The mafia boss sat beside a little girl on a plane and never knew the child who kept asking him questions was his own daughter

Part 2: “Because I’m sitting next to it.”

She should have laughed. Instead, she studied his face as if deciding whether he was joking. Then she said, “You’re weird.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

The plane shuddered again. Lila’s fingers tightened on his sleeve.

Luca turned slightly toward her. “Look at me.”

She did.

“Breathe in with me.”

She frowned. “I’m not a baby.”

“I know. Just do it.”

He showed her slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Once. Twice. The little girl copied him, her shoulders lowering a little each time.

“There,” he said. “Better?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s honest.”

She looked at him with new interest. “Who taught you that?”

“No one.”

“My mom says that’s sad.”

“She’s probably right.”

Lila went quiet, then said, “Do you have kids?”

The answer came before he could think better of it. “No.”

She made a face of immediate disappointment. “That is sad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why is everybody judging me tonight?”

“Because you look like someone who should have children.”

That landed harder than it should have.

“Should I?”

She nodded. “You seem like you’d be good at it.”

Luca stared out into the dark beyond the window. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” she said.

When he looked back, she was already half asleep, her head tilted toward the window, one hand still curled around his sleeve like it had forgotten to let go.

Across the aisle, the woman was watching her daughter with a look so guarded it almost looked like pain.

Luca nodded toward the sleeping child. “Long trip?”

The woman hesitated. “You could say that.”

He noticed the fatigue in her face, the strain around her eyes. Not just tired. Carried too much, too long.

“She seems bright,” he said.

“That’s one word for her.”

“It’s a good thing.”

“It is when she’s being sweet,” the woman said. “Less so when she’s correcting strangers.”

He smiled faintly. “She’s got a strong personality.”

“She gets it from her father,” she said before she could stop herself.

The air between them changed.

Luca’s eyes flicked to hers.

She looked away too quickly.

Then the plane hit another pocket of turbulence, and all three of them moved with it, the moment breaking before either could name it.

When the seat belt sign finally went off again, Lila woke up long enough to point at Luca’s hand.

“You have a ring.”

He looked down. A heavy silver ring with the Moretti crest. He normally wore gloves in public for good reason, but this flight had been supposed to be anonymous.