The Mafia Boss’s Son Begged Me to Stay. His Father Wouldn’t Let Me Walk Away.

I was one missed paycheck away from losing my apartment when I told Brooklyn’s most feared man to step away from his own son. Three-year-old Leo Moretti had shattered a plate, bitten a bodyguard, and screamed until the restaurant fell silent. But when I sat on the floor with warm milk and let him choose, he reached for my hand. “Don’t go.” His father, Rico, could buy almost anything. Naturally, he thought he could buy my tomorrow. I told him no. Then I agreed to two hours in his house—with conditions. I expected a difficult child and an impossible employer. Instead, I found a little boy terrified of another goodbye, and a dangerous man who had mistaken control for protection. Leo trusted me first. His father would have to learn how. Because I was beginning to want more than afternoons in their house—and wanting Rico didn’t mean I could afford to trust him.