A voice cut through the air.
“Who is this woman?””
Who is this woman?
I turned.
And I couldn’t breathe.
It was like the crowd moved out of the way for the man. Tall. Very good-looking. Dark hair pulled back from a beautiful face, a suit that fit like a second skin, and eyes that were black and unreadable.
He had a lot of power. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
And then—
“Papà!”
Luca raced into his arms. The man transformed quickly.
Relief softened his features as he embraced the kid tight.
“Mi
When he looked into my eyes again, the softness was gone and replaced by a sharp intensity.
“You can speak Italian?”
“Yes. I studied in Florence.”
For a brief moment, his expression shifted—was he intrigued? calculation?
He put out his hand.
“Alessandro Russo.”
I shook it. “Sofia Blake.”
Russo.
New York.
Safety.
The combination sounded some alarm in the back of my head, but I brushed it aside. Rich households had security.
“Thanks,” he murmured softly. “You took care of my son. I am… truly grateful.”
Luca wrapped his arms around my legs.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sofia.”
I smiled. “Please, little one.”
Alessandro was still studying me when I looked up. His gaze was awkward and unreadable.
“I
“Wait—”
But I was quickly disappearing into the crowd.
The SUVs Showed Up That Night
By the time my shift finished, I had almost convinced myself that Alessandro was nothing more than a wealthy, overprotective parent.
This changed when a black SUV pulled up in front of the café.
The second person came with me to the subway.
The third person was waiting outside my residence in Queens.
A man came out, looked at me once, and then got back in.
Not scary. Not approaching.
They were just showing me that they knew where I lived.
My stomach fell.
I hurried inside, locked the door, and called my buddy Rachel in a panic.
Then, stupidly, I googled Alessandro Russo.
A wave of fear washed over me, causing my blood to drain from my body.
Alleged leader of one of New York’s most powerful crime gangs.
Crime that is planned. Racketeering. It can’t be touched. Risky.
I got an SMS from an unknown number on my phone.
Don’t worry.
The protection is there to keep you safe.
— AR
There was a second text.
Luca spoke with you. He hasn’t spoken to anyone since his mother died.
I want to talk to you tomorrow.
10 AM.
I should have blocked him.
I should have called the police.
Moved states.
Instead, I answered after remembering Luca’s face, which was covered in tears.
I’ll be there.
Just to discuss.
The reply came instantly.
A car will pick you up at 9:30.
Non-negotiable.
Rachel nearly had a stroke when she saw the texts.
“You’re going?” Are you crazy? That man undoubtedly has somebody whose entire job is dismemberment!”
But the SUV was ready for me by dawn, so I hopped in.
Because curiosity is greater than fear.
And Luca’s smile was stronger than what made sense.
“I’d Like to Hire You.”
The penthouse office wasn’t flashy—just costly. Quiet. In charge.
It was the right size for the man at the desk.
“Miss Blake,” Alessandro murmured as he stood up. “Thanks for coming.”
“I didn’t think I had a choice.”
The smile was absent. “Everyone has a choice.”
I sat down. “Why am I here?”
He poured espresso into a fine porcelain cup.
“My son doesn’t talk to anyone. Not his teachers. Not his therapists. He did not receive support from his family.
He stopped for a moment.
“Except you.”
“That was just a coincidence.”
“No. It was a connection.”
He looked at me.
“You gave him peace.” This is a feeling he hasn’t experienced since losing his mother.
His voice got softer, but not by much.
“I want to give you a job.”
“A job?”
“Teach him Italian. Spend time with him. I spend time with him four days a week in the afternoon.
He slid a packet toward me.
I opened it.
And blinked.
“Is this… twenty-five thousand dollars? Per month?”
“Yes. Legal. Taxed. Straightforward.”
My heart literally fell out of my chest.
That money would make a big difference in my life.
But—
“You’re telling me to work for the mob.”
“I’m asking you to work for my son.”
“And the surveillance outside my apartment?”
“Safety. When you assisted Luca, you became valuable. Some people might misuse that.”
His voice sank, gentle yet steely.
“I won’t let them.”
I swallowed.
“This is insane.”
“It is.”
He leaned back.
“But it’s also simple. You made a big difference in my son’s life. Let me modify yours.”
I should have said no.
I said, “Can I think about it instead?”
“As long as you need.”
But as I left, he said quietly:
“Miss Blake, listen to me. Whether you take the position or not, you are under my protection now. I won’t let anyone use you to hurt my son.
Throughout the entire trip home, my hands shook.
Rachel read the contract and screamed:
“TAKE IT. “TAKE THE JOB. TAKE ME WITH YOU.”
I took the weekend off.
And on Monday morning, I called him.
“I’ll do it.”
The Boy, the Boss, and the Tutor
Alessandro’s townhouse astonished me.
Warm. Soft-lit.
There were family photographs all over the place.
Luca ran right up to me.
“Sofia! Sei tornata!
You came back!”
Teresa, the housekeeper, said, “He hasn’t smiled like this in years.”
We read Italian storybooks, built castles, and spoke about dragons all afternoon.
Luca emerged like sunlight reaching a cold garden.
And Alessandro observed from the doorway, expression impassive, hands in his pockets.
When I left that day, he said softly,
“Thank you. For giving him back his voice.”
I was unaware that he had already started to fall for me.
I didn’t realize that I was also developing feelings for him.
The Studio
Three weeks later, Alessandro came up to me after a practice.
“Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He led me to a bright room—the old painting studio of his late wife.
Pristine. Untouched. The room was filled with expensive materials.
“She wanted this space to be used,” he stated.
“I want you to paint here. You are welcome to paint here if you so desire.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I haven’t painted in years. I couldn’t afford supplies.”
“Then let me give this to you.”
“Why?” ” I whispered.
He gazed at me with devastating honesty.
“Because you brought laughter back to my home.
Because my son adores you.
Because you bring this place to life, just like Gianna did when she was here.
And because…
He paused.
“…because I’m trying very hard not to fall for you, Sofia.
But I am.”
My heart pounded with excitement.
“You can’t,” I said softly. “I’m your employee. And you’re—”
“A criminal?”
He smiled weakly, sadly.
“I know who I am.” But I want to be better when I’m around you.
I should have walked away.
I said quietly, “I think about you too.”
He stepped close enough that the air trembled.
“Tell me to stop,” he muttered.
I didn’t.
The kiss started out soft—hesitant and respectful—but it got deeper and deeper until my knees almost gave out.
When we finally let go of each other, breathless, he whispered,
“This changes everything.”
And it did.
Threats, Choices, and a Family
It was challenging to date a mob boss, as you might expect.
There were guards.
SUVs always close.
Whispers of “territorial disputes.”
He came home hurt and worn out at night.
But Luca’s laughing was also there.
Like a regular family, we have dinner in the kitchen.
Art is filling the studio again.
Alessandro read Dante out loud in Italian, in a low, warm voice.
One afternoon he said:
“I need you to understand my world before you choose me. There is a risk.
“Then teach me.”
He did.
Piece by piece.
And as the threat neared—another family exploring, testing—I moved temporarily into the townhouse.
One night, after someone attempted to scare me on the street, Alessandro clutched me like he was terrified I’d disappear.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This world touches everything I love.”
“I chose this,” I muttered back.
“I chose you.”
He kissed me with raw gratitude.
The Offer
Six months later, at the art studio, Alessandro knelt among the canvases that I had painted with a new understanding of darkness and light.
Luca peeked from behind the easel, holding a ring box.
“Sposaci, Sofia,” he whispered hesitantly.
Sofia, marry us.
My tears made it hard to see.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“A thousand times yes.”
Epilogue—The Best Decision
A year later, during my first gallery exhibition, Alessandro stood behind me with an arm around my waist.
“They’ll ask about your inspiration,” he mumbled.
“I’ll tell them the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
“I talked to a lost child in Italian and found a family instead.”
I kissed Luca’s hair as he hugged my leg.
“…and found a family instead.”
Alessandro brushed his lips to my temple.
“The best decision I ever made,” he muttered.
I teased, “Second best.”
“Oh? And the first? “
I responded softly, “Yes.”
“To you.
To Luca.
To all of it.”
And I meant every word.
