down the stairs. I know he owes thirty thousand dollars to loan sharks in Brooklyn."

Hunter’s blood ran cold. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything that happens in this city," Lorenzo stated. "If you go back to Queens, Vance will find you. He will hurt you again."

Lorenzo walked over, standing directly in front of her. His tall, imposing frame cast a shadow over the window seat, but his eyes were filled with a intense, quiet solemnity.

"Stay here," Lorenzo offered. "Feed my son. Save his life. In exchange, I will give you a million dollars, a private security detail that will ensure no man ever lays a hand on you again, and Thomas Vance will never bother you again."

Hunter looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. Leo’s tiny hand was still clutching her lace collar, refusing to let go even in his sleep.

She knew what Lorenzo Rossi was. He was a killer. A mob boss whose name made grown men tremble.

But right now, he was just a father offering her a sanctuary built on blood money.

"I don't want a million dollars, Mr. Rossi," Hunter said softly, looking up into his dark eyes. "I just want to make sure your son survives."