"My six-month-old daughter was screaming on a red-eye flight when a passenger told me I never should’ve brought a baby onboard, and even the flight attendant demanded I keep her quiet. I was seconds from breaking when the terrifyingly calm stranger beside me defended me, took my sleeping baby into his arms, and revealed himself as Ethan Callahan, the man Chicago whispered about in fear.

The night air outside the restaurant was crisp and cold as we waited for the motorcade to arrive.

Sophie was sound asleep in her plush carrier, tucked safely inside the rear seat of the armored SUV under the watchful eye of a bodyguard.

I stood beside Ethan near the entrance of the restaurant, watching the city lights reflect off the wet pavement.

“You didn't have to terrify Thomas’s father like that,” I murmured, a slight smile touching my lips.

“Men like him only respect power, Rachel,” Ethan replied, leaning against the stone pillar beside me, his dark eyes scanning the quiet street. “If you show them softness, they take advantage. I simply reminded him of his place.”

Before I could reply, a dark sedan pulled up to the curb fifty yards away. Its headlights flickered twice—a subtle signal that made Ethan’s body instantly go rigid.

One of Ethan’s bodyguards stepped out from the shadow of the doorway, his hand reaching inside his jacket.

“Boss,” the guard murmured softly. “It’s the Moretti crew. They know you’re in town without your full escort.”

Ethan’s expression changed instantly. The warm, attentive man who had been cutting my steak moments ago vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating predator.

“Get Rachel and the baby into the lead vehicle,” Ethan ordered softly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Take them back to the estate via the northern route.”

Panic spiked in my chest. I grabbed his forearm, feeling the hard muscle beneath his tuxedo jacket. “Ethan, what’s going on? Who are they?”

Ethan turned to look at me, his eyes dark and intense. He gently placed his hand over mine, squeezing my fingers reassuringly.

“A minor territorial dispute, Rachel,” he said quietly. “Nothing for you to worry about. Go back to the estate. You are completely safe.”

“Are you coming with us?” I begged, my voice shaking.

“I have business to handle,” he replied smoothly. “I will see you at the estate before morning.”

He motioned for his lead bodyguard, a broad-shouldered man named Vance, to escort me to the SUV.

As Vance ushered me quickly into the backseat beside Sophie’s carrier, I turned to look out the rear window.

Ethan stood alone under the glow of the streetlight, his tuxedo jacket open, his broad shoulders squared against the dark street as three men stepped out of the dark sedan to face him.