Chapter 1 - The Mark of the Past
The evening rush inside L’Orso D’Oro, an upscale Italian bistro nestled in the heart of the city, was always loud and fast-paced. Alina “Lena” Valdez moved between tables with soft, graceful efficiency. At twenty-seven, she was a striking brunette with long dark hair tied loosely back, dressed in a crisp light-blue shirt and a dark restaurant apron. Hardworking, financially struggling, and exhausted from working double shifts, she kept her eyes down and focused on her work.
In the central VIP booth sat forty-nine-year-old Dante Rosselli.
Dante was an extremely handsome and feared mafia lord whose name commanded absolute silence across three states. Tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, he had thick dark hair touched with distinguished silver at his temples, a full dark beard, a sharp jawline, and a thin, dangerous scar running along his left cheekbone. He wore an expensive burgundy suit over an unbuttoned white silk shirt. Seated at adjacent tables were four broad-shouldered bodyguards in dark suits, their sharp eyes scanning the room continuously.
In Dante’s massive, tattooed arms sat nine-month-old Leo Rosselli—his baby son, wearing a tiny white dress shirt and a dark vest.
Alina approaches Dante’s table carrying a wine glass.
The instant baby Leo sees her, he suddenly LEANS violently out of Dante’s arms and reaches both hands desperately toward her.
"WHOA—EASY!" Alina gasped, her hands instinctively steadying her tray as she took a quick step back.
Dante pulls Leo back against his chest, but the baby immediately twists around again, WHIMPERS, and stretches both arms toward Alina with absolute urgency.
The surrounding bodyguards stare in confusion, their hand positions shifting slightly toward their jackets as they watch the unusual scene.
Leo begins CRYING and reaching harder, his tiny face flushing red.
Alina hesitantly extends one finger toward him, and Leo instantly grabs it with both tiny hands, his tears stopping instantly as he lets out a happy, soft coo.
Dante’s cold, stoic expression changes into pure disbelief.
"HE NEVER DOES THAT," Dante said, his deep baritone stunned and quiet.
Alina looked down at the tiny child holding her finger, smiling softly. But as her gaze drifted upward toward the man holding him, her eyes caught the dark ink exposed above Dante’s unbuttoned white shirt—a intricate, soaring dark DRAGON tattoo weaving up his muscular neck.
Her face went completely PALE, her warm smile vanishing in a split second. She jerked her hand backward as if burned.
Alina backs away from the table, visibly shaken, her tray trembling in her hands.
Dante immediately stands to his full, towering six-foot-three height, broad shoulders blocking out the ambient light of the restaurant. His sharp eyes instantly locked onto the sheer terror in her face.
"WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF THIS TATTOO?" Dante asked coldly, his voice echoing with dangerous authority.
Alina freezes in place, tears suddenly filling her wide brown eyes.
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Dante steps closer while Leo reaches for her again from his arms, whimpering softly for her return.
"MY MOM WARNED ME ABOUT MEN LIKE YOU,"
