1. Santino

CHAPTER 1

SANTINO

T he shrill ring of my cellphone shatters the pre-dawn stillness, jolting me from a restless sleep. I fumble for the device on my nightstand, squinting at the too-bright screen. Marco. My consigliere wouldn't call at this hour unless it was an emergency.

"What is it?" I rasp into the phone, my voice rough with sleep and the lingering bite of last night's scotch.

"Santino, I have some bad news," Marco says, his normally unflappable tone wavering. "It's about your brother Luca and his wife."

I sit up, instantly alert, a cold sense of dread settling in my gut. "What happened?"

"There's been an accident. A bad one. They didn't make it, Santino. I'm so sorry."

The words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing my breath. Luca, my baby brother, the golden boy who escaped this life for love and the promise of something better. Gone, just like that. And Aria, his sweet, beautiful wife who made him happier than I'd ever seen him.

I swallow hard against the surge of grief, my fingers tightening around the phone. "Matteo?" I manage to ask, dreading the answer. My adorable nephew, just barely six years old.

"He's okay, just a few scrapes and bruises. But Santino..." Marco hesitates. "Luca and Aria named you as Matteo's guardian in their will."

The shock of that revelation rips through me, followed swiftly by a rising sense of panic. Me, a guardian? A parent? The idea is ludicrous. My life is too dangerous, too unpredictable for a child. The violence, the darkness that clings to me like a second skin - that's no world for an innocent kid like Matteo.

"No," I bite out. "No fucking way. I can't do it, Marco. You know I can't."

"I understand, boss. But we don't have a choice. Family services is sending a social worker to assess the situation later this morning."

I rake a hand through my hair, my mind reeling. A social worker, poking around my house, my life, passing judgment on my fitness to raise a child. The very thought makes my hackles rise.

"Stall them," I growl. "I need time to think."

"I'll do my best, Santino. But you should prepare yourself. This social worker, Aaron Shepherd, has a reputation for being a real hard-ass. He won't go down easy."

I almost laugh at that. If this Aaron Shepherd knew who he was dealing with, he'd run screaming in the other direction. I've faced down rival mobs, dirty cops, and stone-cold killers without blinking. One stubborn social worker is nothing.

"I'll handle him," I say, injecting my voice with a confidence I don't feel. "Just get me a little more time."

I end the call and slump back against the headboard, my brother's face swimming before my eyes. Luca, with his easy smile and ridiculous dimples, ruffling my hair when we were kids. The golden boy, the prodigal son, the one who got out of the life and made something of himself. The brother I failed to protect in the end.

And now his son, little Matteo, is mine to raise. Mine to keep safe in a world that chews up innocence and spits it out broken. The weight of that responsibility settles on my chest like an anvil, crushing the breath from my lungs.

I'm still sitting there, staring blankly at the wall, when Gia bursts into the room in a whirlwind of black silk and designer perfume. My sister, always perfectly coiffed even in the face of tragedy. I envy her composure.

"Santino," she says, perching on the edge of the bed to clasp my hands in hers. Her fingers are ice-cold, betraying her calm facade. "I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry, fratellino."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak past the lump in my throat. Gia squeezes my hands, her dark eyes searching mine.

"We'll get through this," she says fiercely. "You're not alone, Santino. We'll face it together, as a family. Matteo needs us now more than ever."

I look away, shame and doubt coursing through me. What do I know about being there for a grieving child? My world is blood and bullets, not bedtime stories and skinned knees. I'm not fit to raise a houseplant, let alone a little boy who just lost his parents.

Gia cups my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. "I know what you're thinking, fratellino. But you're wrong. You have so much love to give, even if you don't see it. Matteo is lucky to have you."

I want to believe her, but the fear is a living thing, coiled in my gut. I've spent so long armoring myself against any vulnerability, any weakness. The thought of opening my heart to a child, of risking that kind of love, is terrifying.

Before I can respond, the doorbell chimes, echoing through the house like a death knell. The social worker. I tense, instinctively reaching for the weapon I keep stashed in my nightstand. Gia stops me with a hand on my arm.

"No guns," she says sternly. "Let me handle this, Santino. I'll buy you some time to get your head on straight."

I reluctantly nod, watching her slip out of the room on silent feet. Then I lever myself out of bed and head for the shower, hoping the scalding spray will scour away some of the dread and helplessness clinging to my skin.

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.

But looking at Shepherd's earnest, determined face, I know I can't lie to him. He'd see right through me in an instant. So I take a deep breath and give him the truth, as uncomfortable as it is.

"I...I don't know," I admit, the words feeling like shattered glass in my throat. "I want to do right by Matteo, more than anything. But my world...it's not a kind one. I have enemies, responsibilities I can't just walk away from."

I rake a hand through my hair, frustrated by my own helplessness in the face of this monumental task. "I'm not sure I know how to be what he needs. But I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to keep him safe and cared for. Even if it means tearing my whole goddamn life apart and rebuilding it from scratch."

Shepherd is silent for a long moment, his eyes searching mine like he's trying to take my measure. I resist the urge to fidget under that penetrating stare, feeling flayed open and exposed in a way I haven't since I was a green kid, new to the family business.

"Okay," he says at last, something like approval warming his tone. "That's a start, Mr. Ricci. Admitting you need help, that you can't do this alone...that's the first step."

He reaches into his pocket and produces a business card, pressing it into my hand. His fingers are warm against my palm, the contact sending an unexpected jolt of awareness through me.

"I want you to call me, anytime, if you need guidance or support. I meant what I said to Matteo - we're going to figure this out together. You're not alone in this."

I stare down at the card in my hand, the crisp white paper seeming to burn against my skin. Aaron Shepherd, LCSW. A lifeline, to a man like me. It feels surreal.

"I...thank you," I manage, my voice gruff with an emotion I can't name. "I'll keep that in mind."

Shepherd nods, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You do that. I'll be in touch soon to discuss next steps. In the meantime, just focus on being there for Matteo. Let him know he's loved and protected, no matter what."

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there in the hallway, my head spinning with the enormity of what I've agreed to. I look down at the business card again, tracing the embossed letters with my thumb.

Aaron Shepherd. A man who sees through my armored facade to the uncertainty beneath, who isn't afraid to call me on my bullshit. A man who makes me want to be better, for Matteo's sake if not my own.

I tuck the card into my breast pocket, just over my heart. It feels like a talisman, a reminder of the new path I've chosen. The path that leads to my nephew, to the family I've been entrusted with.

I know it won't be easy. I'll have to change everything, risk everything, to make this work. The thought is daunting, but beneath the fear, there's a flicker of something else. Something like hope.

Matteo needs me. And damn it all, I need him too. Need the chance to be more than just a killer, a gangster, a heartless boss. The chance to make my brother proud.

I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders beneath the weight of my new responsibilities. It's a weight I'll gladly bear, for Matteo's sake. For the family.

I head back into Matteo's room, ready to begin again. Ready to be the man my nephew deserves, come hell or high water. And if Aaron Shepherd is the one to guide me through the darkness...

Well. So be it.