Chapter 2 - The Unthinkable Act
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Gabriel Salvatore stared at the woman standing in the aisle. She was wearing a faded gray sweatshirt and exhausted eyes, yet she carried herself with an authority that rivaled his top lieutenants.
“The flight attendants already tried,” Gabriel said, his grip tightening slightly on his son. “He won’t take the formula.”
“He doesn't want formula,” Clare said softly, taking a step closer. She didn't ask for permission this time. She reached down and gently slid her hands under the infant’s warm, trembling body.
Gabriel hesitated, his every instinct screaming to protect his heir, but the absolute desperation in his son's cries broke his resolve. He released the boy into her arms.
Clare cradled the infant against her chest. He was beautiful, with thick dark hair and flushed, tear-stained cheeks. He rooted violently against her collarbone, his tiny fists grasping at her sweatshirt.
Without a word, Clare took the empty window seat next to Gabriel. She turned her body slightly away from the aisle, draping a lightweight travel blanket over her shoulder to create a private tent.
Gabriel watched in stunned, heavy silence as Clare adjusted her clothing beneath the blanket.
It was the most intimate, unthinkable act a stranger could perform.
Within seconds, the agonizing screams abruptly stopped.
The silence that fell over the first-class cabin was deafening. Under the blanket, the baby let out a soft, shuddering sigh of absolute relief. The frantic, breathless gasps were replaced by the rhythmic, steady sound of an infant finally receiving the nourishment and maternal warmth he had been starved of.
Clare closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the leather seat. The physical relief of nursing eased the painful ache in her own chest, but the emotional weight of the moment brought tears to her eyes. She was soothing a motherless child while running from a monster of a husband.
Gabriel Salvatore didn't look away. He sat perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed on her face. The terrifying mafia boss, a man who controlled the Miami underworld with an iron fist, was entirely captivated by the quiet, broken woman who had just silenced his greatest fear.
“What is your name?” Gabriel finally whispered, his voice stripped of its usual hostility.
May you like
“Clare,” she answered softly, keeping her eyes closed.
“You saved him, Clare,” Gabriel murmured, his gaze dropping to the edge of the blanket. “I won't forget this.”
