Chapter 2 - The Scent of Cedar and Smoke
The cashmere overcoat was heavy, warm, and smelled faintly of expensive cedarwood, dry tobacco, and the crisp winter night air.
The sudden rush of trapped heat stopped my violent shivering, creating a protective sanctuary around Lily that blocked out the howling wind.
My newborn daughter let out a tiny, soft sigh against my collarbone, nuzzling her cheek into the soft fur-lined collar of Nicholas Maro's coat.
Nicholas remained kneeling in the wet slush, completely unbothered by the freezing temperature soaking through his tailored charcoal trousers.
His eyes never left Lily’s face. The harsh, ruthless lines around his mouth softened into something so gentle it seemed impossible for a man who ruled a billion-dollar syndicate with an iron fist.
“What is her name?” Nicholas asked, his voice low and remarkably patient.
“Lily,” I whispered, my voice still trembling. “Her name is Lily.”
Nicholas raised a large, scarred hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before extending a single index finger.
Lily’s tiny pink hand twitched beneath the flannel blanket, her miniature fingers suddenly curling tightly around Nicholas's massive, calloused knuckle.
The hardened mafia boss held his breath. He didn't pull away; he let that fragile, three-day-old infant anchor him to the sidewalk.
“Lily,” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue as if it were a rare, delicate jewel.
Behind him, the taller of his two bodyguards, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar across his temple named Viktor, cleared his throat with visible anxiety.
“Boss,” Viktor murmured cautiously. “The port commissioner is waiting for our convoy at the pier. We have a midnight deadline on the shipping manifests.”
Nicholas didn't turn around. He didn't even blink.
“Cancel the meeting, Viktor,” Nicholas commanded, his baritone voice dropping into a tone of absolute, lethal authority.
Viktor’s jaw dropped slightly. “Cancel the commissioner? Boss, that contract is worth forty million dollars—”
“I told you to cancel it,” Nicholas cut him off smoothly, his thumb gently stroking the soft peach fuzz on Lily’s forehead. “Call Marco. Tell him if the commissioner complains, we will pull our security detail from his private yacht before sunrise.”
Viktor bowed his head instantly, stepping backward toward the Maybach while pulling a secure satellite phone from his coat.
Nicholas turned his attention back to me, taking in my pale skin, the dark circles of exhaustion beneath my eyes, and the plastic hospital wristband bearing my maiden name.
“Can you stand, Ava?” he asked softly, reading the black ink printed on the plastic band.
“I... I think so,” I said, trying to push myself up from the frozen stone bench.
A sharp, agonizing spasm of postpartum pain tore through my pelvis, making my knees buckle instantly. I gasped, nearly dropping forward into the slush.
Before I could fall, Nicholas’s massive arms moved with blinding, effortless speed.
He caught me securely against his chest with his left arm, while his right arm curled protectively around Lily, ensuring the baby wasn't jostled by a single millimeter.
Without a word of effort, Nicholas lifted both of us entirely off the ground, cradling me and my child against his broad, muscular frame as if we weighed nothing at all.
“Viktor! Open the rear door and put the heat on maximum,” Nicholas barked over his shoulder as he carried us across the sidewalk.
The driver scrambled to obey, holding the heavy reinforced door open.
Nicholas carefully lowered me onto the butter-soft leather seats of the armored sedan. The interior was already glowing with amber ambient light, flooded with rich, therapeutic heat that felt like heaven after an hour on the freezing street.
He reached down to the curb, picked up my battered suitcase with one hand, and tossed it into the trunk before sliding into the seat directly across from me.
The door closed with a heavy, vault-like thud that completely silenced the raging blizzard outside.
“Take us to the penthouse on Fifth Avenue, Leo,” Nicholas instructed the driver. “And call Dr. Bennett. Tell her I need an obstetrician and a pediatric trauma specialist at the estate within twenty minutes.”
I looked at the dangerous man sitting across from me, panic suddenly surging through my exhausted mind.
“Mr. Maro... please,” I choked out, clutching Lily against my chest. “I don't have any money to repay you. I can't afford a private doctor.”
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Nicholas leaned back against the hand-stitched leather, his piercing gray eyes holding mine with an intensity that took my breath away.
“Nobody asked you for money, Ava,” Nicholas replied evenly. “In my world, a man who throws his wife and newborn child into the snow isn't a husband. He’s prey.”
