The entire restaurant froze when the mafia boss’s three-year-old son began screaming, throwing food, and fighting anyone who tried to touch him. his widowed father commanded bodyguards and employees to make him stop, but nothing worked — then a young waitress risked her job by walking directly toward the most feared table in brooklyn. she knelt beside leo, whispered a few gentle words, and offered him warm milk. the boy instantly stopped crying—but what shocked his father most was what leo did with his hand next.

The kiss was not gentle. It was possessive, fierce, and filled with months of repressed hunger.

Clara gasped against his mouth, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. Rico groaned, his arms wrapping around her waist like iron bands, lifting her slightly off her feet as he pressed her against the edge of the mahogany desk.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads pressed together in the quiet library.

"Rico..." Clara breathed, her head spinning.

"Say it again," he growled lightly, pressing a fiery kiss to her collarbone. "I've waited three weeks to hear my name come out of your mouth."

Before she could answer, the library doors flew open. Dante stood in the threshold, his face pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Boss," Dante gasped, ignoring the intimate posture of his employer. "We’ve got a problem. The Irish... they found out about the boy's progress."

Rico’s entire demeanor shifted in a nanosecond. The passionate lover vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, murderous capo. He stepped in front of Clara, shielding her automatically.

"Speak," Rico commanded.

"Liam O'Connor—Elena's uncle—is making a move," Dante reported rapidly. "He knows Elena's trust fund automatically transfers to Leo on his fourth birthday next month. He’s claiming you’re an unfit father. He’s filed emergency papers with a corrupt judge in Manhattan to seize custody of the boy."

"Custody?" Rico roared, his voice shaking the crystal wall sconces. "O'Connor thinks he can take my son?"

"He doesn't want the boy, Rico," Clara said suddenly, her mind working rapidly through her financial background. "He wants the trust fund. If he gets legal guardianship of Leo, he controls the Moretti family's voting shares in the Brooklyn shipping ports."

Rico turned to look at her, a dark spark of approval flashing in his eyes. "She's right."

"O'Connor knows he can't win a fire-fight against us," Dante added. "So he's using the law. The court server is on his way here right now with a temporary protection order. If you refuse to hand Leo over, they bring state troopers."

Rico slammed his fist against the desk, shattering the wooden trim. "I will tear down the courthouse before I let an O'Connor touch my son!"

"Rico, wait!" Clara grabbed his arm, her grip tight. "If you fight the state troopers, you play right into his hands. They'll brand you a violent criminal and lock you up, leaving Leo completely defenseless."

Rico gritted his teeth, his jaw working violently. "Then what do you suggest, Clara? Hand my son over to the man who ordered his mother's murder?"

"No," Clara said, her eyes flashing with a fierce, dangerous intelligence. "We outsmart him. The custody order applies to unmarried sole guardians when there is an allegation of domestic instability. But what if Leo doesn't just have a widowed, mobbed-up father? What if he has a mother?"

Rico went dead silent. He stared at her, his pulse hammering in his throat. "A mother."

"A legal, respectable, clean-record mother," Clara said breathlessly. "If we get married before the server reaches these gates, the temporary order is null and void. The judge can't remove a child from a two-parent home without a full evidentiary hearing, which will take months—time enough for you to destroy O'Connor's corrupt judge."

Dante stared at Clara in shock. "Holy shit. She’s brilliant."

Rico didn't say a word. He stepped up to Clara, grabbed her face between his massive hands, and looked deep into her eyes.

"This isn't a game, Clara," Rico warned softly, his voice dead serious. "If you take my name, you carry the target on my back. You become the queen of the Moretti family. There is no divorce. There is no walking away."