Chapter 4
Before Rocco could utter another word of comfort to his trembling son, the brass handle of the bedroom door directly in front of them clicked loudly. The heavy wood swung inward, revealing the bright, immaculate interior of the guest bedroom.
Ava Hayes, Bianca’s twelve-year-old daughter, stood in the doorway. She wore expensive, pristine child’s pajamas and soft slippers. Her fair, rosy skin was flawless, a mirror image of her mother’s aristocratic beauty. In her arms, she casually held a plush pillow and an extra, heavy velvet blanket.
Ava looked down at the three-year-old boy clinging to the Mafia boss’s chest. Her expression was completely devoid of empathy, twisted instead into a mask of cruel, entitled annoyance. She was entirely oblivious to the lethal, suffocating danger radiating from the man kneeling on the floor.
"You're making too much noise," Ava complained, her American accent dripping with spoiled irritation. She tossed the heavy blanket onto the floor near Noah's feet with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "Guard dogs don’t need sleep. But I do. So shut up."
Rocco did not move. He remained perfectly still on one knee, his broad shoulders shielding Noah. His cold, intimidating eyes slowly rose from the discarded blanket on the floor to lock onto the twelve-year-old girl's face. The terrifying, dead calm in his gaze was something men twice his size had begged for mercy to escape.
"What did you just say?" Rocco asked. His voice was barely a whisper, yet the slow, controlled pauses between his words carried a catastrophic weight.
Before Ava could register the danger and respond, the rapid, frantic clicking of high heels echoed from down the hall. Bianca appeared around the corner, her elegant formal dress swirling around her legs. Her fair skin went completely pale the moment she saw Rocco kneeling on the rug with Noah.
"Rocco!" Bianca gasped, her voice shrill with sudden, overwhelming panic.
She sprinted down the hallway, her mind scrambling to salvage the horrifying reality she had just been caught in. She needed to silence her daughter before the girl condemned them both.
"Ava, get back inside your room right now!" Bianca shrieked, moving with desperate, wild energy.
She reached the doorway and violently shoved Ava back toward the interior of the bedroom, nearly knocking the twelve-year-old off her feet. Ava let out a startled cry as she stumbled backward.
In a state of blind, unhinged panic, Bianca spun around and reached out, her hands aggressively grabbing for Noah’s small arm again, desperately trying to pull the child away from his father.
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"Rocco, darling, please, let me handle him!" Bianca babbled, her American accent pitching into a hysterical frequency. "He was sleepwalking! I was just trying to corral him back to his bed, I swear!"
Rocco looked at the manicured hands reaching for his son. The heavy gold of his family signet ring gleamed in the bright hallway light as he slowly, deliberately set Noah safely behind him. He stood up to his full, imposing height, his tailored three-piece suit smoothing out perfectly over his deeply masculine frame. The time for questions was over. The time for reckoning had arrived.
