0mg The mafia boss’s little boy hit every nanny who came near him.

The power to the penthouse had been cut.

The floor-to-ceiling glass windows were dark, reflecting only the flashing red lights of the backup generators in the service corridor. The heat had dropped, and the air inside the massive apartment felt thin, cold, and electric with fear.

Cameron sat in the corner of Leo’s room, her arms wrapped tightly around the sleeping boy, who was wrapped in three heavy cashmere blankets.

She held the sterling silver shears she had smuggled from the kitchen in her pocket, her fingers gripping the metal handle until her knuckles turned white.

"They're coming," a quiet voice said from the doorway.

Matteo stood there. He was wearing his dark tactical vest over his black shirt, his heavy pistol held loosely in his right hand. He looked like a shadow among shadows, his eyes burning with a dark, predatory light.

"How many?" Cameron asked, her voice steady despite the hammer of her pulse.

"Ten," Matteo said flatly. "Silvio’s personal hit squad. They bypassed the lobby security. They are coming up the service elevators."

"Can we run?"

"There is nowhere to run, Cameron," Matteo said, walking over to her and kneeling on the floor beside her. "The elevators are locked, and the stairwells are compromised. We stand and fight here."

He reached out, his large, warm hand gently cupping her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

"If anything happens to me, Cameron... there is a private vault behind the mirror in my study. Inside is a passport, five million dollars in bearer bonds, and the deed to a house in Switzerland. Take Leo. Take your mother. And never look back."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Matteo," Cameron said, her voice turning fierce, her fingers reaching up to grip his wrist. "You're the King of Tribeca, remember? You don't lose."

Matteo let out a short, quiet laugh, his forehead leaning against hers for a brief, beautiful second of warmth before he stood up and turned back to the dark corridor.