Mister, put your dog in timeout!” Three-year-old Lucy Bennett marched into the private meeting of the most feared man in Chicago with one hand on her hip and the other gripping what

The rain continued to pour throughout the remainder of the night, washing the shattered glass from the terrace steps.

By three in the morning, Nora and Lucy had been moved to the primary master suite on the second floor of the main mansion. Lucy had slept through the entire commotion, sheltered by the thick walls and the sedative effect of utter exhaustion. She now lay peacefully in the center of Vincent’s massive king-sized bed, Captain Carrot tucked securely beneath her chin.

In the adjoining private sitting room, Nora sat wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket on the velvet sofa. A cup of chamomile tea sat untouched on the mahogany side table.

She was trembling from the delayed shock.

The door opened silently. Vincent walked in, wearing clean dry clothes—a dark gray henley shirt and black trousers. His wet hair was combed back, his face shadowed with stubble.

He crossed the room and sat on the low coffee table directly in front of her.

“The doctors checked her while she slept,” Vincent said gently. “Lucy has no scratches, no bruises. She didn't wake up once.”

Nora lifted her head. Her face was pale, her hazel eyes red-rimmed. “You saved our lives. If you hadn't brought Bishop… if you hadn't come through that window…”

“I gave you my word,” Vincent said simply. “My word doesn't expire when the sun goes down.”

Nora swallowed, looking down at her hands. The bruises where Greg had grabbed her arm were already turning an ugly shade of violet.

Vincent’s gaze tracked the marks. A flicker of raw, unadulterated rage crossed his features before he forced his breath to steady. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and touched the edge of her bruise with the tips of his fingers.

“He will never touch you again,” Vincent murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, Nora. You and Lucy are safe now.”

A sob caught in Nora’s throat. “Why are you doing this for us? We’re nobody to you, Vincent! I’m just a woman who cleans your floors. Lucy is just a child who ruined your dog’s toy. Why would you risk a gang war with Valenti for two people you barely know?”

Vincent didn't pull his hand away. Instead, his fingers slid up from her arm, over the delicate curve of her shoulder, coming to rest along the side of her neck. He felt the wild, erratic flutter of her pulse beneath his palm.

“Do you really think this is about loyalty to an employee, Nora?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Nora’s breath hitched. She looked into his dark eyes and saw the fierce, unyielding hunger burning beneath the surface—a hunger tempered by an overwhelming need to protect.

“I’ve lived in this house for ten years completely alone,” Vincent whispered, his thumb lightly stroking her cheekbone. “I had men who feared me, politicians who took my money, and a city that bowed when I walked into a room. And every single night, I came home to cold stone and silence.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting lightly against hers. The scent of rain, cedarwood, and clean soap enveloped her completely.

“Then a little girl marched into my boardroom and told me I was cheating at timeout,” Vincent continued, a faint, bittersweet smile touching his lips. “And her mother looked at me not with greed, not with ambition, but with the purest, bravest heart I have ever seen. You gave this house life, Nora. You gave *me* a reason to want tomorrow.”

Tears spilled freely down Nora’s cheeks, but this time they weren't tears of terror.

“Vincent…” she breathed.

“I won't let them take that away from me,” Vincent vowed against her skin. “I will burn this entire city to the ground before I let anyone hurt you.”

Unable to bear the distance any longer, Nora closed the final inch between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was electric—desperate, fierce, and full of raw relief. Vincent groaned deep in his chest, pulling her off the sofa and into his arms, crushing her against his chest as if trying to shield her from the entire world. Nora buried her hands in his thick, damp hair, pouring all her fears, all her gratitude, and all the blossoming love she had tried so hard to deny into the heat of his mouth.

When they finally broke apart for air, both breathing heavily, Vincent rested his chin against the crown of her head, his arms wrapped around her like an impenetrable fortress.