She went to her cousin’s engagement hoping no one would notice her, but the mafia boss spent the whole night watching only her

Roman brought Emma to his private townhome in Manhattan instead of returning to the White Plains estate.

The townhome was a sleek, steel-and-glass fortress overlooking the East River. It was minimalist, pristine, and entirely fortified with biometric locks and bulletproof windows.

For three days, Roman kept Emma under strict, twenty-four-hour protection while his organization dismantled the remaining threads of the Moretti syndicate.

Paige and Luca were safe in the White Plains estate, guarded by thirty men. But Emma remained in Roman's private sanctuary.

On the third night, Emma stood in Roman’s vast home library, looking out at the glittering Manhattan skyline.

She wore one of Roman’s dark silk shirts over her leggings, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, smelling of his cedarwood soap.

The heavy oak doors opened, and Roman walked in. He looked tired, his dark suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened at his collar.

"It's done," Roman said quietly, closing the door behind him. "The Moretti family signed a complete surrender agreement. They are leaving the state."

Emma turned around, leaning back against the mahogany desk. "And Luca?"

"Luca is fine. He’s back with Paige. They’re moving the wedding up to next month."

Emma let out a long, slow breath of relief. "Thank God."

Roman walked across the plush carpet, stopping right in front of her. He looked down at her wearing his shirt, his dark eyes softening into something extraordinarily warm.

"You haven't asked to go home," Roman noted softly.

"Would your guards let me leave if I asked?" Emma countered, a faint smile touching her lips.

"No," Roman answered honestly. "They have strict orders to keep you here."

"Because I'm a witness?"

"Because you're my heart," Roman whispered.

The word shattered the remaining distance between them.

Emma’s breath hitched. Roman reached out, his warm, rough hand cupping the back of her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline.

"I’ve spent fifteen years building an empire, Emma," Roman said, his deep voice thick with emotion. "I’ve fought men, bought judges, and carried secrets that would curdle your blood. I thought I was untouchable. I thought I was invincible."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead lightly against hers.

"Then you walked into my house in an eighty-nine-dollar dress, stared at me like I was a human being instead of a monster, and completely destroyed me."

Tears pricked Emma’s eyes. She reached up, placing her palms against his broad, muscular chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thud of his heart.

"You're not a monster, Roman," Emma whispered. "You're just a man who carries too much weight alone."

Roman groaned softly, his lips covering hers in a deep, fierce, intoxicating kiss.

It wasn't gentle. It was a storm of built-up hunger, protection, and absolute devotion. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, surrendering completely to the heat rising between them.

When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathless, their eyes locked in an unspoken vow.

"Stay with me, Emma," Roman rasped against her lips. "Not because you're trapped. Because you belong here. With me."

"I'll stay," Emma whispered back, kissing him again. "On one condition."

Roman smirked against her skin. "Name it."