That was the phrase he used.
Underground.
Maya stared at him as though he had suggested they relocate to the moon.
“No.”
“Maya.”
“No.”
“There is a secure residence beneath one of my commercial buildings.”
“That sounds worse every time you explain it.”
“They know your face.”
“I’ve spent months sleeping in shelters. Half the city knows my face.”
“Claudia knows you matter to Noah.”
Maya stopped arguing.
Vincent saw the fear in her eyes.
“That means she may use you.”
“Against him.”
“Yes.”
Maya looked toward the staircase.
Noah was upstairs with Teresa.
“Then I should leave.”
Vincent’s expression became incredulous.
“That is exactly what you should not do.”
“If I disappear—”
“They’ll find you faster than I will.”
She hated that he was probably right.
Vincent stepped closer.
“I’m not trying to control you.”
“You’re very bad at proving that.”
“I know.”
His honesty again made it difficult to stay angry.
“I’m asking you to trust me for forty-eight hours.”
“Trust isn’t something you can order.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“But maybe I can earn it.”
That was the problem.
Vincent was earning it.
Slowly.
In ways Maya did not want to notice.
The way he never forced Noah to speak.
The way he apologized when he was wrong.
The way he had sat outside Noah’s bedroom until three in the morning after the boy had a nightmare.
The way he had given Maya clean clothes without replacing her old ones, understanding somehow that charity became humiliation when it erased choice.
The way he had learned to knock before entering a room.
Small things.
Dangerous things.
Because Maya had stopped believing powerful men could be gentle.
Vincent Moretti kept giving her reasons to reconsider.
She agreed to move.
Not underground.
To a secured townhouse owned by one of Vincent’s legitimate companies.
Vincent, Noah, Teresa, Maya, and six guards moved that evening.
The house was smaller than the estate.
No marble.
No giant staircase.
No echoing halls.
Noah loved it immediately.
He chose the smallest bedroom.
Maya chose the room across from his.
Vincent slept downstairs.
Or claimed he did.
Maya doubted he slept at all.
For two days, nothing happened.
Noah continued speaking.
Not constantly.
Some hours he returned to silence.
Dr. Grant explained that recovery would not be a straight line.
Nobody pressured him.
Maya learned his favorite cereal.
His hatred of peas.
His obsession with dinosaurs.
His ability to cheat at every board game ever invented.
She also learned Vincent had no idea how to braid hair, fix a loose button, or operate the washing machine in the townhouse.
“Why are you washing clothes?” Maya asked.
Vincent held one of Noah’s sweaters like evidence.
“Teresa went to the pharmacy.”
“You have employees.”
“I can wash my son’s clothes.”
“Apparently not.”
The machine had filled with soap.
Too much soap.
Foam pushed through the door.
Noah laughed so hard he fell onto the floor.
Maya laughed until her stomach hurt.
Vincent looked offended.
Then he started laughing too.
It was the first moment Maya saw the man beneath the reputation.
Not Vincent Moretti.
Not the boss.
Just Vincent.
After Noah went to bed that night, Maya found him sitting on the back porch.
She joined him.
The neighborhood was quiet.
Security guards remained somewhere nearby, but for once Maya could pretend they were alone.
Vincent handed her a cup of tea.
“You remembered.”
“You take tea at night.”
“Most people don’t notice.”
“I notice things.”
She smiled.
“I noticed.”
They sat in silence.
Then Vincent asked, “What would you do if money wasn’t a problem?”
Maya looked at him suspiciously.
“This isn’t a trick.”
“It sounds like one.”
“I’m curious.”
She thought.
“I’d reopen my catering business.”
Vincent looked surprised.
“You cooked professionally?”
“For six years.”
“What happened?”
“You know what happened.”
“I know the financial part.”
Maya stared at the tea.
“I loved feeding people.”
Vincent smiled faintly.
“Of course you did.”
“What does that mean?”
“The first thing you did when you had one meal left was give it away.”
Maya looked down.
“That wasn’t smart.”
“No.”
“It was irresponsible.”
“Probably.”
She looked at him.
“Are you always this encouraging?”
“I’m agreeing with you.”
She laughed.
Vincent’s expression softened.
“What did your business look like?”
“A tiny rented kitchen. Two employees. Weddings. Office lunches. Family events.”
“You were good?”
“I was very good.”
“I believe you.”
The confidence in his answer startled her.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
Silence returned.
Maya noticed a scar near Vincent’s wrist.
“What happened?”
He looked at it.
“Old mistake.”
“That mysterious?”
“Knife.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Your life is exhausting.”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever want out?”
Vincent didn’t answer immediately.
“Every day since Noah was born.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“Because leaving isn’t as simple as walking away.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“Sometimes it is.”
Maya looked at him.
Vincent met her gaze.
“Isabella used to say the same thing.”
The sadness in his face returned.
Maya touched his wrist without thinking.
His entire body went still.
So did hers.
The contact was small.
Two fingers against a scar.
But neither moved.
Then Vincent turned his hand palm-up.
Maya’s fingers rested in his.
The air changed.
Not dramatic.
Not rushed.
Just warm.
Human.
Maya withdrew first.
“I should sleep.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
Then a window shattered.
Vincent grabbed Maya and pulled her to the floor.
A gunshot cracked through the room behind them.
Security erupted.
“Down!”
Another shot.
Vincent covered Maya with his body.
Glass exploded.
Noah screamed upstairs.
Maya pushed against Vincent.
“Noah!”
“Stay here!”
“Absolutely not.”
She crawled toward the door.
Vincent cursed and followed.
Guards moved through the house.
“Rear alley!”
“Two shooters!”
Vincent shouted, “Secure Noah!”
Maya reached the stairs.
Noah ran toward her.
She caught him.
“It’s okay.”
He was shaking violently.
Vincent reached them.
“Safe room. Now.”
They moved into a reinforced closet hidden behind a bedroom wall.
Teresa joined them.
Vincent remained outside.
Maya grabbed his coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To end this.”
“That’s exactly what Isabella was afraid you’d do.”
The words stopped him.
Vincent stared at Maya.
She lowered her voice.
“Don’t become the thing she wanted Noah protected from.”
His face changed.
Outside, men shouted.
Vincent looked at his son.
Noah’s eyes were huge.
“Dad.”
Vincent crouched.
“I’m here.”
“Don’t go.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Then he entered the safe room and shut the door.
For perhaps the first time in his adult life, Vincent Moretti chose not to chase the enemy.
He chose his son.
Police arrived twenty minutes later.
One shooter escaped.
The other was arrested.
He worked for Claudia.
By sunrise, Claudia Moretti was officially wanted in connection with conspiracy, attempted murder, and financial crimes.
Luca remained missing.
The townhouse was compromised.
They returned to the estate.
Maya’s hands shook for hours.
Vincent found her in the kitchen after dawn.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She stared.
“That was a strange response.”
“I’m glad you’re not pretending.”
Maya laughed weakly.
Then tears came.
She turned away.
“I hate this.”
Vincent stood behind her but didn’t touch her.
“I know.”
“I spent months thinking being homeless was the most unsafe I could feel.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for things you didn’t personally do.”
“I brought you into this.”
“Noah brought me into this.”
A pause.
“Actually, the sandwich did.”
Vincent laughed softly.
Maya wiped her face.
Then Vincent said, “I’m getting you out.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Different city. New identity if necessary. Money. Apartment.”
“No.”
“This isn’t about control.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
Maya stepped closer.
“I’m not leaving Noah while Claudia and Luca are out there.”
“You could die.”
“So could you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my life.”
“It became mine the moment your son grabbed my sleeve.”
Vincent looked at her.
Maya continued.
“I know what it’s like when everyone leaves because your life gets inconvenient.”
Her voice shook.
“I won’t do that to him.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened with emotion.
“You barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
He recognized his own words.
Maya smiled faintly.
Vincent looked at her for a long time.
Then he said, “You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”
“That means a lot coming from a mafia boss.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He stepped closer.
Their faces were inches apart.
Maya’s heart accelerated.
Vincent hesitated.
That mattered.
A man who could command rooms without raising his voice waited for permission.
Maya closed the distance.
The kiss was gentle.
Brief.
Nothing like the dramatic moment she might have imagined years earlier when she still believed life happened according to plans.
Vincent pulled back first.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I kissed you.”
“Then you shouldn’t have done that.”
Maya smiled.
“Probably.”
For one second, they were simply two people standing in a kitchen after surviving a terrible night.
Then Daniel rushed in.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
“What?”
“We found Luca.”
Maya’s pulse jumped.
“Where?”
Daniel’s expression was grim.
“Not where.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Who he called.”
Vincent waited.
Daniel spoke.
“Three minutes before the attack, Luca called a number registered to someone inside this house.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Teresa.”