Page 2 of The Billionaire's Distraction

But then he looked down.

Gianna’s tiny features were soft with sleep, her adorable fist curled by her cheek.She smelled sweetly of baby powder.Tony—six foot three, scarred hands, dark eyes that had seen too much—froze.His chest warmed with an unfamiliar glow.

“Well, damn,” he muttered, rocking her automatically.“You’re lethal, aren’t you?”

The baby sighed contentedly in her sleep, and Tony, the predator who’d shattered bones to build empires, melted into a human rocking chair.

“Just for a moment,” he grumbled, pacing the room.He could handle this.He wouldn’t do diapers, and absolutely no bottles.Oh, and no screaming.But if she continued her sleeping, that was a job he could handle.And if swaying and bouncing kept her happy, then he’d sway and bounce.He’d look like an idiot doing it, but Gianna wouldn’t tell anyone.Babies were great at keeping secrets.

He walked down the hallway and tapped on a hidden panel, putting in his personal code.A moment later, a door ticked open.Tony stepped into the hallway, unconsciously pausing to ensure that the door clicked shut behind him, then walked carefully down the stairs to the state-of-the-art security room, Gianna snug in his arms.The place hummed with quiet efficiency, walls alive with screens and blinking lights, a nerve center that rivaled the CIA.His men were at their stations, fingers flying over keyboards, eyes glued to surveillance feeds.

“Ben,” Tony called, lowering his voice a notch, hoping not to wake the little darling in his arms.“Check on Tom Peterson.Make sure he’s behaving.His boys are becoming an issue at the playground.”

The twenty-something tech whiz named Ben perked up instantly, his freckled face breaking into an eager grin.“Sure thing, boss.”He turned back to his monitors, almost rubbing his hands with glee.“Ilovechecking in on Mr.Peterson.”

From the back, someone groaned.“The father!Not the nanny!”

Tony’s gaze turned to Lizzy, a pretty redhead whose freckles outnumbered even Ben’s.Everyone in the department knew she had a massive crush on Ben.Everyone except Ben.

Tony smirked.Those two were perfect for each other—if they’d ever look up from their screens long enough to notice.They both had the same sharp moral compass.Same obsession with catching bad guys.And they shared a similar hatred of the outdoors.

Every time someone suggested a hike or a picnic for “team building,” Lizzy and Ben launched into a joint tirade about bugs.Not just mosquitoes.Allbugs.Lizzy once argued that spiders had a personal vendetta against her.Ben, dead serious, claimed that hiking was just “sweaty cardio without Wi-Fi.”

Tony glanced down at the baby nestled against his chest.Gianna’s tiny lips twitched in her sleep, dreaming of milk or maybe world domination—difficult to tell at this age.He huffed a laugh, stunned at how something so small could completely undo him.He was a blackened soul who melted by a seven-pound human burrito in a pink blanket.

But sentimentality had limits.He might cradle Sal’s daughter like she was spun glass, but outside these walls, Tony spied, schemed, and manipulated.He knew every secret in Chicago worth knowing.He knew where all the skeletons were buried and had no problem digging them up if needed.

Still, he scowled when he caught Ben’s ears perking at Naomi’s name.Tony didn’t like anyone thinking about Naomi Cross in a way that involved hormones.Especially not one of his tech nerds.

He moved to Ben’s station, hugging the still-sleeping baby tighter, and bent low.“Keep your eyesoffMs.Cross.”His voice was a low, lethal whisper.

Ben froze, fingers suspended guiltily over the keyboard, like a kid caught stealing cookies.He swallowed loudly.Finally, he stammered out, “Sure thing, boss.”

Tony straightened, patting Gianna’s diapered butt as he stalked back to the center of the room.He loved this space.Banks of monitors glowed like hundreds of watchful eyes.The place hummed with the soft whir of servers and the quiet clicking of keyboards.Energy buzzed here—focused, relentless.

And, of course, his nerds.

Half of them hadn’t wanted to sign up with a “criminal organization.”They were straight-A kids who used to win math contests and now got paid obscene amounts to hack bad guys.And, yeah, sometimes to “borrow” passwords from a corrupt aldermen, but that was practically community service.Tony knew the truth—these analysts had the same moral compass he did: bend the rules in order to break the bastards and protect the innocent.

Now, rocking Sal’s baby in one massive arm, Tony looked like a mafia Santa Claus overseeing his workshop while the elves coded.Absolute control, yes—but with lullabies.

On Ben’s screen, the Peterson household blinked to life.Tony’s mouth tightened as the data rolled across the monitors: numbers, timestamps, images.

Mr.Peterson’s bank accounts were ballooning at an alarming rate—twenty percent growth in seven weeks.That kind of spike didn’t happen by accident.It reeked of something rotten, and Tony could sense the blood in the water.

His lips pursed.“Interesting.”

He adjusted Gianna against his chest, the baby sighing contentedly, then ordered, “Dig deeper into Peterson Industries.No way his retail sports stores are making that kind of money.Unless he’s selling sneakers laced with gold dust.”

Ben nodded, fingers flying across the keyboard.“On it, boss.”

The system lit up, sifting through product intakes, shipping receipts, call logs, and customer transactions.Tony’s gaze sharpened.Whatever Peterson was up to, it wasn’t Little League sponsorships.

And Tony Mancini, cradling a newborn while ordering a financial strip search, almost smiled.Parenthood suited him.

Almost.

Chapter 2