“I Need a Boyfriend by Tomorrow,” the Plus-Size Maid Whispered—And Her Mafia Boss Heard Everything Sadi had reached rock bottom so completely that she had started talking to herself. Standing over a sink filled with soapy water, she whi

The electronic keypad beeped a sickeningly cheerful tune.

Click.

The heavy steel door swung inward.

Sadi scrambled behind the leather sofa, her heart hammering against her ribs. Roman stood up, ignoring his bleeding side, aiming his pistol squarely at the doorway.

A figure stepped into the dim light of the loft.

Sadi gasped.

It wasn't a heavily armed Moretti hitman.

It was Derek.

He was out of breath, his suit jacket wrinkled, his face pale with terror.

"Don't shoot!" Derek screamed, throwing his hands in the air and dropping to his knees. "Please, don't shoot!"

Roman didn't lower the gun. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet between your eyes for following us."

"I didn't follow you!" Derek sobbed. "They sent me! The Morettis sent me!"

Sadi stood up slowly from behind the couch. "Derek? What are you talking about?"

Derek looked at her, his eyes filled with a pathetic, cowardly shame.

"I've been working for them, Sadi," Derek confessed, his voice breaking. "Two years ago, a man in a gray suit came to my office. He told me who your father really was. He told me if I stayed with you, I was a dead man."

Answer One: Derek hadn't broken up with Sadi because of her weight or his shallow new fiancée. He broke up with her because the Moretti family threatened his life.

Open Two: If Derek was a coward running from the mob, why did he walk directly into a mafia safe house tonight?

"You're a coward," Sadi whispered, the last ounce of hurt she had ever felt for this man instantly vaporizing into disgust.

"I know!" Derek cried. "But they grabbed Chloe tonight at the country club! They told me if I didn't come here and deliver a message, they would kill her!"

"How did they know the address to this safe house?" Roman demanded, stepping closer, pressing the barrel of the gun to Derek's forehead.

Derek squeezed his eyes shut. "They have a mole. Someone on your inner council, Rossi. They said to tell you the 'old man sends his regards'."

Roman froze. The color drained completely from his face.

Reversal: The betrayal didn't come from a rival. The mole in Roman's inner circle was his own uncle, the only family he had left.

"What's the message, Derek?" Sadi asked, stepping around the sofa.

Derek reached into his pocket with trembling fingers. He pulled out a small, folded piece of paper and handed it to Sadi.

Sadi unfolded it.

It was a train ticket.

A one-way ticket for the Chicago L-Train, Blue Line. Destination: Union Station.

"They said you have one hour to bring the key and the map to Union Station," Derek whimpered. "Or they start mailing Chloe back to me in pieces."

Sadi looked down at the child's drawing on the coffee table. The drawing of the tall building with the clock tower.

"Union Station," Sadi breathed. "The clock tower in my drawing... it's the clock at Union Station. That's where my dad hid the box."

Roman lowered his gun, running a hand over his face.

"It's a trap, Sadi," Roman said grimly. "My uncle knows we figured it out. He's using the girl to draw us out into public where my men can't easily protect us."

"We can't just let Chloe die," Sadi argued.

"Chloe is a civilian," Roman said coldly. "In my world, civilians die every day."

Sadi walked right up to Roman, her emerald dress stained with his blood. She didn't feel small anymore. She didn't feel like a maid.

"In my world," Sadi said fiercely, "we don't leave innocent people to die because it's inconvenient."

Roman stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her face. The hardness in his expression slowly fractured, replaced by a profound, agonizing respect.

"You're too good for this life, Sadi," Roman whispered.

Suddenly, a red laser dot appeared on the concrete wall behind Roman's head.

"Sniper!" Roman roared.

He tackled Sadi to the floor just as a high-caliber gunshot shattered the steel-reinforced window.

The bullet tore through the space where Roman’s head had been a fraction of a second earlier.