Aria's POV

"She looks familiar."

The words hung in the air, freezing the blood in my veins.

Did he recognize me? I held my breath, waiting for the realization to dawn in those icy blue eyes.

But before the silence could stretch another second, Jasmine intercepted.

"Oh, Dom, this is my cousin," Jasmine said, her voice dropping into a flawless, sugary purr.

She stepped closer to him, subtly blocking his line of sight. "People always say we share a family resemblance."

Cousin.

Standing right there in front of Dominic Valentino, wearing my ring, with my son breathing somewhere inside those stone walls, my only sister looked me dead in the eye and called me her cousin.

I didn't flinch. I smiled. Because twenty-five years of cleaning up Jasmine's messes taught me one thing, survival first, anger later.

"I don't think you two look alike." Dominic held the gate a second longer than necessary. His gaze dragged from Jasmine's forced smile to my face, dark and unreadable, calculating a sum neither of us could see.

Then, he gave a curt nod and walked inside.

The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind us, Jasmine's fingers dug into my wrist. She dragged me into a side parlor, out of the camera's blind spot, and shoved the door shut.

The sweet, relieved sister vanished.

"Don't say a word, Aria," she hissed.

"You're wearing my ring."

Jasmine glanced at the heavy silver band on her left hand. She didn't look guilty; she looked cornered. "Aria, you don't understand..."

"I understand you told the most dangerous man in the city that my son is yours."

Tears welled in her eyes. It was a flawless, terrifyingly quick transition. The same look she used when we were kids to get my last dollar.

"I was terrified! When I found him, his men were practically shooting the traitors. He was covered in blood. I handed him the ring, and he just... assumed. He looked at me like I was his savior."

"So you played the saint."

"I played to stay alive!" Her voice broke, looking like she did something great.

"He took us in. He gave Luca everything..."

"Luca." The name felt like a physical blow.

"That's what Dominic named him." Jasmine stepped closer, her tone softening into something venomous and pleading.

"Aria, we've been married for three weeks. If he finds out I lied now, he won't just throw me out. He'll kill me. He'll take the baby and you'll never see him again."

She let that hang in the air. The ultimate threat disguised as a warning. She knew exactly where to twist the knife.

"What do you want, Jasmine?" I kept my voice dead flat.

"Be his nanny." Relief washed over her features. "Just for a while. You get to be close to him. I get someone I can actually trust in this house. I'll tell Dominic you needed work. That's it."

She reached out, touching my arm. "He's your son, Aria. He needs you."

I stared at her hand. Then at her face. I knew none of this was about what Luca needed. It was about Jasmine keeping her throne.

"If anyone hurts him in this house," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, "I will burn it down with you inside."

Jasmine blinked, stepping back. She forced a smile. "Follow me."

The nursery was on the second floor. I heard the crying before we even reached the door, a frantic, exhausted wail that made my chest physically ache.

I pushed past Jasmine and went straight to the crib.

He was tiny, red-faced, fists curled tight. Four months old. Dark hair. My son. My hands were shaking as I scooped him up. The second his cheek hit my chest, he startled.

Then, he inhaled, buried his face into the crook of my neck, and grabbed a fistful of my collar. The crying stopped instantly.

Hi, baby, I thought, closing my eyes as a tear slipped down my jaw. I'm so sorry I'm late.

"He's been crying for an hour." My eyes snapped open.

Dominic stood in the doorway. He'd shed his suit jacket. The gun holstered at his ribs was in plain sight. He wasn't looking at Jasmine. He was staring at me.

"He wanted to be held," I said, my voice tighter than I meant it to be.

"Jasmine said to let him cry it out. Said he needed discipline." Dominic's voice was a low rumble.

I didn't look at my sister. I just tightened my hold on Luca.

Dominic took a slow step into the room. His gaze drifted down, just for a fraction of a second, to my left shoulder, which was covered by my collar, where my birthmark was.

Did he remember something about that night a year ago?

His eyes snapped back up to mine. The temperature in the room plummeted.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Aria," I said. "Just Aria."

He nodded, slow and deliberate. "You're on night duty, Aria." He turned and walked out, leaving the air completely entirely out of the room.

Aria's POV

The echo of his footsteps hadn't even faded before Jasmine was moving.

She threw herself out of the nursery and into the hallway, catching up to him before he reached the top of the stairs.

"Dom, wait," she called out. The venom from a moment ago vanished, replaced instantly by a breathless, sugary whine.

I stood in the doorway, Luca resting against my chest, and watched my sister go to his daddy.

Jasmine reached out, wrapping her manicured fingers around his bicep. "I was thinking, since I've been so stressed with the baby... maybe we could go shopping downtown today? Just the two of us?"

Dominic stopped. He didn't look at her face. He looked at her hand on his arm.

The shift was microscopic, but I saw it. He withdrew his arm with a chilling, utter detachment, leaving Jasmine's hands grasping at empty air.

"I have business," he said. The tone wasn't that of a bloodthirsty monster. It was the tone of a man addressing a minor, inconvenient employee.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black titanium card, and held it out. "Take the car. Take some guards with you."

He didn't wait for her to take it and just slid it onto the hallway console table and walked down the stairs without a backward glance.

Jasmine stared after him, her jaw tight, before snatching the card. She glanced back and caught me watching. I raised an eyebrow.

If he finds out I lied, he'll kill me. I tightened my hold on Luca.

Dominic Valentino might be a ruthless mob boss to the rest of the world, but to Jasmine? He wasn't some terrifying, abusive tyrant holding her hostage. He was just a deep pocket who barely tolerated her presence.

Another lie. Another manipulation to keep me playing her game.

The estate settled into a suffocating silence around two in the morning.

I was dozing in the armchair next to the crib when the first whimper broke the quiet. By the time I was on my feet, Luca was letting out a sharp, agonizing wail.

I scooped him up, immediately feeling the heat radiating through his soft onesie. A fever. Not dangerously high, but enough to make a four-month-old miserable.

"Shh, I know, I know," I whispered, pressing his flushed cheek to my neck.

I went into the adjoining bathroom, wet a soft washcloth with tepid water, and began pacing the dim nursery.

I wiped the back of his neck, his little wrists, gently bouncing him with a rhythmic sway that my body seemed to remember on a cellular level.

The crying wouldn't stop. He was frustrated, hot, and exhausted.

Without thinking, I closed my eyes and let a melody slip past my lips.

It was an old, quiet lullaby I had hummed to the concrete walls of my cell in Lockwood Correctional. I used to press my hands to my swollen belly in the dark, singing it until the baby stopped kicking and went to sleep.

"Hush now, little one, the storm is passing by..." I sang softly, letting the vibration of my chest soothe him. "Rest your head, the dawn is in the sky..."

It worked like magic. Within minutes, the frantic wailing dissolved into small, sleepy hiccups. Luca's tiny fists uncurled, his breathing evening out against my collarbone as he drifted back to sleep.

"He likes that song."

I gasped, spinning around.

Dominic was leaning against the doorframe, a shadow detached from the darker hallway. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. In his hand was a glass of warm water.

How long had he been standing there?

He pushed off the frame and walked silently into the room. The sheer size of him made the spacious nursery feel suddenly small. He stopped a foot away and held out the glass.

"Drink," he ordered softly. "You've been pacing for twenty minutes."

I took the glass with my free hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Thank you."

He didn't step back. He stood there, watching me take a sip, his dark eyes missing nothing in the dim moonlight.

"Fourteen months in Lockwood Correctional Facility," he said.

It was a statement of fact. My blood ran cold, but I forced my face to remain completely blank. Of course he ran a background check for his son. He was the head of the Valentino family.

"You do your homework, Mr. Valentino," I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake Luca.

"I don't let strangers sleep fifty feet from my son without knowing exactly what they are capable of," Dominic replied, his gaze locking onto mine. "Aggravated assault. You put a man in the hospital."

I met his stare evenly. I knew exactly what the police report said. "I hit a scumbag who was putting his hands on his girlfriend. He pressed charges. I'd do it again."

I left out Daniel's name. I left out Jasmine. And I prayed to God that the prison records his men pulled were the redacted ones that didn't mention the prison infirmary. Or the birth.

Dominic stared at me. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He was looking for a crack, a tell, a lie.

Then, he took a half-step closer. The scent of bergamot, expensive scotch, and gun oil wrapped around me. I stopped breathing.

He reached out.

I braced myself, but his hand didn't go to my throat.

His thumb gently brushed a stray curl of hair away from my collarbone. His skin was rough, calloused, and the contact sent an electric shock straight down my spine.

His fingers lingered for a fraction of a second, hovering just millimeters above the fabric of my shirt, right over the spot where my birthmark lay hidden.

His dark eyes dropped to my lips, then slowly drifted back up to hold my gaze.

"You don't hold him like a beginner," Dominic murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a dangerous, quiet intensity. "Tell me, Aria... have you ever had a child?"

Aria's POV

"Tell me, Aria... have you ever had a child?"

The question hung in the dimly lit nursery, sounding heavy. My heart slammed in my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I forced a laugh, a dry sound that scraped the back of my throat.

"I worked odd jobs, Mr. Valentino," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Daycares. Babysitting for double shifts. When you're handed a screaming infant and told to make it stop, you figure it out fast."

Dominic didn't blink. His dark eyes searched my face, dissecting every micro-expression. "Is that so."

"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put him down."

I put down my Luca and then turned away too fast. Panic made my movements jerky. My foot caught on the edge of the thick Persian rug, and I couldn't brace for the fall.

I didn't hit the ground.

A large, calloused hand clamped around my waist like a steel vice, yanking me backward.

I crashed hard against a solid wall of muscle. Dominic's other arm wrapped around my front, securing me against his chest in one fluid, impossibly fast motion.

The air rushed out of my lungs. My back was arched, my chest pressed flush against him as I twisted my head to look up.

For a split second, the elegant nursery faded.

I remembered that night a year ago!

The smell of rain, copper blood, and raw danger.

An alleyway swallowed by shadows.

The feverish heat of a man poisoned and cornered, gripping my waist with strength. He had lifted me off the ground with one arm, pressing my upper body flush against his, our breaths mingling as the world tilted...

A sudden, sharp intake of breath snapped me back to the present.

I was staring up into Dominic's face. He was inches away, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath his skin.

My chest heaved, my breasts brushing the hard plane of his chest with every ragged breath. Heat radiated from his palm, scorching through the thin cotton of my shirt, sending a treacherous, electric weakness straight down to my knees.

He was perfectly still, but the rigid tension of his body betrayed him. Against my hip, I could feel the hard shift of his physical reaction.

Yet, his face remained a mask of flawless, chilling indifference.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a dark, vibrating rasp that seemed to echo in my bones.

"Thank you," I gasped, instantly pulling away the moment his grip loosened. My legs were trembling so violently I could barely stand.

I forced me to keep looking a Luca into the crib, not daring to look back. "Goodnight, Mr. Valentino."

I heard his footsteps retreat. When I finally turned, the doorway was empty.

By noon the next day, the tension in the estate had morphed into something entirely different. Jasmine was on the warpath.

She had noticed. Of course she had. Jasmine possessed a predator's instinct for whenever a man's attention wavered from her, and Dominic's icy dismissal the previous night had sent her into a spiral of vicious insecurity.

She needed to assert her dominance, and I was the easiest target.

"Aria," Jasmine's voice sliced through the quiet of the grand library.

I paused, a heavy stack of leather-bound books in my arms. Dominic was seated at the massive mahogany desk at the far end of the room, listening to his assistant Chase read a security report. He didn't look up, but the scratching of his pen stopped.

Jasmine stood near the towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, draped in a silk lounger, sipping espresso. "You missed a spot on the upper molding. Just because I took pity on you and gave you a job doesn't mean you can slack off in front of my husband."

"The cleaning staff handles the high shelves, Jasmine," I said evenly.

"Call me Mrs. Valentino! And I'm telling you to do it. " She smiled, a brittle, cruel thing. "Use the rolling ladder. Don't be lazy."

I clenched my jaw. Arguing would only draw Dominic's scrutiny.

I set the books down and walked over to the wooden ladder attached to the brass rail.

I climbed, step by step, feeling the weight of two pairs of eyes on my back, Jasmine's glaring with spite, and another, heavier gaze burning from the desk.

I reached the top rung, stretching my arm with a cloth to dust the ornate woodwork.

Below, Jasmine shifted. The heel of her stiletto "accidentally" kicked the base of the ladder.

The brass wheels screeched. The ladder jerked violently to the right.

"Ah!" My fingers slipped from the molding. The world tipped sideways.

I fell.

I braced for the shattering impact of the marble floor, but it never came.

A blur of movement crossed the room. Two powerful arms caught me mid-air, the impact driving the breath from my lungs as we hit the edge of a side table.

There was a sharp, tearing sound of fabric.

A sharp corner of the table's brass fixture had caught the neckline of my shirt as I tumbled into Dominic's arms. The thin cotton ripped violently down my collarbone, exposing my left shoulder completely to the cold air of the library.

I gasped, scrambling to right myself in his arms, my hand flying up to cover my chest.

But I was too slow.

Dominic froze. The arms holding me went entirely rigid.

His dark eyes were locked on my bare skin. Right on the pale, light-brown birthmark, shaped like a crescent moon, resting on the curve of my left shoulder.

The air vanished from the room. I watched his pupils dilate, a shockwave of recognition, disbelief, and raw fury crashing across his face.

"Dominic? Oh my god, Dom, what happened?!" Jasmine's frantic, high-pitched voice echoed as she sprinted toward us, her face pale with fake concern. "Are you okay?"

Dominic didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge she was in the room.

His hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist in a vice-like grip. He yanked my hand away from my torn collar, exposing the birthmark again.

His breathing was heavy, chaotic. The terrifyingly calm mob boss was gone, replaced by the man from the alleyway.

"Dominic?" Jasmine faltered, stopping a few feet away, panic finally bleeding into her voice. "What... what's wrong?"

Dominic blocked her sight. She didn't notice he had seen my birthmark.

Dominic slowly raised his eyes from my shoulder to my face. His jaw was locked so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.

"Who," he ground out, his voice a barely restrained growl, "exactly are you?"