Layla
After work, I showered and changed, then headed down to the courtyard garden I’d discovered on our first day. The last thing I expected was to find Aldo talking to Eli. But that’s exactly what I saw when I entered the interior garden—Aldo crouched beside my son.
I hurried down the winding white-stone path through the tangle of grass and flowers to where the Mafia king crouched beside the little boy. Heart in my throat, pulse racing. What was he doing with my son?
“Eli.” I grabbed his free hand, lifting it from the sketchbook. “Come on. We’re going upstairs.”
“Wait.” In an instant, Aldo was beside me, his warm fingers burning through the sleeve of my sweater. Stopping me in my tracks despite every shred of logic telling me to go.
I’d stopped listening to logic where Aldo was con
