a.I had survived thirteen days working for the most feared mafia boss on the East Coast, but at 3:00 a.m., I was certain Vincent Moretti was finally going to throw me out. He stormed into the nursery with a gun in his hand after hearing his twin daughters scream—only to discover that the nanny he was ready to fire had somehow made his grieving little girls laugh for the first time since their mother died.

Six months later, the Moretti estate looked entirely different.

The heavy iron security shutters were pulled back, allowing the golden afternoon sunlight to flood every hallway of the sprawling mansion. Laughter—genuine, joyful, uninhibited laughter—echoed from the courtyard, where Maisie and Rosie were currently chasing a golden retriever puppy across the manicured lawn.

Inside the spacious country-style kitchen, Elise stood at the marble island, rolling out cookie dough while humming a soft melody.

The heavy oak doors swung open, and Vincent walked in. He wasn't wearing his usual tailored three-piece suit or a shoulder holster. He wore a simple black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking relaxed and completely at peace.

He walked up behind Elise, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and resting his chin comfortably on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of vanilla and flour.

"The board meeting downtown ran long," Vincent murmured into her neck, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. "I missed you."

"You missed me for two hours," Elise laughed, turning around in his embrace and wiping a smudge of flour across his cheek with her thumb. "And look at you, destroying your fearsome mafia boss reputation with baking flour."

Vincent caught her hand, kissing her palm gently. "My reputation can take the hit. Especially since the only title I care about these days is dad... and yours."

From the open French doors of the patio, the sound of tiny footsteps came thundering down the hallway. A second later, Maisie and Rosie burst into the kitchen, holding up a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves decorated with googly eyes and pipe-cleaner hair.

"Elise! Daddy! Look! We made the monsters!" Maisie shouted happily.

Vincent looked down at the ridiculous gloves, then at Elise, a warm, radiant smile breaking across his face—the smile of a man who had finally escaped the darkness of his past.