Chapter 10 - The King in the Living Room
Lorenzo Moretti stood on the porch, towering over the doorway.
Up close, the power he radiated was overwhelming. Even with a cane and faint scars across his cheekbones, he possessed an unmistakable, dangerous authority that made you want to drop your eyes.
But as his dark eyes settled on my face, the harsh coldness in his expression softened into something profound and raw.
"Clara," he rasped, taking a slow step over the threshold. "Isabella told me everything."
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, stepping back to let him inside.
He closed the door behind him, leaning slightly on his cane, scanning the cozy living room until his eyes landed on the small dining table in the corner.
Mia was sitting at the table, her face messy with peanut butter, holding her gray stuffed rabbit in one hand and a yellow crayon in the other.
When she saw the tall man enter, she didn't run. She didn't hide.
She set her crayon down, tilted her head, and studied him with the intense, fearless curiosity that only a three-year-old could manage.
Lorenzo froze. The formidable mob boss, the man who controlled half of New York's underworld, stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching audibly in his chest.
He stared at Mia’s gray eyes. At the shape of her small nose. At the dark curls falling over her forehead—the exact mirror image of his late sister, Julianna.
A tear welled in Lorenzo’s eye, tracking down his scarred cheek.
He slowly dropped his silver cane onto the rug. Pain clearly racked his healing body, but he ignored it, sinking slowly onto his knees right there in the foyer.
"Mia..." he whispered, his voice cracking with unbearable emotion.
Mia slid off her chair, holding her gray rabbit by one ear, and walked slowly across the room toward him. She stopped two feet away, looking at the scars on his face.
"You're the sleeping mister," she said softly.
May you like
Lorenzo let out a broken, tearful laugh, covering his face with one large, calloused hand for a second before looking back up at her.
"Yes, baby," Lorenzo whispered, reaching out with a trembling hand, stopping just short of touching her shoulder, afraid he might break her. "I was sleeping. But you sang to me... and you woke me up."
