Chapter 2 - The Unbroken Gaze
The floorboards beneath Elina’s shoes felt endless as she approached the VIP corner. The warm golden lighting of the restaurant seemed to concentrate heavily on Table 12, creating an almost theatrical spotlight on the boss and his child. The two bodyguards had positioned themselves strategic distances away—one standing near the edge of the bar, his eyes continuously scanning the room, while the second stood three feet behind Matteo’s high-backed leather chair, hands folded neatly in front of his waist.
Matteo sat comfortably, adjusting his son on his lap. Baby Leo was shifting uncomfortably, his small face contorted into a frown. The child’s dark eyes darted nervously around the unfamiliar environment, his little hands beating against his father's chest in rising frustration.
Elina stopped two feet from the edge of the table. She clasped her hands over her leather order pad, adopting the neutral, respectful posture required by her position.
"Good evening, sir," Elina began, her voice soft, clear, and melodic despite the tremor running through her chest. "Welcome to Restaurante Orelio. My name is Elina, and I will be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with some fresh sparkling water, or perhaps a drink from our reserve—"
She cut herself off.
Baby Leo had stopped moving.
The small child froze mid-squirm, his dark eyes snapping directly toward Elina's face. The room seemed to fall into a strange vacuum. Leo’s tiny mouth parted slightly, his tear-filled eyes wide as he locked onto Elina.
Elina paused, startled by the intensity of the infant's gaze. For a second, she forgot her manager's warnings, forgot the intimidating guards, and forgot the terrifying reputation of the man sitting before her. She simply saw a tired, distressed baby looking at her with a profound, unexplainable focus.
Matteo, noticing his son's abrupt silence, shifted Leo slightly to turn him away toward the menu. "We’ll take a bottle of Pellegrino," Matteo said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated with absolute authority. "And bring a warm towel for—"
Before Matteo could finish his sentence, Baby Leo burst into a sharp, frantic cry.
It was not a subtle whine; it was an agonizing, desperate sob. The baby twisted his small torso violently in Matteo’s lap, breaking free from his father’s grip. Leo extended both of his tiny arms forward toward Elina, his fingers grasping wildly at the empty air between them. Tears instantly welled up in the child's eyes and spilled down his chubby cheeks.
"Leo," Matteo said softly, a hint of surprise breaking through his stern demeanor as he gently encircled his hands around the boy's waist to pull him back into his chest. "Leo, quiet. It’s alright."
But Leo fought back with incredible vigor for a nine-month-old. He kicked his small, black-booted feet against Matteo’s thigh, arching his back and weeping loudly, his hands reaching desperately toward Elina’s waist—specifically toward the bright white apron contrast against her black uniform.
The bodyguard standing behind Matteo took half a step forward, his brow furrowed in deep confusion. His hand moved reflexively closer to his coat lining before he checked himself.
"He doesn't like strangers," the bodyguard murmured, his voice laced with genuine shock. "Sir, he’s never done that before. He screamed at the nanny for three hours yesterday."
Elina froze on the spot. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. She stood completely still, caught between the instinct to step back out of fear and the maternal, empathetic instinct to reach out to a crying baby.
"I... I’m sorry," Elina stammered, stepping back an inch, her eyes wide with concern. "I can step away if I'm bothering him, sir. I can have another server—"
"Stay," Matteo commanded. The single word sliced through the child’s cries like a blade.
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Leo’s crying intensified into desperate gasps, his small body trembling as he leaned as far over the edge of the table as his father’s massive hands would allow. His tiny fingers reached, opening and closing, frantic to touch the young woman standing before him.
Elina looked from the distressed baby to the cold, dangerous face of Matteo DeLuca. She felt completely confused. Why was this baby, the son of the most feared man in the city, reaching for a complete stranger with such desperate, heartbreaking longing?
