THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED HIS FIANCÉE FORCE ME TO PICK UP HER SCATTERED PEARLS WITH AN INJURED HAND—THEN SHE SAID, “SHE HURT IT IN MY BEDROOM,” BEFORE HE HAD ASKED WHAT HAPPENED. The first pearl rolled beneath Luca Moretti's chair.

"Put the boy down, Emily," Julian ordered softly. His voice didn't need volume to carry authority; it dripped with a terrifying, absolute certainty.

I hugged Leo tighter to my chest. He was burying his face in my neck, shaking like a leaf in a winter storm. "Don't touch him," I spat, my voice trembling but defiant.

Julian chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He stepped closer, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and expensive leather wafting off him. He casually tossed my cheap silver bracelet onto Anthony Mercer’s unconscious chest.

"I have no interest in hurting children, Emily. I leave that kind of butchery to the Moretti family," Julian said, his eyes flashing with a sudden, dark hatred. "I want the ledger. And since Anthony here failed to procure it, I need a new bargaining chip."

He reached out with lightning speed. His large, calloused hand clamped around my injured right wrist.

I screamed as an agonizing bolt of pain shot up my arm. My fingers involuntarily opened, and I dropped the brass shoehorn.

Julian ripped Leo from my grasp, handing the crying boy backward to Daniel, who had just emerged from the shadows of the hallway.

"Take the boy to the basement," Julian commanded without looking back. "Put him in the vault. If Luca tries anything stupid, shoot the kid."

"No!" I lunged forward, but Julian backhanded me across the face.

The force of the blow threw me to the floor. My head cracked against the hardwood, and for a terrifying second, my vision swam with black spots. I tasted copper in my mouth.

"Get up," Julian said, grabbing a handful of my uniform apron and hauling me to my feet.

Vanessa scrambled out of the bedroom, clutching her bruised wrist. "Julian, you promised! You said if I got you inside, you'd bring my son!"

Julian looked at his frantic wife with an expression of profound boredom. "Your son is perfectly safe in Boston, Vanessa. As long as you smile tomorrow night and say 'I do' before I blow Luca's brains all over the wedding cake."

Vanessa went utterly pale. "Boston? You said he was here! You sent the rosary!"

"I lied," Julian said simply.

He shoved me forward down the hallway.

For the next twenty-four hours, the Chicago mansion was transformed from a home into a heavily armed fortress. Julian’s men had completely overtaken Luca's security detail, using Daniel's inside knowledge to neutralize the loyalists. I was locked in a small, windowless pantry off the main kitchen. I had no food, no water, and no idea if Leo or Luca were even alive.

The only thing keeping me sane was the memory of Luca’s eyes when he looked at the pocket watch. He was a survivor. He wouldn't let this happen.

The next evening, the door to the pantry finally swung open.

A woman in a catering uniform walked in. She dropped a beautiful, dark blue silk dress onto the flour-dusted floor.

"Put it on," she ordered coldly. "Mr. Rossi wants you upstairs."

"Why?" I rasped, my throat raw from crying.

"Because it's time for the engagement party."

Ten minutes later, I was marched up the servants' staircase, flanked by two armed men. The mansion was ablaze with light. A string quartet was playing classical music in the grand ballroom. The irony was suffocating. Dozens of Chicago’s elite, oblivious to the hostage situation, were drinking champagne in a house entirely controlled by a dead man.

I was pushed into the opulent study—the same room where this nightmare had begun.

Julian Rossi was standing by the fireplace, wearing a pristine tuxedo. But it wasn't Julian that made my breath catch.

It was Luca.

Luca was sitting in his leather desk chair. His face was bruised, a nasty cut opened above his left eye, and his hands were zip-tied behind his back. But his eyes were clear, deadly, and locked entirely on me.

"Emily," Luca breathed, visibly relaxing for the first time as he saw I was alive.

"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, tears spilling over my cheeks.

"How touching," Julian sneered, pouring himself a glass of Luca’s scotch. "The mafia king and the little maid. Tell me, Luca, does she know that your father slaughtered my entire family just to steal the territory you rule today?"

Luca didn't look at Julian. He kept his eyes on me. "Where is Leo, Emily?"

"In the basement vault," I sobbed. "Daniel took him."

Julian sighed, taking a sip of the scotch. "Enough reunions. The guests are waiting for a toast. Here is how this works, Luca. You are going to walk out there, hold Vanessa's hand, and announce that the wedding has been moved to tonight."

"And if I refuse?" Luca asked, his voice dead calm.

Julian pulled a small, black remote detonator from his tuxedo pocket. A tiny red light blinked on its surface.

"The vault your nephew is sitting in is wired with enough C4 to level the entire east wing of this house," Julian said smoothly. "You give me the ledger containing your offshore accounts and political bribes, you marry my wife, and you sign the empire over. Or the boy turns into ash."

The discovery hit me like a train. Julian didn't just want the money. He wanted the ledger because it contained the names of every corrupt judge and politician in the city. He wanted to destroy the Moretti name in the press, dismantle their protection, and humiliate Luca before killing him.

Luca stared at Julian. The mafia boss didn't look defeated. He looked like a predator waiting for the cage to open.

"You want the ledger?" Luca asked softly.

"I do," Julian smiled.

Luca nodded toward the heavy oil painting hanging behind his desk. "It's behind the portrait. In the wall safe."

Julian's eyes lit up with greedy triumph. He walked behind the desk, shoving Luca's chair out of the way. He pulled the heavy oil painting off the wall, revealing a sleek, steel keypad safe.

"The code?" Julian demanded.

"Emily knows it," Luca said.

Julian stopped. He turned around, staring at me.

I looked at Luca, my heart stopping. I had no idea what the code was.

But Luca was staring at my injured right hand, then looking pointedly at the heavy brass fireplace poker resting on the stone hearth just two feet away from me.

He wasn't giving up. He was giving me an opening.

"Well, Emily?" Julian stepped toward me, grabbing my shoulder roughly. "Punch it in."