I was homeless, starving, and holding the only meal I had when I noticed a frightened little boy sitting alone outside a grocery store.

I did as I was told. I took Noah upstairs, locked the double doors to his suite, and kept him busy with a puzzle. But as the hours dragged on, the heavy, unnatural silence hanging over the estate became unbearable.

At 9:00 PM, Noah fell asleep.

I quietly slipped out of the room, walking down the carpeted hallway toward the grand staircase.

The house was dark, save for the soft glow of sconces lining the walls. As I reached the mezzanine, I heard raised, angry voices echoing from Vincent’s ground-floor study.

"You're getting weak, Vincent!" a sharp, oily voice snarled from behind the thick mahogany doors. "Ever since Elena died, you've been hiding in this castle! The Valenti family wants the north docks, and we're taking them!"

"You won't take a single inch of my territory, Damon," Vincent’s deep, terrifying voice growled back. "And if you ever set foot on my private estate uninvited again, you won't leave it on your feet."

A tense, suffocating silence followed.

A moment later, the study doors burst open.

A sleek, dark-haired man in a flashy burgundy suit stormed out into the foyer, flanked by four towering bodyguards. This was Damon Valenti. He had sharp, rat-like features and cold, vicious eyes.

As Damon marched toward the front entrance, he happened to look up at the balcony.

His eyes locked onto me.

Damon stopped in his tracks, a slow, disgusting smirk spreading across his face. He scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my bare neck and simple clothes.

"Well, well," Damon drawled loudly, his voice echoing across the marble foyer. "What do we have here? I heard rumors you brought a homeless stray into your house, Moretti. I didn't realize you were using her to warm your bed."

My blood ran cold. I took a step back from the balcony railing.

Before Damon could say another word, Vincent exploded out of the study.

In a move so fast it was a blur, Vincent crossed the marble foyer, grabbed Damon by his expensive silk lapels, and slammed him violently against the heavy oak front doors!

THUD!

Damon’s bodyguards instantly drew their weapons, but Gabriel and six Moretti guards raised their tactical rifles, pointing them straight at the intruders' heads.

"Say one more word about her," Vincent hissed, his face inches from Damon’s, his grey eyes burning with an unholy, lethal rage. "Just one more word, Damon, and I will tear your throat out right here on my floor."

Damon choked on a gasp, his rat-like eyes wide with sudden, terrifying fear. He realized in an instant that he had crossed a line he couldn't walk back from.

"Get out," Vincent growled, throwing Damon toward the open door. "Before I change my mind."

Damon stumbled onto the front porch, coughing, his bodyguards quickly surrounding him as they scrambled down the steps into their waiting sedans.

The heavy front doors slammed shut.

The foyer fell into total silence.

Vincent stood by the entrance, his broad chest heaving, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. The raw, violent power radiating off him was terrifying. This wasn't just a wealthy businessman—this was a man who ruled an underworld empire with an iron fist.

I stood frozen on the mezzanine stairs, trembling slightly.

Vincent slowly turned around. He looked up at the stairs, catching sight of me standing there in the dim light.

The dark rage in his eyes softened instantly into deep, painful regret. He took a long, steadying breath, running a hand through his dark hair.

He walked slowly up the grand staircase, stopping two steps below me so we were at eye level.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Vincent said, his voice quiet, gravelly, and raw. "I didn't want you to know this side of my life."

"Who are you, Vincent?" I asked softly, searching his face. "Really?"

Vincent hesitated, looking down at his hands. "My family built a shipping empire, Maya. But in a city like Chicago, an empire requires protection. For three generations, the Moretti family has controlled the docks, the logistics, and the security of this region. When my wife was killed two years ago... it was Damon’s family who backed the hitmen. They wanted to break me."

Tears pricked my eyes. "They tried to destroy your family."

"Yes," Vincent rasped, stepping up to stand directly in front of me. He reached out, his massive, warm hand gently cupping the side of my face. His thumb stroked over my cheekbone with incredible tenderness. "I closed my heart after Elena died. I thought I was dead inside. I thought all I had left was revenge and protecting Noah."

He leaned down, his forehead resting gently against mine. His hot breath brushed against my lips.

"And then I met a girl on a frozen bench who gave my son her last piece of bread," Vincent whispered, his voice trembling with an intensity that made my heart leap into my throat. "You brought my son back, Maya. And you brought me back."

"Vincent..." I breathed, wrapping my fingers around his wrist.

He didn't wait. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss was deep, passionate, and filled with months of buried grief, fierce protection, and overwhelming desire. I wrapped my arms around his broad neck, pulling him closer, sinking into his warmth. He groaned softly, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet, holding me as if I were the most precious treasure in the world.