The Crash

The crash of breaking glass cut through the dinner crowd.

Then silence.

So sudden it felt like the air had been sucked from the room.

Then came the unmistakable pop pop pop that sent me diving to the floor of Bellanotte.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I pressed my cheek to the cool tile floor.

The smell of garlic and red wine filled my nostrils.

Screams and overturned chairs competed with the ringing in my ears.

When I dared to lift my head, most patrons had fled or huddled under tables.

Through the front windows, headlights flashed as cars screeched away.

That’s when I saw him.

A man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit.

Still seated at the corner table.

My section.

Remarkably composed despite the chaos.

Dark eyes beneath perfectly arched brows.

Olive skin.

A jawline that could cut glass.

He looked like he’d walked off a Milan runway.

I’d noticed him earlier, of course.

The way he commanded space was impossible to ignore.

He’d ordered in perfect Italian, voice deep and smooth as aged whiskey.

Now another round of gunfire erupted outside.

His bodyguard fell to the ground clutching his shoulder.

Blood bloomed across his white shirt.

“Everyone stay down!” Marco shouted from behind the bar.

But the man in the suit stood.

Straightening his jacket with alarming casualness.

Through the shattered window, I glimpsed shadowy figures.

The glint of metal caught in the streetlight.

I don’t know what possessed me.

Adrenaline.

Some deeply buried heroic instinct.

Plain stupidity.

But in that moment, all I could think was that this handsome stranger was about to walk into a hail of bullets.

“Stop!” I hissed, scrambling to my feet.

He ignored me.

I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist.

The contact sent an electric shock up my arm.

His skin was warm.

His pulse steady beneath my fingers.

“Are you crazy? They’re shooting out there.”

He looked down at my hand.

Then at my face.

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.

Something that should have made me recoil.

Instead, it rooted me to the spot.

“Let go,” he said quietly.

His accent more pronounced now.

Each word clipped and precise.

“No.”

The defiance in my voice surprised even me.

“There’s a back exit through the kitchen. Come on.”

Without waiting, I tugged him toward the swinging doors.

We wove between upturned chairs and abandoned plates.

Behind us, his injured bodyguard struggled to his feet.

Pressing a napkin to his wound.

Reaching inside his jacket with his other hand.

The kitchen was eerily empty.

Staff must have fled at the first sound of gunfire.

Steam still rose from pots on the stove.

A half-chopped onion sat on the cutting board.

Knife abandoned beside it.

I pulled him past industrial refrigerators.

Toward the metal door marked EXIT.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said.

Though he allowed himself to be led.

“I’m saving your life.”

His expensive shoes clicked on the tile floor.

I pushed the door open.

The cool night air hit my face.

Scent of rain and garbage.

“My car is parked a block down. We can—”

His hand clamped over my mouth.

He pressed me against the brick wall.

His body shielding mine.

His cologne filled my senses.

Something expensive and earthy.

His face inches from mine.

My heart threatened to burst from my chest.

Not entirely from fear.

“Be quiet,” he whispered.

His breath warm against my ear.

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the alley.

His body tensed against mine.

He reached inside his jacket.

When he removed his hand from my mouth, his finger pressed briefly against my lips.

A silent command.

A car door slammed nearby.

Angry voices speaking rapid Italian.

His eyes never left mine.

In their depths, I saw calculation.

Fury.

And something else.

Something that made my stomach tighten.

After what seemed like an eternity, the voices faded.

An engine roared to life.

Only then did he step back.

I could breathe properly again.

He straightened his tie with elegant fingers.

“Your car,” he said.

Not a request.

A command.

I led him to my ancient Honda.

Parked on a side street.

The adrenaline was fading.

Leaving me shaky and disoriented.

What was I doing?

I’d just witnessed a mob hit attempt.

Now I was helping one of the targets escape.

This was madness.

But something compelled me.

The way he moved with controlled power.

The quiet authority in his voice.

The intensity in his gaze.

Like he could see straight through to my soul.

“Keys,” he said, extending his hand.

I hesitated.

“I can drive.”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“I’m sure you can, piccola. But not tonight.”

He plucked the keys from my hand.

His fingers brushed against my palm.

Deliberately lingering.

He opened the passenger door for me.

Unexpected courtesy.

“Get in.”

I slid into the seat.

My legs felt like jelly.

I finally allowed myself to consider the magnitude of my impulsive decision.

I’d involved myself in dangerous business.

I didn’t even know this man’s name.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He started the engine.

Pulled smoothly into traffic.

Handling my old car with the confidence he’d drive a Ferrari.

“Somewhere safe.”

“I need to go home. I have a cat and an early shift tomorrow.”

“No, you don’t.”

His tone left no room for argument.

“Your employment at Bellanotte has just ended.”

“You can’t decide that.”

Indignation momentarily overriding my fear.

He glanced at me.

Dark eyes reflecting passing streetlights.

“I already have. It’s no longer safe for you there.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“Who are you?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached into his pocket.

Extracted a sleek phone.

Pressed a single button and spoke rapid Italian.

His voice low and commanding.

I caught words like “attacco” and “feriti.”

Enough to understand he was discussing the attack.

After ending the call, he made another.

This time in English.

“Prepare the penthouse and send a doctor.”

A pause.

“No, not for me. For a guest.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” I said.

He looked at me again.

His gaze traveling from my face down to my hands.

They were shaking uncontrollably in my lap.

There was a smear of blood on my wrist.

“Not mine,” I realized with horror.

Likely from his bodyguard when I’d rushed past.

“What you need,” he said with finality, “is not up for debate.”

He took a convoluted route through the city.

I suspected it was meant to ensure we weren’t followed.

I tried to make sense of the situation.

The restaurant.

The gunfire.

This enigmatic man effectively kidnapping me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

Not something that could happen to someone like me.

I was just Emma Reynolds.

Twenty-six years old.

Community college dropout.

Struggling waitress with too much student debt.

A dying fern in her apartment.

Yet here I was.

Being whisked away by a dangerously attractive stranger.

After a shootout at my workplace.

We pulled into an underground parking garage.

One of Boston’s most exclusive waterfront high-rises.

Condos started in the seven figures.

The security guard nodded respectfully.

Didn’t question the unfamiliar vehicle.

“You live here?” I asked.

Unable to keep the awe from my voice.

He guided me to a private elevator.

His hand at the small of my back.

Warm and possessive.

The elevator required a key card.

And a fingerprint scan.

As we ascended, I caught our reflection.

Me in my black waitress uniform.

Hair falling out of its once neat ponytail.

Eyes wide with shock.

Him immaculate despite everything.

Watching me with an intensity that made my cheeks flush.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said softly.

The elevator opened directly into a stunning penthouse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a glittering panorama of Boston Harbor.

City lights reflecting on dark water.

He stepped out.

Turned to face me.

“Matteo,” he finally said. “Matteo Reichi.”

The name hung in the air.

Something about the way he offered it.

Like it was a gift he rarely bestowed.

Told me it was significant.

That I should recognize it.

But I didn’t.

“I’m Emma,” I replied.

Stepping into what felt like another world.

“Emma Reynolds.”

His lips curved into a smile.

Didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I know exactly who you are, Emma Reynolds.”

And somehow, in that moment, I believed him.

It was the first time he’d spoken my name.

The way it rolled off his tongue made it sound precious.

Rare.

But there was also something possessive in his tone.

Should have frightened me.

Maybe it did.

Just a little.

But mostly it made me feel seen.

In a way I hadn’t in a very long time.

The Revelation

I woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows.

The disorienting feeling of not knowing where I was.

For a moment, I lay still in the enormous bed.

Surrounded by sheets softer than anything I’d ever touched.

Trying to piece together how I’d gotten here.

The events of the previous night crashed back.

The gunshots.

The escape through the kitchen.

Matteo Reichi.

Who had brought me to this penthouse.

Who had watched with intense dark eyes as a doctor checked me for injuries.

Finding nothing but shock and exhaustion.

Who had shown me to this guest room.

Told me in that commanding voice I would stay.

Where I was safe.

I sat up, running my fingers through tangled hair.

Someone had placed a silk robe at the foot of the bed.

New clothes with tags still attached.

My waitress uniform was nowhere to be seen.

The clock read 9:47 a.m.

I hadn’t slept this late in years.

Not since juggling multiple jobs to keep my head above water.

The silence of the penthouse pressed against my ears.

Made me wonder if I was alone.

After showering in the palatial bathroom, I slipped into the provided clothes.

Designer jeans.

A cashmere sweater that fit suspiciously well.

I padded barefoot through the bedroom door.

Following the scent of coffee.

Down a hallway lined with original artwork.

The hallway opened into a vast living area.

Matteo sat at a glass dining table.

Reading something on a tablet.

Dressed in a crisp white shirt.

Sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair.

He looked up as I entered.

That same electric feeling surged through me.

“You’re awake,” he said.

Setting down the tablet.

“Sit. Eat.”

Only then did I notice the spread.

Pastries, fruit, eggs, a carafe of coffee.

My stomach growled.

I hadn’t eaten since my rushed lunch break the day before.

“How long am I supposed to stay here?” I asked.

Remaining standing despite his command.

He regarded me with a measured look.

“Until it’s safe.”

“And when will that be?”

“When I say it is.”

He gestured to the chair across from him.

“Please, Emma. Sit.”

The please seemed to cost him something.

It softened my resolve.

I found myself taking the offered seat.

I poured a cup of coffee.

The rich aroma making my mouth water.

“Who were those people last night? Why were they shooting at you?”

“Business rivals,” he replied vaguely.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

I nearly choked.

“Nothing to concern myself with? I was there. I could have been killed.”

“But you weren’t.”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous.

“Because of me.”

“Because of you.”

I set my coffee down with a clatter.

“I’m the one who pulled you out of there.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“And why did you do that, Emma? Why risk your life for a stranger?”

The question caught me off guard.

Why had I?

It had been instinctual.

Unthinking.

“I—I don’t know. I just couldn’t watch someone walk into gunfire.”

“Even if they seemed determined to do it.”

He studied me for a long moment.

Like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

“Most people would have stayed hidden. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct.”

“Maybe I have bad instincts.”

I took another bite of pastry.

Avoiding his penetrating gaze.

“On the contrary,” he said softly.

“I think your instincts are exceptional. Just misdirected.”

Before I could ask what he meant, the elevator doors slid open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped out.

I recognized him as the bodyguard from the restaurant.

His arm now in a sling beneath his tailored suit.

“Boss.”

He nodded to Matteo.

Then turned to me with assessing eyes.

“Miss Emma, this is Salvatore,” Matteo said.

“He will be your security while you’re here.”

“My security?” I repeated.

The pastry suddenly dry in my mouth.

“I don’t need security. I need to go home.”

“Your cat has been collected. Along with some of your personal items.”

Matteo interrupted smoothly.

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Abernathy, was happy to help when we explained you had a family emergency.”

A chill ran through me.

“You went to my apartment. You talked to my neighbor.”

The invasion of privacy stunned me.

“How did you even know where I live?”

“I make it my business to know things.”

Completely unapologetic.

“My cat is here?”

I looked around.

Half expecting to see my grumpy tabby sauntering around the penthouse.

“In a separate room with everything he needs.”

Matteo took a sip of his coffee.

Watching me over the rim of his cup.

“Felix, yes. Seven years old. Adopted from the shelter on Maple Street.”

The fact that he knew my cat’s name and history sent another wave of unease.

“This is insane,” I whispered.

More to myself than to him.

“You can’t just keep me here.”

“I’m protecting you,” he corrected.

“The men who came after me last night saw you help me escape. They will have questions about who you are and what you mean to me.”

“I don’t mean anything to you.”

I tried to keep my voice steady.

“We met last night.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes.

Amusement perhaps.

Or satisfaction.

“That’s not entirely accurate.”

I froze.

Coffee cup halfway to my lips.

“What do you mean?”

Matteo exchanged a look with Salvatore.

Who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Moved to stand by the elevator.

Giving us the illusion of privacy.

“I’ve been aware of you for some time, Emma.”

His voice dropped to a register that sent shivers down my spine.

“Your application to Bellanotte didn’t land on Marco’s desk by accident. Nor was your apartment on Lynen Street available at such a convenient price by chance.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“You’ve been watching me. Why?”

He leaned forward.

Elbows on the table.

Hands clasped.

“Your former boyfriend, Daniel Cooper. He worked for me.”

The name hit me like a physical blow.

Daniel and I had dated for nearly a year.

Ending things just over eight months ago.

Right before I’d gotten the job at Bellanotte.

He’d disappeared from my life completely after our breakup.

Blocking my number.

Social media accounts.

Without explanation.

“Daniel worked for you doing what?”

My voice sounded distant.

Daniel had told me he was in finance.

Though he’d always been vague about specifics.

“He managed certain financial aspects of my organization,” Matteo said carefully.

“And then he made a very poor decision. He took something that belonged to me.”

Cold dread pooled in my stomach.

“Money. Among other things.”

Matteo’s expression hardened.

“Information. Contacts. He attempted to sell them to competitors.”

I shook my head.

Trying to process.

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me. We broke up months ago. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“No. You haven’t. But before he disappeared, he transferred a considerable sum into an offshore account in your name.”

“What?”

I nearly knocked over my coffee cup.

“That’s impossible. I’m broke. I work two jobs just to make rent.”

“The account exists nonetheless. As does a safety deposit box in Zurich with your name on the paperwork.”

His gaze was unwavering.

“Daniel was many things. A thief, a traitor. But apparently, he cared for you enough to try to provide for you before he ran.”

My mind raced.

Daniel involved with the mafia.

Daniel stealing and running.

It seemed absurd.

Yet the deadly serious expression on Matteo’s face left no room for doubt.

“Is he—” I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

“Dead?”

Matteo supplied.

His tone almost gentle.

“No. Not yet. He’s been remarkably elusive. But my organization has a long reach, Emma. And an even longer memory.”

I pushed my plate away.

My appetite gone.

“So last night at the restaurant, you were there because of me. You’ve been watching me all this time, hoping I’d lead you to Daniel.”

“Initially, yes. I had you under observation to see if he would contact you. But he never did.”

“Then why keep watching me?”

I demanded.

“Why arrange for me to work at your restaurant? Why all of this?”

I gestured around at the opulent penthouse.

Matteo rose from his chair.

Walked to the window.

His back to me.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Stared out at the harbor.

“You fascinated me,” he finally said.

So quietly I had to strain to hear him.

“Your resilience. Your kindness. Even to those who don’t deserve it. The way you smile at the elderly couple who comes to Bellanotte every Thursday, even when they leave you a two-dollar tip. How you feed the stray cats behind the restaurant with scraps you should take home for yourself.”

My face flushed with heat.

The level of surveillance required to know these details was terrifying.

In some twisted way, flattering.

No one had ever paid such close attention to me.

“So what happens now?” I asked.

Hating the slight tremble in my voice.

He turned back to me.

Expression unreadable.

“Now you stay here while I deal with the people who attacked us last night. Once that’s resolved, we can discuss your future.”

“My future is not yours to discuss.”

I stood up.

“I appreciate you bringing my cat and looking out for my safety. But I’m not a prisoner. And I’m not bait for Daniel either.”

In three long strides, Matteo was in front of me.

So close I could smell his cologne.

Feel the heat radiating from his body.

He didn’t touch me.

But his presence was overwhelming.

Made me acutely aware of how much smaller I was.

How much power he wielded.

“Let me be very clear, Emma.”

His voice soft but steel-edged.

“The men who came after me last night belong to the Calibri family. They are not known for their mercy or discretion. If they find you, when they find you, they will use you to get to me. And they will not be gentle in their methods.”

Fear coiled in my stomach.

But I stood my ground.

“And why would they think hurting me would get to you? We’re strangers.”

Something dangerous and possessive flashed in his eyes.

“We both know that’s not true anymore. You saved my life. In their world, in my world, that creates a debt. And Matteo Reichi always pays his debts.”

The intensity in his gaze made me take a step back.

My legs hitting the chair behind me.

“I didn’t do it for a debt.”

“No.”

A hint of that almost-smile returning.

“You did it because that’s who you are. Which makes you either very brave or very foolish. Perhaps both.”

Before I could respond, his phone rang.

He extracted it from his pocket.

Without taking his eyes off me.

Answered with a curt, “Reichi.”

Listened for a moment.

His expression darkened.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He ended the call.

Turned to Salvatore.

“Stay with her. No one enters. No one leaves. Understood.”

“Yes, boss.”

Matteo returned his attention to me.

“I have business to attend to. Salvatore will see to anything you need. Don’t try to leave. It would be both futile and dangerous.”

“How long will you be gone?”

I hated how small my voice sounded.

He reached out then.

His fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

The casual intimacy shocked me into stillness.

“Missing me already, piccola?”

He murmured.

His accent thickening.

Before I could formulate a response, he continued.

“I’ll return this evening. We have much to discuss.”

With that, he was gone.

Striding to the elevator with the confident grace of a predator.

The doors closed behind him.

I sank back into my chair.

My legs suddenly unable to support me.

Salvatore remained by the elevator.

His expression impassive.

But his eyes watchful.

The penthouse suddenly felt both cavernous and suffocating.

“Can I at least see my cat?” I asked him.

He gave a single nod.

Gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a hallway.

I tried to process everything Matteo had told me.

Daniel, a criminal.

Money hidden in my name.

Matteo watching me for months.

None of it seemed real.

Yet here I was.

In a mob boss’s penthouse.

With a bodyguard leading me to my cat.

And somewhere out in the city, dangerous men were looking for me.

Thinking I meant something to one of the most powerful criminals in Boston.

The most terrifying part was the small voice inside me.

Wondering if perhaps in some strange way they might be right.

The Truth

Felix was happily ensconced in what appeared to be a home office.

Curled up on an expensive leather chair.

Looking more content than I’d ever seen him.

He barely acknowledged me with a flick of his tail.

Closed his eyes again.

“Traitor.”

“He likes it here.”

Salvatore observed.

The first personal comment he’d made.

“He’s easily bought.”

I stroked Felix’s orange fur.

“Luxury surroundings and premium cat food will do that.”

A hint of amusement crossed Salvatore’s stoic face.

“Not unlike some people.”

I shot him a glare.

“I’m not some people. And I’m not bought.”

“No.”

He agreed.

Studying me with newfound interest.

“That’s why he’s fascinated.”

I wasn’t sure which “he” Salvatore meant.

Felix or Matteo.

But something in his tone suggested the latter.

The thought made my stomach flutter.

The day crawled by with excruciating slowness.

I explored the penthouse under Salvatore’s watchful eye.

Discovered a gym.

A library filled with books in multiple languages.

A terrace with a stunning view of the harbor.

I tried to read.

Tried to watch television on a screen so large it belonged in a movie theater.

But my mind kept circling back.

Matteo’s revelations.

Daniel had stolen from the mafia.

Daniel had hidden money in my name.

Daniel had put me in danger and then disappeared.

Now I was essentially a prisoner.

Albeit in the most luxurious cage imaginable.

As evening approached, I grew increasingly restless.

I showered again just for something to do.

Changed into another outfit that had mysteriously appeared.

A simple but obviously expensive black dress.

It fit me perfectly.

“Does he always buy clothes for women he kidnaps?” I asked Salvatore.

“You’re the first.”

His expression remained impassive.

But there was something like respect in his eyes.

“And he didn’t kidnap you. He’s protecting you.”

“Semantics.”

My retort lacked conviction.

Part of me, a part I wasn’t proud of, was anticipating Matteo’s return.

With something that felt dangerously close to excitement.

The elevator chimed at precisely 7:30 p.m.

Matteo stepped out.

Still in the same clothes from morning.

Though he’d added a jacket.

There was a faint bruise forming along his jawline.

Hadn’t been there before.

His eyes found me immediately.

Darkening as they took in the dress.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

His voice low.

“Thanks for the clothes.”

I aimed for sarcasm.

Landed somewhere closer to sincere.

“Though I’d prefer my own.”

“Your things are being brought tomorrow.”

He shrugged off his jacket.

Handed it to Salvatore.

Who nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

“But these suit you better.”

He crossed to a bar cart.

Poured two glasses of amber liquid.

“Bourbon?”

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Tonight’s a good night to start.”

He offered me a glass.

After a moment’s hesitation, I took it.

“Did you resolve your business?” I asked.

Taking a small sip.

Trying not to wince at the burn.

“Some of it.”

He loosened his tie with one hand.

Watching me over the rim of his glass.

“We located two of the men responsible for last night’s attack.”

Something in his tone made me shiver.

“And—and they won’t be a problem anymore.”

I didn’t ask for details.

I didn’t want to know.

The casual way he referenced what was almost certainly murder should have horrified me.

Sent me running for the door.

Instead, I took another sip of bourbon.

Found it went down easier this time.

“Come,” he said, gesturing toward the dining area.

“I had dinner prepared.”

The table had been set beautifully.

Candles.

Fresh flowers.

A covered dish sat at each place setting.

It looked like a date.

The thought made my heart race.

“I’m not hungry,” I lied.

“Sit anyway.”

His tone made it clear it wasn’t a request.

I perched on the edge of a chair.

Watched as he uncovered both dishes.

Perfectly seared scallops on a bed of risotto.

The aroma was mouthwatering.

“You cook?” I asked, surprised.

“No.”

He smiled slightly.

“I have people for that.”

“Of course you do.”

I picked up my fork.

Telling myself I was only eating because I needed to keep up my strength.

Not because I was giving in to his demands.

“Do you have people for everything?”

“Almost.”

He cut into a scallop with surgical precision.

“But some things I prefer to handle myself.”

The way he looked at me as he said it made heat bloom across my skin.

I focused intently on my food.

Trying to ignore the tension crackling between us.

“What did you mean this morning?” I finally asked.

“When you said Daniel transferred money into an account in my name. How is that even possible without my knowledge?”

Matteo set down his fork.

“With the right connections and enough money, many things are possible. He created the account with forged documents. Using your personal information.”

“And you think I knew about this? That I helped him?”

The accusation stung.

Even though he hadn’t said it outright.

“Initially, it was a possibility I considered. But not anymore.”

He studied me.

“No, not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you now.”

His voice softened almost imperceptibly.

“I’ve watched you struggle to pay bills that could have been easily settled with the money he left. No one is that good an actress.”

Relief washed over me.

Followed immediately by indignation.

“So you’ve been spying on my finances, too.”

“I’ve been thorough.”

As if there was a meaningful difference.

“And what about this safety deposit box you mentioned? In Zurich? What’s in it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He took a sip of his wine.

“That’s something I hoped you might help me discover.”

I set down my fork with a clatter.

“I told you I don’t know anything about any of this. I can’t help you find Daniel or whatever he took from you.”

“You misunderstand me, Emma.”

Matteo leaned forward.

His dark eyes intense.

“I don’t need your help finding Daniel. That’s already in progress. What I need is for you to claim what’s rightfully yours.”

“The money.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t want stolen money.”

“Not just money.”

He paused.

“Information. The kind that could prove very dangerous in the wrong hands. Or very valuable in the right ones.”

I pushed my plate away.

My appetite gone again.

“So that’s what this is about. You want me to access this account and box so you can take whatever Daniel stole?”

“Partially.”

He admitted.

“But also to protect you. As long as those assets remain in your name, you’re a target. Not just for me, but for others who know what Daniel took.”

“Like the men who shot at you last night?”

He nodded.

“The Calibri family would love to get their hands on what Daniel stole. And they wouldn’t be as courteous as I’ve been.”

A hysterical laugh escaped me.

“Courteous? You’ve basically kidnapped me.”

“I’ve protected you.”

His voice hardening.

“Fed you, clothed you, ensured your safety. All while you’re technically in possession of something that belongs to me.”

“I’m not in possession of anything.”

I stood up.

Unable to sit still any longer.

“I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for Daniel to drag me into his mess. And I certainly didn’t ask for you to drag me even deeper into it.”

Matteo rose as well.

The movement fluid and controlled.

“Yet here we are.”

“So what happens now?”

I wrapped my arms around myself.

“You ship me off to Zurich to empty a safety deposit box I never knew existed. And then what? You kill me because I know too much?”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes.

He rounded the table toward me.

“Is that what you think of me?”

I should have backed away.

Any sane person would have.

But something in me refused to show fear.

“I don’t know what to think of you, Matteo. You’re a criminal who’s holding me against my will. But you also buy me expensive clothes and serve me gourmet dinners. You threaten me in one breath and look at me like—”

I broke off.

Heat flooding my cheeks.

“Like what?”

He prompted.

Now close enough that I could see the faint stubble along his jaw.

Smell the subtle notes of his cologne beneath the bourbon.

“Like you want me.”

I whispered.

The words escaping before I could stop them.

His eyes darkened.

“And if I do?”

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Then you’re even more dangerous than I thought.”

“I’ve never denied being dangerous, Emma.”

He reached up.

His fingers tracing the line of my jaw.

With a touch so gentle it made me tremble.

“But not to you. Never to you.”

“Why?”

The question was barely audible.

For a long moment, he just looked at me.

Something like conflict playing across his features.

“Because from the moment I first saw you, something in me recognized something in you. Even before you pulled me from that restaurant. Before you risked your life for a stranger. I knew you were different.”

“Different how?”

His thumb brushed my lower lip.

The touch sending electricity down my spine.

“Pure. Untouched by the darkness that surrounds men like me. Yet unafraid of it.”

I should have been offended.

Should have pulled away.

Demanded to be taken home.

Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch.

My body betraying my mind’s better judgment.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” I murmured.

“But I’m not naive either. I know what you are. What you do.”

“Do you?”

His voice was a low rumble.

I could feel it in my chest.

“Tell me then. What am I?”

“A criminal. A killer.”

I swallowed hard.

“The head of a mafia organization that deals in God knows what. Drugs, weapons, human trafficking.”

He cut me off.

His expression suddenly fierce.

“No. Never that. I have lines I don’t cross, Emma. Rules I live by.”

“Honor among thieves?”

I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

“Something like that.”

His hand moved to cup the back of my neck.

Fingers tangling in my hair.

“Just as you have your own code. The one that made you risk everything to save a stranger.”

Before I could respond, his phone rang again.

He closed his eyes briefly.

Jaw tightening in frustration.

But he made no move to answer it.

“You should get that,” I said.

Stepping back from his touch.

“It might be important.”

He let me go.

Though his eyes told me he didn’t want to.

He checked the screen.

His expression darkening.

“I need to take this. Don’t go anywhere.”

As if I could.

With Salvatore undoubtedly still guarding the elevator.

Matteo moved to the terrace.

Slid the glass door closed behind him.

Through the glass, I watched him pace.

His posture rigid.

One hand gesturing sharply.

Whatever the call was about, it wasn’t good news.

I sank back into my chair.

Trying to steady my breathing.

What was happening to me?

How could I be attracted to this man?

Knowing what he was.

Stockholm syndrome didn’t set in this quickly.

Did it?

Yet I couldn’t deny the pull I felt toward him.

It wasn’t just his physical beauty.

Though that was undeniable.

It was something deeper.

The intensity of his focus when he looked at me.

The sense that behind his controlled exterior lay passions that matched the chaos of my own heart.

When he returned, his expression was grim.

“I have to go out again.”

“Is everything okay?”

I asked.

Then immediately felt foolish.

Of course it wasn’t okay.

Nothing about this situation was okay.

“There’s been a development.”

He straightened his tie.

“I won’t be long. A few hours at most.”

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

I gestured around at my gilded prison.

He crossed to me in two long strides.

His hands framing my face.

“This isn’t a prison, Emma. It’s a sanctuary. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

Before I could form a response, he leaned down.

Pressed his lips to my forehead.

The touch burning like a brand.

Then he was gone.

The elevator doors closing behind him.

Leaving me alone with my chaotic thoughts.

And the lingering warmth of his touch.

The Choice

I slept fitfully that night.

Waking every hour to check the time.

Wondering when Matteo would return.

By dawn, the sheets were twisted around my legs.

I had abandoned any pretense of rest.

A fine mist hung over the harbor.

I padded to the kitchen in search of coffee.

To my surprise, I found Salvatore there.

Reading a newspaper at the counter.

“Does he pay you to watch me sleep, too?”

My voice rough with fatigue.

“He pays me to keep you safe.”

Salvatore replied without looking up.

“Coffee’s ready.”

I poured myself a cup.

The rich aroma momentarily distracting me from my anxiety.

“Is he back?”

Salvatore folded his newspaper.

“No. There were complications.”

A cold knot formed in my stomach.

“Is he okay?”

“Mr. Reichi can take care of himself.”

His tone betrayed nothing.

But something about the careful way he avoided my eyes made my unease grow.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Salvatore regarded me for a long moment.

“He’s alive. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Alive.

The word implied there had been a situation where that outcome wasn’t guaranteed.

My hands trembled slightly as I set down my coffee.

“When will he be back?”

“When he’s finished his business.”

Salvatore stood.

Smoothing his suit jacket.

“In the meantime, a package arrived for you.”

He gestured to a sleek silver suitcase on the dining table.

I hadn’t noticed it before.

“Your passport and necessary documents for travel. Mr. Reichi wants you ready to leave when he returns.”

“Leave?”

My voice rose.

“To go where?”

“Zurich. The safety deposit box.”

Of course.

Whatever complications had arisen overnight had apparently accelerated his timeline.

I approached the suitcase cautiously.

As if it might bite.

Inside were my passport.

Which should have been in my apartment.

Credit cards I’d never seen before.

A stack of Swiss Franks that made my eyes widen.

“This is insane,” I murmured.

“I can’t just go to Switzerland.”

“You can and you will.”

Came a familiar voice from the elevator.

I turned to see Matteo stepping into the penthouse.

My breath caught in my throat.

He wore the same clothes from last night.

Now rumpled and stained with what looked horribly like blood.

A fresh cut marred his left cheekbone.

He moved with a slight stiffness that suggested more injuries.

“What happened to you?” I whispered.

His eyes met mine.

For a brief moment, I glimpsed something raw and vulnerable.

Before his expression shuttered again.

“Nothing that won’t heal.”

Salvatore moved toward him with practiced efficiency.

“Boss, the doctor—”

“Later.”

Matteo cut him off with a sharp gesture.

“Leave us.”

With a reluctant nod, Salvatore disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving me alone with Matteo.

He crossed to the bar.

Poured himself a generous measure of whiskey.

Downed it in one swallow before pouring another.

“You’re hurt,” I said.

Taking an involuntary step toward him.

“It’s nothing.”

He rolled his shoulder.

A barely concealed wince that belied his words.

“Let me see.”

The request surprised both of us.

He studied me for a long moment.

Then set down his glass with deliberate care.

“Why?”

“Because—”

I faltered.

Unsure myself.

“Because I used to volunteer at a hospital. I have some training.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

I had volunteered at Boston General during my brief attempt at nursing school.

Before money ran out.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“Is that concern I hear, Emma?”

“Basic human decency.”

I corrected.

Though we both knew it was more than that.

“Take off your shirt.”

His eyebrows rose at my commanding tone.

But after a moment, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Slow, deliberate movements that made my mouth go dry.

He shrugged it off.

Revealing a torso that would have been magnificent.

If not for the angry purple bruising along his right side.

And a shallow knife wound across his left shoulder.

“My God,” I breathed.

Closing the distance between us.

“You need a hospital.”

“No hospitals.”

His voice was firm.

“A doctor is coming. But first, we need to talk about Switzerland.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes from his injuries.

The bruising suggested broken ribs.

Maybe worse.

“About Daniel?”

He caught my wrist as I reached toward his bruised side.

“He’s been found.”

My eyes snapped to his.

“Found? Is he alive?”

“Barely.”

Matteo’s grip on my wrist was gentle but unyielding.

“The Calibri family got to him before we did. They were persuasive in their questioning.”

The clinical way he described what must have been torture made me shudder.

“Where is he now?”

“Secure under my protection.”

I frowned.

“Why would you protect him after what he stole from you?”

Something complicated crossed Matteo’s face.

“Because he had information I need. Information about you.”

“About me?”

I tugged my wrist free.

Taking a step back.

“What are you talking about?”

Matteo reached for his discarded jacket.

Extracted a folded document.

Handing it to me.

“Daniel Cooper isn’t the name he was born with. His real name is Daniel Calibri. He’s Paolo Calibri’s nephew.”

The paper in my hand was a family tree.

Names and photos connected by lines.

I recognized Daniel’s face among them.

Linked to a stern-looking older man.

Paolo Calibri.

“He was working for his uncle the entire time.”

Matteo continued.

His voice tight with controlled anger.

“His relationship with you, his job with my organization. It was all part of a long-term infiltration.”

My legs felt suddenly weak.

I sank onto a bar stool.

“I don’t understand. Why me? I’m nobody.”

“Not nobody, Emma.”

Matteo’s voice softened.

He touched my cheek.

Turning my face up to his.

“You’re Robert Reynolds’s daughter.”

The name hit me like a physical blow.

My father had abandoned my mother and me when I was just three years old.

I had no memories of him.

Only a handful of photos.

And my mother’s bitter stories before cancer took her.

When I was nineteen.

“My father,” I whispered.

“What does he have to do with any of this?”

“Robert Reynolds was one of my father’s most trusted lieutenants. Before his disappearance twenty-three years ago.”

Matteo’s eyes never left mine.

“He disappeared with evidence that could have destroyed both our families. Account information, contacts, details of operations spanning decades.”

The room seemed to spin around me.

“My father was in the mafia.”

“He was much more than that.”

Matteo’s thumb stroked along my jawline.

“He was the keeper of secrets. And when he vanished, those secrets vanished with him.”

I pushed his hand away.

Standing on shaky legs.

“This is insane. My father was an accountant who abandoned us. My mother always said—”

“Your mother protected you the only way she knew how.”

Matteo interrupted gently.

“With lies.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

Backing away from him.

“I don’t believe you. This is just another manipulation to get me to do what you want.”

His eyes flashed with frustration.

“Why would I make this up? Think, Emma. Why would the Calibri family be so interested in Daniel’s girlfriend? Why would he target you specifically?”

“I don’t know,” I cried.

Wrapping my arms around myself.

“Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe he actually liked me.”

“There are no coincidences in my world.”

Matteo stepped toward me.

Wincing slightly at the movement.

“Daniel was sent to find you. To get close to you. Because the Calibri family believes your father left his insurance policy with you.”

“Insurance policy?”

“Evidence.”

Matteo clarified.

“Against both families. Your father was smart. He knew if anything happened to him, he needed leverage to protect your mother and you.”

“But I don’t have anything,” I protested.

“I would know if I had some kind of mafia evidence vault.”

“Would you?”

Matteo’s gaze was penetrating.

“Your safety deposit box in Zurich was opened twenty-three years ago. By your mother. Three weeks after your father disappeared.”

The revelation struck me speechless.

My mother had never mentioned Switzerland.

Never hinted at any connection to my father after he left.

Yet according to Matteo, she had traveled to another continent.

Presumably with me in tow.

To access a safety deposit box my father had set up.

“She never told me,” I whispered.

“Of course not.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle.

“She was protecting you. Just as I’m trying to do now.”

“By taking me to Switzerland to access whatever’s in this box.”

He nodded.

“Before the Calibri family forces you to do the same. They know about the box, Emma. That’s what they got from Daniel before I found him.”

Fear gripped me.

“And what happens when we find whatever’s in there? You take it and then what? Kill me like you probably killed my father?”

Anger flashed in Matteo’s eyes.

“I didn’t kill your father. I was a child when he disappeared.”

His voice lowered.

“And whatever you may think of me, I would never harm you. Ever.”

The conviction in his voice was absolute.

And despite everything, I believed him.

Which scared me almost as much as the situation itself.

“Then what?” I asked.

My voice small.

“What happens after Switzerland?”

Something shifted in his expression.

A softening.

A vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

“That depends on what we find. And on you.”

“On me?”

“On whether you can accept who I am.”

He closed the distance between us.

His hands coming to rest lightly on my shoulders.

“On whether you can accept who you are.”

“I know who I am.”

I whispered.

Though I felt less certain by the minute.

His smile was sad.

“You’re only just beginning to discover who you are, Emma Reynolds. Daughter of Robert Reynolds. The woman who saved my life without hesitation. The woman who looks at a wounded monster and wants to heal him rather than run away.”

“You’re not a monster,” I said.

Surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.

Something vulnerable and hungry flashed in his eyes.

Before I could process it, his lips were on mine.

The kiss desperate and consuming.

I should have pushed him away.

Instead, my hands found their way to his bare shoulders.

Careful of his injuries.

But pulling him closer nonetheless.

He tasted of whiskey and danger.

My body responded with a heat that terrified and thrilled me.

His hand slid from my shoulders to my waist.

Drawing me against his body despite his injuries.

I gasped against his mouth.

He deepened the kiss.

One hand tangling in my hair.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard.

I could see my own confusion and desire mirrored in his eyes.

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured.

His forehead resting against mine.

“Tell me and I’ll stop. I’ll take you to Switzerland, recover what’s in that box, and let you go back to your life.”

I should have said it.

Should have denied the undeniable pull.

But the lie wouldn’t come.

“I can’t,” I whispered instead.

His eyes darkened with satisfaction and hunger.

“Then trust me, Emma. Let me protect you. Let me show you who you really are.”

“And who is that?”

My voice trembled.

His thumbs traced my cheekbones.

With surprising tenderness.

“Mine,” he said simply.

“As I have been yours since the moment you pulled me from that restaurant.”

The possessiveness in his voice should have frightened me.

Instead, it sent a thrill through my body.

This was madness.

Stockholm syndrome.

Trauma bonding.

Something equally unhealthy.

Yet in that moment, with his hands cradling my face and his eyes boring into mine, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“When do we leave for Switzerland?”

My voice steadier than I expected.

Relief and something like triumph flashed across his face.

“Tonight.”

“After the doctor sees to your injuries.”

As if summoned by his words, the elevator chimed.

Announcing an arrival.

“That will be him now,” Matteo said.

Reluctantly releasing me.

“We’ll continue this conversation later.”

As he moved to greet the doctor, I touched my fingers to my lips.

Still feeling the pressure of his kiss.

Still tasting him on my tongue.

I was stepping into a world I didn’t understand.

Pursuing secrets about a father I’d never known.

With a dangerous man who claimed I belonged to him.

And the most terrifying part was how right it felt.

The Legacy

Zurich in November was achingly beautiful.

Clean streets.

Crisp air.

Distant Alps visible through breaks in the low clouds.

Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed the picturesque city.

Medieval buildings.

Serene lake.

Instead, I stood in the private viewing room of the Swiss National Bank.

My hands trembling as I inserted the key Matteo had given me.

Into the safety deposit box.

The journey here had been a blur.

Private jet from Boston.

Luxury hotel suite where I’d barely slept.

Matteo’s constant presence.

Alternately protective and possessive.

We hadn’t spoken about the kiss we’d shared.

Though I’d caught him watching me with dark, hungry eyes.

When he thought I wasn’t looking.

“Are you ready?”

Matteo asked now.

His voice low in the quiet room.

We were alone.

Though I knew Salvatore and at least two other security men waited outside.

I nodded.

Unable to form words.

This box contained answers about my father.

About my past.

A past I was increasingly unsure I wanted to know.

The lock turned with a soft click.

I lifted the lid.

Inside lay a leather-bound journal.

A USB drive.

A small velvet pouch.

A sealed envelope with my name written on it.

Handwriting I didn’t recognize.

With shaking hands, I picked up the envelope first.

“Open it,” Matteo urged.

His body tense beside mine.

I broke the seal.

Extracted a single sheet of paper.

The letter was brief.

Dated twenty-three years ago.

Signed, “Dad.”

My eyes filled with tears as I read his words.

An apology for leaving.

An explanation of danger.

Instructions to my mother to keep me safe at all costs.

He wrote of evidence gathered against both the Reichi and Calibri families.

Intended as insurance to protect us if he was discovered.

“He knew they were closing in on him,” I whispered.

Looking up at Matteo.

“He ran to protect my mother and me.”

Matteo’s expression was unreadable.

“The evidence?”

I gestured to the USB drive.

“I assume it’s on there. And probably documented in the journal.”

He reached for the drive.

But I caught his wrist.

“Wait. There’s more to the letter.”

My eyes returned to the paper.

Reading my father’s final instructions.

The evidence was never meant to be used unless my mother or I were threatened.

It was a deterrent, not a weapon.

And if I was reading this letter, it meant his safeguards had failed.

The last paragraph made my breath catch.

“If you’re reading this, Emma, you’ve become entangled in the world I tried to keep you from. Trust no one from either family. The only way out is to use this evidence to force a truce between them. With your safety as a condition. Remember, cara mia. You are a Reynolds. We bow to no one.”

I set the letter down.

My mind racing.

My father had hidden evidence against both families.

Expecting me to use it as leverage if necessary.

He’d given me the power to potentially destroy Matteo’s organization.

The very man who now claimed to be protecting me.

“Well?”

Matteo asked.

His patience clearly wearing thin.

I met his gaze steadily.

“He says I shouldn’t trust you.”

Something flashed in his dark eyes.

Anger.

Hurt.

Perhaps both.

“And do you trust me?”

It was the question I’d been asking myself.

Since that first night in the restaurant.

The rational answer was no.

Matteo was a criminal.

A man of violence who had effectively kidnapped me.

A man who wanted something my father had stolen.

Trusting him was madness.

Yet I couldn’t deny the connection between us.

The way he looked at me with equal parts desire and reverence.

The gentleness of his touch despite the power I knew his hands held.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“But I know I can’t run from this anymore.”

I picked up the USB drive.

Held it out to him.

A test as much as an offering.

“My father gathered evidence against both families. Enough to send the leaders—including your father, I’m assuming—to prison for life.”

Matteo’s expression darkened.

“My father died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

And meant it.

He took the drive from my hand.

Examining it before slipping it into his pocket.

“This is what the Calibri family has been searching for. What Daniel was sent to find. And now you have it.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“What happens now? You destroy the evidence and eliminate the liability. Me?”

Anger flashed across his face.

“I told you before. I would never harm you.”

“Then what?”

He stepped closer.

His presence overwhelming in the small room.

“We use this. As my father should have used it twenty-three years ago. To end the war with the Calibri family. Once and for all.”

I blinked in surprise.

“You want peace?”

“I want you safe.”

His voice roughened.

“And as long as this conflict continues, you’ll never be safe.”

“Because of what I know. Because of who you are to me?”

His hand came up to cup my cheek.

His touch surprisingly gentle.

For a man who had likely killed more people than I wanted to consider.

“The Calibri family will never stop coming for you, Emma. Not just because of this evidence. But because they’ll want to hurt me through you.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

“Through me.”

His thumb traced my lower lip.

His eyes following the movement with naked hunger.

“I’ve made my feelings for you clear. And in my world, feelings are liabilities. Weapons to be used against you.”

“Is that all I am? A liability?”

I tried to keep the hurt from my voice.

And failed.

“No.”

The single word contained a wealth of emotion.

“You’re the woman who saved my life. The woman who sees beyond the monster to the man. The woman I can’t seem to let go of. Though it would be safer for both of us if I could.”

Before I could respond, his phone vibrated.

He checked it.

His expression hardening.

“We need to go now.”

“What’s wrong?”

Alarm shot through me at his sudden urgency.

“Paolo Calibri is in Zurich. He’s already here.”

He grabbed the journal and velvet pouch.

Stuffing them into his pocket alongside the USB drive.

“We have a leak.”

Fear gripped me as he took my arm.

Guiding me swiftly from the viewing room.

Salvatore met us in the hallway.

His expression grim.

“They’re surrounding the building,” he reported.

“At least eight men.”

Matteo’s grip on my arm tightened.

“The back exit?”

“Covered. The basement garage is our best option. The car is ready.”

We moved through the bank’s corridors at a pace just short of running.

Bank employees giving us curious looks.

I could feel panic building in my chest.

But Matteo’s steady presence beside me kept it at bay.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured as we approached the elevator to the garage.

“If anything happens, you run. Don’t look back.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

I surprised myself with the fierceness in my voice.

Something like pride flashed in his eyes.

Before the elevator doors closed.

Sealing us in together for the short descent.

The garage was dimly lit.

Eerily quiet when we stepped out.

Our footsteps echoed on the concrete.

Salvatore led us toward a black SUV with tinted windows.

We were halfway there when the sound of screeching tires filled the space.

“Down!”

Matteo shouted.

Pushing me behind a concrete pillar.

Two vehicles squealed into the garage.

Blocking our path to the SUV.

Salvatore drew his weapon.

As did the two security men waiting with our vehicle.

Matteo pushed me firmly against the pillar.

His body shielding mine.

He extracted his own gun from inside his jacket.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

The fear in my chest was nearly paralyzing.

But I managed to nod.

Matteo’s eyes held mine for a brief, intense moment.

Then he moved away.

Joining his men as they took defensive positions.

Men emerged from the blocking vehicles.

Six, maybe seven of them.

All armed.

Among them was an older man in an expensive suit.

Silver hair and hawkish features.

Marking him as someone in authority.

“Paolo,” Matteo called.

His voice echoing in the garage.

“This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.”

“You have something that belongs to me, Reichi.”

The older man—Paolo Calibri—replied.

“Give me the Reynolds girl and the evidence. Perhaps I’ll let you live.”

Matteo’s laugh was cold.

“You’re not in a position to make demands.”

“No.”

Paolo gestured.

More armed men appeared from behind parked cars.

We were surrounded.

“It seems I am.”

I watched from my hiding place.

Heart hammering in my chest.

The two mafia leaders faced off across the garage.

Matteo stood tall.

Seemingly unconcerned by the superior numbers against him.

“You killed my father,” Paolo continued.

Voice sharp with old hatred.

“You’ve taken my territory. Corrupted my allies. And now you’ve stolen my nephew.”

“Your nephew was a traitor to us both.”

Matteo replied evenly.

“And I didn’t kill your father. That was my father’s decision. One I would not have made.”

“Pretty words from a Reichi.”

Paolo spat on the ground.

“Your family has always been skilled at lying.”

“No lies today.”

Matteo took a step forward.

His gun held loosely at his side.

“I have what Robert Reynolds stole. Evidence against both our families. Enough to destroy us both.”

Paulo’s expression tightened.

“Then give it to me.”

“So you can destroy it? No.”

Matteo shook his head.

“But I’m willing to offer terms.”

“I don’t negotiate with Reicis.”

“Then consider it a business proposal.”

Matteo’s voice was calm. Reasonable.

“The evidence stays in a secure location. Unused. As long as both our families abide by certain conditions.”

Paolo’s eyes narrowed.

“What conditions?”

“Peace between our organizations. Clear territorial boundaries, respected by both sides. And Emma Reynolds remains untouched, under my personal protection.”

I felt a rush of conflicting emotions.

He was using the evidence exactly as my father had intended.

As leverage for peace.

But he was also claiming me publicly.

Marking me as his.

In a way that both protected and endangered me.

Paolo laughed.

A harsh sound that echoed in the concrete space.

“You expect me to believe you won’t use this evidence against me the moment it serves your purpose?”

“I’m offering you my word.”

Matteo’s voice hardened.

“And unlike my father, I keep it.”

Tension crackled in the air.

The two men stared at each other across the garage.

I held my breath.

Keenly aware that my future—and possibly my life—hung in the balance.

“And the girl,” Paolo asked finally.

“What is she to you that you would risk so much?”

Matteo’s response was immediate and unflinching.

“Everything.”

The single word sent a shock through my system.

He hadn’t hesitated.

Hadn’t qualified his answer.

In front of his enemies.

His own men.

He declared me everything to him.

Paolo studied him for a long moment.

Then nodded slowly.

“I’ve heard you were different from your father. Perhaps the rumors are true.”

He holstered his weapon.

“Very well, Reichi. Peace for now. But if that evidence ever surfaces, or if I learn you’ve betrayed this agreement, I will kill everyone you’ve ever cared for before I come for you. Understood?”

Matteo lowered his gun as well.

“The same applies if any harm comes to Emma.”

The two men approached each other cautiously.

Security teams watching with hands still on weapons.

They spoke too quietly for me to hear.

But after a tense minute, they clasped hands briefly.

A businessman’s handshake.

Sealing a deal with life and death stakes.

Paolo and his men departed first.

Their vehicles backing slowly out of the garage.

Only when the sound of their engines faded did Matteo turn toward my hiding place.

“Emma,” he called softly.

“It’s safe.”

I emerged on shaky legs.

Adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

Matteo crossed to me in quick strides.

His hands coming up to frame my face.

Eyes searching mine with an intensity that took my breath away.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

I shook my head.

“I’m okay.”

Relief flooded his features.

Followed by something deeper.

More vulnerable.

Without warning, he pulled me against him.

His arms encircling me in a fierce embrace.

I could feel his heart hammering against my cheek.

Matching the frantic rhythm of my own.

“I thought I might lose you,” he murmured into my hair.

“You called me everything,” I whispered against his chest.

He pulled back enough to look into my eyes.

“It wasn’t a negotiation tactic.”

The raw honesty in his gaze undid me.

I rose on my tiptoes.

Pressed my lips to his.

Pouring all the confusion, fear, and emerging feelings into the kiss.

He responded instantly.

One hand tangling in my hair.

The other pressing against my lower back.

Holding me to him as if he feared I might disappear.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard.

Salvatore cleared his throat discreetly from near the SUV.

Matteo kept his eyes on mine.

A hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“We should go,” he said.

Though he made no move to release me.

“It’s not safe to linger.”

“Where will we go now?”

I asked.

Suddenly aware that my old life was irretrievably gone.

I couldn’t return to waiting tables.

To my tiny apartment.

To pretending I didn’t know about the world I’d been dragged into.

The world that apparently I’d been born into.

Something vulnerable flickered in Matteo’s eyes.

“That depends on you. On what you want.”

“What I want?”

I repeated.

Unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

No one had asked what I wanted since this began.

“Yes, Emma.”

His thumbs traced gentle circles on my cheeks.

“You have choices now. The evidence is secure. The Calibri family will honor the truce. At least for now. You could disappear. Start fresh somewhere new. I would provide everything you need—”

“Without you?”

The thought sent an unexpected pang through my chest.

His expression tightened.

“That would be safest for you.”

“But not what you want.”

I guessed.

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

His voice was rough.

“I promised to protect you. And sometimes protection means letting go.”

I studied his face.

The face of a dangerous man who had killed.

Who commanded an empire built on crime.

Who had effectively kidnapped me less than a week ago.

A man who had also protected me.

Respected me.

Looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’d been asking his entire life.

“What if I don’t want to be let go?” I asked softly.

Hope flared in his eyes.

Quickly tempered with caution.

“My world is dangerous, Emma. Violent. You’ve seen only glimpses of it.”

“I’m my father’s daughter, apparently.”

I gave him a small, shaky smile.

“Maybe I’m stronger than you think.”

His answering smile was slow. Wondering.

“I’ve never underestimated your strength. It’s what drew me to you from the beginning.”

“Then don’t send me away.”

I held his gaze steadily.

“Teach me about this world. My world now, too. Let me make my own choices. With open eyes.”

Matteo studied me for a long moment.

As if memorizing my features.

“You understand what you’re asking? To be with me is to accept certain realities. I can change some things, but not everything. Not who I am at my core.”

“I’m not asking you to change.”

I placed my palm against his chest.

Feeling his heart beat beneath my hand.

“I’m asking you to let me in.”

The vulnerability in his eyes took my breath away.

For all his power, his wealth, his danger.

Matteo Reichi had never expected to be chosen.

To be wanted despite the darkness he carried.

“If you stay,” he said.

His voice low and intense.

“You will be mine to protect, to cherish, to love. I don’t share what’s mine, Emma. Ever.”

The possessiveness in his words should have frightened me.

Instead, they sent a thrill through my body.

“And you’ll be mine.”

I countered.

Surprising myself with my boldness.

“To hold accountable, to challenge, to love. I don’t share either.”

His smile was fierce and beautiful.

“Then we understand each other.”

He sealed our agreement with a kiss.

A promise.

A claiming.

A beginning.

When we parted, I knew with absolute certainty that my life had changed irrevocably.

That I had changed.

The waitress who had pulled a stranger from gunfire was gone.

Replaced by a woman who stood beside one of the most powerful men in Boston’s underworld.

Not as his victim.

Not as his weakness.

But as his partner.

As we drove away from the bank, Matteo’s arm around my shoulders, I thought of my father’s last words.

“You are a Reynolds. We bow to no one.”

Perhaps he would understand my choice better than I’d initially thought.

I wasn’t bowing to Matteo.

I was choosing him.

Eyes wide open to both the danger and the devotion he offered.

The future stretching before us was uncertain.

Likely dangerous.

But for the first time in my life, I felt fully alive.

In saving Matteo Reichi, I had inadvertently saved myself.

Discovering a strength and capacity for love I never knew I possessed.

As the Swiss landscape blurred outside the window, I leaned into him.

Accepting both the man and the world he inhabited.

My world now, too.

“Take me home,” I whispered against his shoulder.

His arms tightened around me.

His lips brushing my temple.

“Always, amore. Always.”