Page 2 of His Mafia Lover

By the time I make my way downstairs, dressed in a sharply tailored suit that feels like armor, Gia is showing our unwelcome guest into the front sitting room. My first glimpse of Aaron Shepherd stops me dead in my tracks, my heart doing a strange little stutter-step in my chest.

He's younger than I expected, mid-thirties at most, with a shock of tousled chestnut hair and bright, intelligent eyes the color of aged whiskey. There's a determined set to his jaw that speaks of a quiet strength, an unshakeable resolve. He's not classically handsome, but there's something magnetic about him, a depth of character that draws the eye and holds it.

I shake off the momentary spell, annoyed with myself. The last thing I need right now is to be ogling the man who holds my nephew's fate in his well-manicured hands. I straighten my shoulders and stalk into the room, radiating all the cold authority of the Ricci family's infamous boss.

"Mr. Shepherd," I greet him, my tone carefully neutral. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure."

Something flashes in those whiskey eyes, a flicker of irritation quickly masked. "Mr. Ricci. I'm very sorry for your loss. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for your family."

I incline my head, not bothering to pretend at politeness. "Let's cut to the chase, Mr. Shepherd. I'm aware of the circumstances that brought you here, but I can assure you, it won't be necessary. My family will handle Matteo's situation internally."

Shepherd's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "With all due respect, Mr. Ricci, that's not how this works. Matteo's well-being is my top priority, and I have a responsibility to ensure that he's being cared for in a safe, stable environment."

I bristle at the implication. "You think I can't provide that for my own flesh and blood? You have no idea what my family is capable of."

"I'm not questioning your capability, Mr. Ricci. But you have to admit, your lifestyle raises some concerns when it comes to raising a child."

I take a step forward, my patience fraying. "My lifestyle is none of your goddamn business. I don't need some two-bit bureaucrat telling me how to look after my own nephew."

Shepherd doesn't so much as flinch at my aggressive posture, meeting my glare head-on. "Mr. Ricci, I understand that you're grieving and under a tremendous amount of stress. But I'm not your enemy. My only concern is making sure Matteo is in the best possible situation going forward. If that's with you, then I will do everything in my power to support that. But I need you to work with me, not against me."

His calm conviction throws me off balance, cooling some of my knee-jerk hostility. I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. Flying off the handle won't do Matteo any favors. If I want to keep him with the family, I need to play this smart.

I take a step back, consciously relaxing my posture. "You're right. Forgive me, it's been a...challenging morning. Why don't we start over? I'll answer any questions you have about Matteo's care to the best of my ability."

A flicker of surprise crosses Shepherd's face at my sudden capitulation, but he recovers quickly. "I appreciate that, Mr. Ricci. Is Matteo here? I'd like to speak with him if possible, get a sense of his emotional state."

I hesitate, a surge of protectiveness rising in my chest at the thought of subjecting Matteo to an interrogation in his delicate state. But I know resistance will only make Shepherd more determined to insert himself into our lives.

I compromise by offering to let him see Matteo in the controlled environment of the boy's playroom, with me present to keep an eye on things. Shepherd agrees, and I lead him upstairs to the bright, airy space filled with toys and games and all the colorful detritus of childhood.

Matteo is curled up on the window seat, his small arms wrapped around a stuffed giraffe, tear tracks staining his chubby cheeks. The sight of his heartbreak makes something clench painfully behind my ribs. I've never been good with emotions, mine or anyone else's, but seeing my nephew's grief cuts me to the quick.

"Hey, bambino," I say softly, crouching down to his level. "There's someone here who wants to talk to you for a little bit. His name is Mr. Aaron and he just wants to make sure you're doing okay. Can you be brave and say hello?"

Matteo sniffles, clutching his giraffe tighter, but he nods. I ruffle his hair gently and stand aside to let Shepherd approach, watching him like a hawk for any sign of distress from Matteo.

To my surprise, Shepherd seems to have a gift for setting Matteo at ease, his manner calm and friendly without being cloying. He asks Matteo about his favorite toys, his friends at school, never pushing too hard when the boy's answers are vague or monosyllabic. I find myself reluctantly impressed by his patience and sensitivity. It's obvious he cares about his work, about the kids in his charge.

But it's when the conversation turns to Matteo's parents that Shepherd's true compassion shines through. He listens intently as Matteo tearfully recounts a happy memory of his father pushing him on the swings, his mother laughing and clapping as he rises higher and higher.

"Your mom and dad loved you so much, Matteo," Shepherd says gently. "And I know how much you miss them. It's okay to be sad, and scared, and even angry sometimes. Those feelings are all normal and nothing to be ashamed of."

Matteo looks up at him, a fragile sort of hope dawning in his eyes. "Mr. Aaron? Am I going to live with Uncle Santino now? I don't want to go away."

Shepherd glances at me, something unreadable in his expression, before turning back to Matteo with a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry about that, kiddo. Your Uncle Santino and I are going to work together to make sure you're taken care of. You just focus on being a brave boy and taking things one day at a time, okay?"

Matteo nods, some of the tension easing out of his small frame. I feel a sudden rush of gratitude toward Shepherd for giving my nephew that sliver of comfort and stability amidst so much upheaval. It's a foreign feeling, and I'm not entirely sure what to do with it.

Shepherd leaves Matteo playing quietly and gestures for me to follow him out into the hall. I brace myself for more questions, more probing into my chequered past and questionable present, but what he says next throws me for a loop.

"He's a remarkable boy, your nephew," Shepherd says, something soft and wistful in his voice. "I can see so much of his parents in him. That kind of resilience, that spark...it's rare."

I blink at him, caught off guard by the compliment. "He's a Ricci," I say, a touch of pride creeping in despite myself. "We're survivors."

Shepherd nods, his gaze turning assessing. "And what about you, Mr. Ricci? Are you ready to put Matteo's needs above everything else, even the family business?"

I stiffen, the question hitting a little too close to home. The truth is, I'm not sure I know how to be anything other than what I am - a ruthless leader, a man feared across the city's underworld. The thought of setting all that aside, even for Matteo...it's daunting.

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