I walked into the home of Chicago’s most feared mafia boss because I desperately needed money, even though his two-year-old son had already sent four nannies to the hospital—or running for their lives. But the moment the child everyone called a “monster” kissed my nose, a bloodstained envelope bearing my name arrived…and Vincent Romano turned deathly pale.

The glass shattered with a violent crack. Mrs. Hastings shrieked as water, shards, and stems blasted into her eyes. The gun went off with a muffled thwip, the bullet shattering a pane of the glass conservatory wall behind me.

"Run, Luca!" I screamed.

Luca didn't hesitate. He scrambled out the side door into the hallway as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Mrs. Hastings staggered back, blood dripping down her face, her eyes wild with rage. "You little bitch!"

She swung the gun toward me again, but I threw my weight into her, tackling her against the iron display racks. We crashed to the floor in a flurry of broken glass and soil. I fought like a feral animal, grabbing her wrist, twisting the gun away from my body.

BANG.

A second shot fired into the floorboards. Pain flared across my ribs—a grazing bullet—but I ignored it, pressing my forearm against her throat until she dropped the weapon.

I shoved the gun across the tile floor, scrambled up, and backed out of the conservatory, locking the heavy brass doors from the outside.

Down the hallway, the heavy blast doors of the main security shaft suddenly buckled with a deafening metallic screech.

Vincent erupted through the smoke like a creature born of fire and fury. His clothes were covered in soot, his face contorted in sheer terror—not for himself, but for us.

"RUBY!" he roared, his voice echoing through the vast corridors.

"Vincent!" I called out, stumbling toward him, holding my bleeding side.

He reached me in three massive strides, pulling me into his arms with a force that almost knocked the breath out of me. He looked down at the blood on my shirt, his eyes going pitch black.

"Are you shot?" he demanded, his hands trembling as he checked my waist.

"It's just a graze," I panted, clutching his shirt. "Mrs. Hastings... she locked you down. Luca is—"

"I’m here, Mama!"

Luca popped out from behind a tall marble statue down the hall, holding a wooden toy train like a club, ready to defend us.

Vincent closed his eyes for a split second, taking a long, shuddering breath of relief. He looked at his son, then brought his gaze back to mine. Before I could process what was happening, Vincent cupped my face in both of his massive hands, leaned down, and kissed me deeply, fiercely, with everything he had held back for days.

The world stopped. The rain against the glass, the smell of gunpowder, the roaring alarms—everything faded away into the heat of his lips against mine.