She Was Supposed to Last One Week—Instead, the Chubby Maid Turned the Mafia Boss’s World Upside Down

The drive back from the gala was charged with a tension that was entirely different from the fear Mattie had felt on her first day.

The black Maybach glided through the snow-covered streets of South Side Chicago. In the backseat, Salem sat close to her, his long fingers interwoven with hers. His thumb stroked the back of her hand with a rhythmic, possessive gentleness.

"Your week is up tomorrow," Salem said quietly into the dim interior of the car.

The words felt like a splash of ice water. Mattie’s heart sank.

"I know," she murmured, looking down at their joined hands. "The contract. One week."

"The contract is ashes," Salem said, turning her hand over and pressing a kiss into the center of her palm. "You saved my life twice. Frank has already transferred five hundred thousand dollars to your mother’s hospital account. Her treatments are paid for the next ten years. Your brother’s college tuition is settled in full."

Mattie gasped, pulling her hand back in shock. "Salem! That’s—that’s too much! I can't take that from you!"

"It isn't even a fraction of what you’re worth to me," he said roughly. His eyes bore into hers, raw and stripped of his usual mob-boss mask. "You are free, Mattie. Tomorrow morning, you can pack your broken suitcase, walk out of those gates, and never see a gun, a drop of blood, or a monster like me ever again."

Mattie stared at him. The freedom she had prayed for was in her hands. Her family was safe. Her debt was gone. She could go back to a quiet, normal life.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Do you want me to leave?"

Salem leaned forward, crowding her space, his breathing ragged. He cupped both sides of her face with his large, calloused hands, his gray eyes burning with desperation.

"I want you to run," he admitted hoarsely. "Because I am poison. Because the men who want me dead will eventually look at you to hurt me. But God help me, Mattie... if you walk out that door tomorrow, you will take the only light this house has ever had with you."

Before she could speak, Salem’s mouth crashed down onto hers.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, and devastatingly deep. It was the roar of a man who had starved in the cold for a decade finally finding a fire. Mattie whimpered against his lips, her hands tangling into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled him closer, kissing him back with all the pent-up longing, passion, and fierce protectiveness that had consumed her over the past seven days.

When they finally broke apart for air, both of them were shivering.

"I’m not running, Salem," Mattie whispered against his lips. "I chose to open that door on the third floor. I choose to stay."

Salem closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers as if she were his salvation.