Pick Any Woman You Want, The Mafia Boss Said — But His Dog Led The Girl To A Poor Waitress Instead

By noon the following day, Willa’s modest world had been entirely dismantled.

A fleet of high-end seamstresses, hair stylists, and jewelers had invaded the guest suite under the sharp eye of Kendrick’s personal assistant. Her frayed jeans and threadbare cotton sweaters were replaced by racks of bespoke silk dresses, cashmere knitwear, and tailored coats.

Willa stood before a three-way gilded mirror, staring at a woman she barely recognized. The emerald green velvet evening gown clung to every curve of her body, its sweetheart neckline elegant yet daring, spilling down into an empire waist that trailed gracefully along the floor. Her auburn hair had been swept up into an intricate, soft chignon, leaving the delicate column of her neck exposed.

A knock sounded at the door, and Kendrick entered.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Dressed in a flawless tuxedo with black pearl cufflinks, he looked every bit the ruthless sovereign of the underworld. But as his cold eyes swept from the hem of Willa’s gown up to her flushed, radiant face, something in his expression shattered. The icy mask slipped, replaced by an unmistakable hunger that made the air in the room instantly thin.

"You look..." Kendrick began, his voice unusually rough. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "You look like you were born to rule this house."

"I feel like an imposter," Willa said, self-consciously adjusting the sleeve. "Emerald silk doesn't erase who I am."

"Good," Kendrick said, walking toward her with deliberate, heavy strides. "I don't want a hollow socialite who cares only about status. I need a woman with spine. Tonight is the Quarterly Council Dinner at the Plaza Hotel. Barrett Hayes and every capo on the Eastern seaboard will be there. They expect to see a terrified waitress crawling on her knees."

He stopped behind her, their eyes meeting in the glass of the mirror. Reaching into his breast pocket, Kendrick produced a velvet box. Inside lay a breathtaking necklace—a cascading stream of pear-cut diamonds centering around an enormous, flawless emerald that glowed like green fire.

"This belonged to my grandmother," Kendrick said softly, lifting the heavy jewel from its bed. "The matriarch of the Ashford family."

Willa held her breath as Kendrick’s large, warm hands brushed against the sensitive skin of her collarbones, securing the clasp at the back of her neck. His fingers lingered for a second too long against the nape of her neck, his touch sending ripples of heat racing down her spine.

"Why give this to me?" she whispered, looking at his reflection. "They’ll know it’s a fake engagement."

"They will only know what I allow them to see," Kendrick replied, leaning down so his lips hovered just beside her ear. "And tonight, Willa, they will see that anyone who dares reach for you will lose their hand at the wrist."

Downstairs, Penny ran toward them, wearing a dainty white lace dress. Seeing Willa, the child gasped in sheer delight. "Willa! You look like a fairy queen!"

Willa laughed, dropping to her knees despite the expensive velvet, opening her arms wide. Penny threw herself into the hug, giggling as Willa pressed a warm kiss to her cheek. Behind them, Kendrick watched the scene unfold, his jaw tightening as an unfamiliar, fierce tenderness gripped his chest.

Titan bounded forward, his tail wagging like a metronome, giving Willa’s bare shoulder a sloppy, affectionate lick.