Chapter 5 - The Line Crossed
Three weeks passed.
Inside the Rossi estate, life had transformed into something extraordinary.
Leo was no longer the frail, dying infant the doctors had abandoned. He had gained four pounds. His cheeks were round and rosy, his storm-gray eyes bright and alert. He laughed whenever Hunter tickled his belly, and he refused to fall asleep unless he was resting against her collarbone.
Hunter, too, had transformed. The hollow, haunted look in her eyes had been replaced by a soft, glowing warmth. She wore beautiful silk dresses that Lorenzo had personally ordered for her from Milan. She walked through the grand gardens with Leo in a silver pram, surrounded by discreet security guards who looked at her not as a servant, but as the lady of the house.
And then there was Lorenzo.
The terrifying mafia Don had changed. He came home early every single night. He cancelled high-level cartel meetings just to sit on the floor of the nursery, building wooden blocks with Leo while Hunter read to them.
The boundaries between them were blurring rapidly.
One evening, a violent thunderstorm rolled over Chicago. Flash of lightning illuminated the grand master suite where Hunter was laying Leo down in his crib.
A loud crack of thunder shook the house, and Leo let out a startled cry.
Before Hunter could reach into the crib, Lorenzo stepped up beside her. He lifted the baby into his broad arms, soothing him with low, quiet words. Standing together beside the crib, Lorenzo’s arm brushed against Hunter’s shoulder.
The air between them instantly charged with a fierce, undeniable heat.
Hunter looked up at Lorenzo. The soft lamplight caught the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the dark stubble on his jaw, and the deep, intense longing in his gray eyes.
"He loves you," Lorenzo whispered, his gaze dropping to her soft, pink lips.
"I love him, too," Hunter replied, her heart racing, her voice barely audible over the sound of rain against the glass.
Lorenzo slowly set the lulled baby back down into the crib. He turned to face Hunter, stepping into her personal space until there was less than an inch between them.
"And what about his father?" Lorenzo asked softly, his voice thick with a dark, intoxicating vulnerability. "How does she feel about his father?"
Hunter swallowed hard. She should have been afraid. She was a maid; he was a king. But looking into Lorenzo’s eyes, she didn't see a mob boss. She saw the man who had protected her, who had avenged her lost child, who had given her a reason to live when she was drowning in grief.
"His father..." Hunter whispered, reaching out with a trembling hand to rest her palm against Lorenzo’s solid, beating chest, "...is the most incredible man I’ve ever met."
Lorenzo let out a low growl, his patience snapping.
He leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, electric, possessive kiss.
Hunter gasped against his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her flush against his massive body. The kiss tasted of fire, rain, and months of suppressed desire. Lorenzo’s hands cupped her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones as he kissed her like a starving man reaching water.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together in the dim light of the nursery.
"I’m taking you and Leo to my private estate in Lake Geneva tomorrow," Lorenzo murmured, his hands resting possessively on her waist. "It’s safer there. The Moretti syndicate has been moving men near the city borders. I want you somewhere I can guard you twenty-four hours a day."
"Lorenzo," Hunter said, looking up at him with genuine concern. "Are you in danger?"
Lorenzo smiled dark, lethal smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "My love... I am the danger. But until the Morettis are erased, you and Leo are my only vulnerability."
He didn't know that three miles away, in a darkened warehouse near the docks, Victor Moretti was staring at a photograph of Hunter holding Leo in the garden.
"So that’s the wet nurse," Victor Moretti sneered, tossing the photo onto a table. "The woman who saved Rossi’s brat. The woman Lorenzo is kissing on his balcony."
Beside Moretti stood a man wearing a dark hoodie, his face scarred and twisted with pure, bitter hatred.
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It was Jimmy Vance. He had jumped off the cargo train in Iowa and walked all the way back to Chicago, driven by a psychotic desire for revenge.
"She’s not just a wet nurse," Jimmy hissed, his voice raspy. "She’s his heart. You take her... and Lorenzo Rossi will crawl on his knees."
