THE MAFIA BOSS NOTICED BLOOD ON THE WHITE ROSES HIS MAID WAS ARRANGING—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE CAUGHT HER HAND IN THE FRONT GATE,” BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHAT HAPPENED. I had almost finished arranging the flowers when the first drop of blood landed on a white rose.

The steady, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor was the first thing that broke through the darkness.

I slowly opened my eyes. The harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me for a moment. The air smelled of iodine and clean linens.

I tried to move my left arm, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through my shoulder, forcing a gasp from my lips.

“Don't move, Olivia.”

The voice was deep, exhausted, and incredibly close.

I turned my head.

Adrian Moretti was sitting in a plastic chair beside my bed. He looked terrible. His usually immaculate hair was a mess, dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, and he was wearing a simple black t-shirt instead of a tailored suit. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in days.

“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, my throat dry as sandpaper.

He immediately poured a small cup of water from a plastic pitcher and held the straw to my lips. His hand was trembling slightly.

“Drink slowly,” he commanded, his eyes intensely focused on my face.

I took a sip, the cool water soothing my parched throat. “How long have I been here?”

“Three days,” Adrian said, leaning back in his chair. “The bullet fractured your clavicle and nicked an artery. You lost a lot of blood. You gave us a scare.”

“Elias?” I asked, panic instantly spiking in my chest.

Adrian’s face softened. The cold mafia boss facade entirely melted away.

“He’s safe,” Adrian smiled softly. “He’s in the pediatric wing down the hall, playing with the nurses. He refused to leave the hospital until you woke up.”

I let out a long, heavy breath, relief washing over me.

“And Vanessa?” I asked hesitantly.

Adrian’s expression hardened into stone. “Vanessa is in federal custody, awaiting trial for attempted murder. Her mother provided a full statement regarding her abandonment of Elias. The security footage of her shooting you was handed over to the police. She will never see the outside of a prison again.”

“But won't that expose your… business?” I asked, confused. The Moretti family avoided the police at all costs.

Adrian looked down at his hands. “The business is over, Olivia.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“When I thought you were going to die in my study,” Adrian said, his voice dropping to a low, raw whisper, “I realized that the power and the money meant absolutely nothing if I couldn't protect the people I care about. My empire was built on violence, and it brought violence into my home. It almost killed you. It almost killed my son.”

He looked up, meeting my eyes.

“I’ve spent the last three days dismantling the syndicate. I handed the corrupt capos over to the feds in exchange for full immunity for myself and Elias. The casinos, the shipping routes, all of it is being liquidated into legitimate trusts.”

I was stunned. Adrian Moretti, the most feared man in Chicago, had burned his own empire to the ground.

“You gave it all up?” I asked softly.

“I gave up a nightmare,” Adrian corrected. He reached out, his warm, rough hand gently wrapping around my good hand. “I’m not a boss anymore, Olivia. I’m just a man with a lot of money and a five-year-old son who needs me.”

His touch sent a jolt of electricity up my arm, making my heart race faster than the monitor beside me.

Before I could process the sudden intimacy, the hospital door swung open.

Elias bounded into the room, holding a brightly colored drawing. He saw my eyes open and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Olivia!” he cheered, running to the side of my bed.

He was careful not to bump my injured shoulder. He climbed onto the edge of the mattress and held up his drawing.

It was a picture of three stick figures holding hands in front of a big house. One man, one little boy, and a woman with brown hair and a bandage on her arm.

“I drew us,” Elias beamed proudly.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I reached out with my good hand and stroked his soft curls.

“It’s beautiful, Elias,” I whispered.

Adrian watched us, a quiet, profound emotion swimming in his dark eyes.

“He hasn't stopped asking about you,” Adrian said softly.

Just then, my cell phone, resting on the bedside table, buzzed loudly.

I frowned, looking at it.

Adrian picked it up. He glanced at the screen, and his jaw instantly clenched.

He turned the phone toward me.

The caller ID read: Julian Moretti.

Adrian’s older brother. The former boss who was supposed to be serving a life sentence in a federal penitentiary.

Adrian stared at the phone. “He shouldn't have access to a phone. Unless…”