Chapter 2 - The Don's Softness
For the first three days, Norah barely left the room.
The trauma of her past life with Tommy—the sudden screams, the empty bank accounts, the cold nights wondering if they would be evicted—slowly began to wash away under the quiet routine of the Moretti estate. Mrs. Rossi, a warm Italian woman with silvery hair and kind eyes, brought hot meals three times a day, insisting that Norah eat enough to regain her strength.
"You look like a breeze could blow you away, child," Mrs. Rossi scolded gently on the fourth morning, placing a tray of scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and espresso on the table. "Eat. You are feeding a growing boy and carrying the weight of the world."
"Mrs. Rossi," Norah asked quietly, cradling a mug of tea. "Is Gabriel... always like this?"
"Like what?"
"Guarded. Silent. Protecting people who mean nothing to him."
Mrs. Rossi smiled gently, setting down her apron. "Mr. Moretti lost his wife and unborn child seven years ago to an ambush by the Bratva. He built these walls to keep the world out. But a man who has lost everything knows the value of life better than anyone else. He sees you, Norah. He sees a mother fighting for her child. That is never nothing to him."
That evening, unable to sleep, Norah carried a quiet, fussy Leo down the grand staircase in her socks, hoping a walk through the warm hallways would soothe his teething gums.
She followed the dim lights toward the back of the house, stopping outside the wide-open doors of the library.
Inside, sitting at a massive mahogany desk lit by a single banker's lamp, was Gabriel. He had shed his suit jacket; his white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick, muscular forearms corded with veins. He was staring intensely at maps and financial ledgers, a half-empty glass of bourbon at his elbow.
Leo let out a soft, babbling noise.
Gabriel lifted his head instantly. His eyes locked onto Norah standing in the doorway in her oversized sweater, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves.
"He wouldn't sleep," Norah apologized quickly, backing away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."
"Norah. Stay," Gabriel said, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room. He stood up and walked over to them.
Leo reached his tiny hands out toward Gabriel, making eager grasping motions.
Gabriel looked surprised, but he gently reached out and lifted the boy into his arms. Leo immediately buried his face into Gabriel's neck, blowing a tiny drool bubble against his collar.
A rare, faint smile touched Gabriel's lips. "Teething?"
"Yes," Norah sighed, leaning against the doorframe, exhausted. "His lower gums are swollen. I tried the cold washcloth Mrs. Rossi gave me, but it only works for a few minutes."
"Come here," Gabriel murmured, guiding her over to a deep leather sofa near the fireplace.
He sat down, placing Leo across his lap. With unbelievable gentleness for a man whose hands carried a reputation for lethal force, Gabriel dipped his pinky finger into a glass of ice water on the side table and gently massaged the baby's gums. Leo let out a long, contented sigh, his heavy eyelids fluttering shut within minutes.
Norah watched them in spellbound silence. The firelight cast warm, dancing shadows over Gabriel's rugged profile, softening the harsh lines carved by years of syndicate violence.
"You're good with him," Norah murmured softly.
"I used to practice on my nephews," Gabriel said quietly, his eyes fixed on the sleeping child. "Before the war started."
"I'm sorry about your wife, Gabriel," Norah offered gently. "Mrs. Rossi told me."
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Gabriel's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. He looked up at Norah, his dark eyes searching her face. There was no pity in her expression—only pure, genuine empathy.
"It was a long time ago," Gabriel said softly. "I thought I had buried everything soft inside me along with her." He looked back down at Leo, then up at Norah again, his gaze lingering on her soft, full lips. "It seems I was wrong."
