A waitress brings her child to work — she thinks she’s going to be fired, but the mafia boss is taking a nap… and then she discovers the most terrifying man in Chicago fast asleep, cradling her daughter in his arms
“Then why are you helping me?”
Roman looked at Lily asleep under his jacket.
For a moment, his hard face changed again. Not softened exactly. More like some old wound had opened behind his eyes.
“Because someone should have helped you before you got to this point.”
Emma had no answer.
She looked down at her hands because if she kept looking at him, she might cry, and crying in Roman Callahan’s office seemed like another rule she could not afford to break.
Finally, he said, “Who watches her usually?”
“My neighbor. Mrs. Alvarez. She slipped on the ice this morning and hurt her knee.”
“Family?”
“None close.”
“The father?”
Emma’s jaw tightened. “Gone.”
Roman understood the warning in her tone and did not press.
Instead, he crossed to his desk, picked up the phone, and spoke briefly to someone upstairs. Five minutes later, a young man Emma had seen guarding the rear entrance appeared with Lily’s diaper bag. He set it down carefully, keeping his eyes away from Roman and Emma both.
After he left, Roman nodded toward the bag.
“Feed her when she wakes. Then you go finish your shift.”
Emma stared at him. “You’re letting me work?”
“You need the money.”
“I also need my job after tonight.”
“You have it.”
“Mr. Callahan—”
“Roman,” he said.
She blinked.
He did not repeat himself.
Emma took a breath. “Roman. I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t understand it.”
His eyes moved to Lily.
“I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time in almost two years,” he said.
The confession landed between them quietly.
Emma did not move.
Roman seemed surprised by his own words, but he continued.
“My younger brother used to sleep like that. Fist closed. Face serious, like even his dreams were none of my business.”
“You had a brother?”
“Caleb.”
The name seemed to cost him something.
Emma felt a strange tightening in her chest, though she did not know why.
Roman’s gaze remained on Lily. “He disappeared seventeen months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He didn’t just disappear.” Roman’s voice flattened. “He was involved in things he shouldn’t have touched. He stole from people who don’t forgive theft. Then he vanished before I could find out why.”
Emma held still.
Something about the name Caleb had struck a buried nerve.
Lily’s father had called himself Caleb Price.
He had worked as a mechanic at a garage near Pilsen. He had loved cheap coffee, old country songs, and Lily before Lily had a heartbeat anyone could hear. When Emma told him she was pregnant, he had gone quiet for a full minute, then cried into both hands. Two weeks later, he disappeared.
No call. No note. No body. Just gone.
Emma had spent months hating him because hatred was easier than wondering whether he had been hurt.
But Caleb was not an uncommon name.
Chicago had plenty of Calebs.
She told herself that before fear could take shape.
Roman looked back at her. “What?”
Emma forced her face still. “Nothing.”
He studied her in a way that made lying feel useless.
Then Lily stirred.
The baby opened her eyes, saw Emma, and made a small demanding sound.
Emma moved quickly to the couch, gathering her daughter into her arms. Lily smelled like milk, soap, and Roman’s expensive cologne. Emma held her so tightly that Lily complained.
“I know,” Emma whispered, kissing her soft hair. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
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