Can You Pick Me Up?” She Asked Through Tears—And the Mafia Boss Knew Something Was Wrong

Within two hours, the Moreno faction ceased to exist.

Silas returned to the estate to find the intruders gone, the glass repaired, and Chloe sitting calmly in the kitchen drinking chamomile tea with Mrs. Gable.

Silas strode into the room, his overcoat still unbuttoned, his dark eyes scanning her from head to toe for any sign of injury.

“Bruno told me what happened,” Silas said, his voice laced with dangerous intensity. “Are you hurt?”

“I broke a very expensive iron sculpture,” Chloe said coolly, setting her teacup down and standing to face him. “And Viktor Moreno?”

“Viktor Moreno is currently residing at the bottom of Lake Michigan inside a very heavy concrete overcoat,” Silas replied flatly. “His capos have surrendered their territories to the syndicate. No one will ever threaten this house again.”

Chloe stepped closer to him. The height difference was stark, but she held her ground, looking up into the eyes of the most feared man in Chicago.

“You know, Silas,” she murmured, a faint, confident smile touching her lips. “When I called you from that alley, I thought you were just a lifeline out of a nightmare.”

“And what do you think now?” Silas asked softly, his hands coming up to rest gently on her waist, pulling her just close enough to feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart.

“I think,” Chloe whispered, her hands resting against the lapels of his charcoal coat, “you might have met your match.”

A genuine, brilliant smile—the kind that chased away every shadow of the cold, ruthless syndicate boss—spread across Silas’s face. He pulled her flush against his chest, bending down to press a warm, lingering kiss to her lips.

Six months later, the downtown skyline of Chicago gleamed under a crisp autumn sun.

On Michigan Avenue, a brand-new, upscale bakery and patisserie buzzed with eager customers, the scent of fresh espresso and vanilla spilling out onto the sidewalk. On the gold-lettered glass storefront, the name shone brightly: Chloé’s Sanctuary.

Inside, Chloe stood behind the marble counter, laughing as she plated a fresh batch of pastries.

Through the front window, a sleek black Maybach pulled quietly to the curb. Silas stepped out, adjusting his cuffs, walking into the warm bakery with an effortless stride. He walked straight past the line of customers, stepping behind the counter to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as he kissed her cheek.