Chapter 1 - THE BABY WHO KNEW ME
Leo did not want my necklace.
He wanted me.
The realization came when I stepped closer to Dante’s table and the baby made a desperate little sound, twisting so hard against his father’s chest that Dante immediately tightened one arm around him.
“Hey,” Dante murmured.
His voice changed when he spoke to the child.
Softer.
Almost unrecognizable.
Leo ignored him.
He kept reaching for me.
Both hands.
His gray eyes were fixed on my face with an intensity no nine-month-old should have possessed.
I forced a nervous smile.
“Maybe he likes waitresses.”
One of Dante’s men looked at me as if I had insulted the Pope.
Dante did not.
He studied Leo.
Then me.
“Come closer.”
Every instinct my mother had ever planted inside me screamed no.
Dragons.
Rosselli.
Walk away.
Instead, I stepped beside the table.
Leo immediately grabbed my sleeve.
Then he stopped fussing.
Just like that.
The restaurant became painfully quiet.
His tiny fingers curled around my wrist.
And he smiled.
Dante’s expression changed.
Not warmth.
Shock.
I had never seen a man look frightened by his own baby.
“What?” I asked.
Dante’s gaze moved to my left wrist.
My sleeve had pulled back.
The small crescent-shaped birthmark near my pulse was visible.
His face went still.
“Where did you get that?”
I almost laughed.
“Birthmarks aren’t purchased.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Your mother had one?”
My stomach tightened.
“How would you know my mother?”
He did not answer.
Leo made another sound and pressed his face against my arm.
Then Dante whispered something in Italian.
One of the bodyguards immediately stood.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Dante looked at me.
“What?”
“I don’t know what this is, but I’m working. Your baby is sweet. You’re terrifying. I need the money. So if we could all pretend this didn’t happen—”
“What is your mother’s name?”
There was no warmth left in his voice.
“Why?”
“Answer.”
My fear turned into anger.
“Her name is Sofia Valdez.”
The wineglass in Dante’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth.
Across the table, his bodyguard swore.
I looked between them.
“What?”
Dante slowly set the glass down.
“Sofia.”
He said her name like it belonged to a grave.
“Yes.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Eight months ago.”
His eyes moved immediately to Leo.
The baby was nine months old.
My chest tightened.
“No.”
I didn’t even know what I was refusing yet.
Dante stood.
“Alina, sit down.”
“I’m not sitting.”
“Then listen.”
“I don’t take orders from customers.”
“Your mother didn’t disappear eight months ago.”
I froze.
“What?”
He lowered his voice.
“She came to me.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My mother knew you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dante looked at Leo.
Then back at me.
“Because she brought him to my house the night his mother died.”
My blood ran cold.
Before I could ask anything else, Leo reached toward me again and said the only word he seemed to know.
“Lena.”
Every part of me stopped.
Nobody called me Lena anymore.
Nobody except my mother.
May you like
Dante’s face drained of color.
Because apparently Leo had heard that name before.
