I hid the gift men wanted to steal from me until a mafia boss fell in love with the woman who refused to surrender it.

Dawn broke over the Hudson Valley, washing the Rinaldi estate in pale, watery gold light. The storm had passed, leaving behind a world slick with glittering frost and fallen maple leaves.

Inside the main mansion’s high-security basement, things were significantly less peaceful.

I stood behind a reinforced two-way mirror alongside Sebastian and Daniel, watching the Chicago operative we had captured in the kennel yard pacing frantically inside a cold, concrete holding cell. His hands were zip-tied behind his back, a white bandage wrapped tightly around his bleeding shoulder where Sebastian’s bullet had grazed him.

“He’s not going to talk easily,” Daniel warned, checking the clip of his sidearm. “Standard syndicate conditioning. They’d rather bite their own tongues off than give up their handler's identity.”

“Then we don't ask him to talk,” Sebastian said smoothly, his eyes never leaving the pacing man inside the cell. “We let him call home.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Boss?”

“Give him his encrypted satellite phone back,” Sebastian ordered, turning toward the heavy steel door. “Let him panic. Let him call Victor Vance and tell him that his little extraction team failed, that the girl is safe, and that she’s currently staying at a private compound in the Hudson Valley owned by Sebastian Rinaldi.”

I gasped, clutching the sleeve of Sebastian’s dark sweater. “Are you crazy? If he tells Vance where we are, they’ll send an army! They’ll bring heavy artillery, airstrikes, whatever it takes to burn this place to the ground!”

Sebastian stopped, turning to look down at me. His expression was impossibly calm, carved from cold marble and absolute confidence.

“Let them come, Emma,” Sebastian said, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. “For ten years, the federal government and regional cartels have respected the Rinaldi boundaries because they know what happens when someone brings a war to my doorstep. It’s time we remind Victor Vance why people whisper my name in the dark.”

An hour later, the plan was set.

The captive operative was tossed his satellite phone inside the cell. Through the audio monitor, we listened as his trembling fingers punched in the emergency encryption code.

*“Vance,”* a cold, metallic voice crackled over the speaker on the other end of the line. *“Report.”*

*“We... we messed up, Mr. Vance,”* the operative stammered, coughing violently. *“The extraction failed. The team is wiped out. It’s Rinaldi... Sebastian Rinaldi. She’s at his estate in the Hudson Valley. He’s protecting her!”*

A long, heavy silence stretched across the line. When Victor Vance finally spoke, his voice was laced with frozen, venomous amusement.

*“Sebastian Rinaldi,”* Vance murmured. *“A regional mafia boss playing white knight. Tell him that Apex Bio is coming for the asset. And when we burn his little stone mansion to the ground, he’ll be the first one hanging from the rafters.”*

The line went dead.

Sebastian, standing beside the audio console, slowly reached out and clicked off the receiver. A slow, terrifying smile spread across his lips—a predator tasting blood in the water.

“Well,” Sebastian said, looking over at me. “It appears we have an appointment.”

“You’re enjoying this,” I whispered, half-appalled, half-fascinated by the sheer, unbridled danger radiating off the man.

“I’m enjoying the fact that someone finally gave me a reason to clean house,” Sebastian replied, stepping close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. “Now. While we wait for Mr. Vance to arrive, I have something I want to show you.”

“Sebastian, we are literally about to be attacked by an international terrorist syndicate—”

“Which is precisely why you need to know how to handle yourself,” he interrupted, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the basement toward the estate’s private underground shooting range.

For the next three hours, the world outside ceased to exist.

No corporate conspiracies. No hit squads from Chicago. No wooden box hiding explosive secrets.

There was only the deafening roar of gunfire, the acrid smell of gunpowder, and Sebastian standing directly behind me, his chest pressed flush against my back, his large hands guiding mine as I held a heavy Sig Sauer pistol toward a paper target twenty yards downrange.

“Relax your shoulders,” Sebastian murmured into my ear, his breath hot against my neck, sending electric shivers down my spine. “Don’t fight the recoil. Let it flow through you. Focus on the front sight. Breathe out... and squeeze.”

*Bang.*

The bullet punched clean through the center ring of the target, exactly dead-center.

I let out a breathless laugh, lowering the smoking weapon. “Did you see that?”

Sebastian chuckled, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. For the first time since I had met him, the terrifying mafia boss felt entirely, vulnerably human.

“I saw,” Sebastian whispered softly against my skin. “You’re a natural, Emma. But then again... you’ve been fighting for your life for a very long time.”

He turned me around in his arms, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. The air between us crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with guns or syndicates.

“When this is over,” Sebastian murmured, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly whisper, “when Vance and his men are nothing more than a bad memory... you don't have to run anymore, Emma.”

“And where would I go?” I asked softly, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

Sebastian’s hands tightened around my waist, pulling me so close there was not a millimeter of space left between us.

“Nowhere,” he said fiercely. “You stay right here.”

Before I could answer, before I could process the sudden, overwhelming warmth blooming in my chest, the estate’s primary security alarms began to shriek, flashing a blinding, urgent crimson across the concrete walls of the underground range.

Daniel’s frantic voice crackled over the intercom speaker:

“Boss! Three armored transport trucks just blew through the front gates! They’ve got heavy weaponry, explosives, and at least thirty men! Victor Vance is here!”

Sebastian didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He simply lowered his weapon, looked down at me one last time, and a dangerous, lethal smile touched his lips.