3The fiancée of Milan’s most feared mafia boss slapped me in front of twelve powerful crime families, sneering that I was “only a housekeeper.” But when my three-year-old daughter stepped between us clutching her blue rabbit, the mafia king himself discovered that her toy carried a mark connected to a traitor inside his empire.

Three months later.

The harsh winter of Milan gave way to the vibrant, blooming warmth of Italian spring. The gardens of Villa Moretti were a sea of red roses and blooming jasmine.

Inside the sprawling estate, the heavy iron gates remained open during the day. The armed guards were still present, but the atmosphere of fear was entirely gone.

In the sunlit courtyard, Emma was chasing a butterfly in a bright yellow dress, her laughter echoing across the fountains. Clutched tightly under her arm was her newly washed, perfectly mended blue rabbit—minus the microchip, which was now securely locked in a federal vault.

I walked out onto the stone veranda, carrying a tray of fresh lemonade.

Footsteps approached behind me, and strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a warm, solid chest.

“You’re working too hard again, Mrs. Bennett,” Alessandro murmured against my neck, kissing my shoulder softly.

“I’m just delivering refreshments to the garden, Mr. Moretti,” I teased, leaning back into his embrace with a soft smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you to drop the ‘Mr. Moretti’?” he chuckled, turning me around in his arms so I was facing him.

Alessandro looked different than he had months ago. The perpetual harshness in his eyes had softened, replaced by a deep, unwavering warmth and profound affection. He wasn't just the feared mafia king of Milan anymore; he was a protector, a partner, and a father figure to a little girl who had once taught him how to feel.

“Well, technically, I’m still your head housekeeper,” I smiled, though my cheeks warmed under his intense gaze.

“Head housekeeper, my soul,” Alessandro whispered, cupping my face with his large, calloused hands. He leaned down and captured my lips in a tender, lingering kiss that made the spring breeze feel electric.

From the lawn below, Emma looked up, saw us kissing, and giggled, shouting, “Mr. Bunny says you two are being silly!”