He Rejected Every Woman Who Wanted Him—But One Accident With His Maid Changed Everything

All hell broke loose at the northern docks.

Muzzle flashes illuminated the foggy night as gunfire erupted between Victor’s men and the Donati syndicate. Bullets whistled through the air, punching holes through the corrugated steel shipping containers and shattering halogen lamps into showers of sparks.

The moment the first shot was fired, Victor moved with terrifying speed.

Ignoring the fresh pain shooting through his healing side, he drew his twin pistols and charged through the crossfire toward Khloe. He shot two Donati enforcers who tried to step in his path, their bodies collapsing into the snow before they could raise their weapons.

Khloe scrambled backward across the ice, ducking behind a heavy steel pallet as bullets ricocheted around her.

Leo Donati was screaming orders at his fleeing men, grabbing his wounded daughter by her jacket and trying to drag her toward a waiting speedboat at the edge of the dock.

“Kill him! Kill Russo!” Leo shrieked, firing his shotgun blindly into the fog.

Victor reached Khloe’s side, throwing his massive body over her to shield her from the flying shrapnel and stray bullets. He pressed her down against the snow, holding her tight against his chest.

“Are you hit?” Victor demanded urgently, his face inches from hers, searching her eyes for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt? Answer me!”

“I’m fine! I’m okay!” Khloe sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck, smelling the sharp scent of gunpowder and leather off him. “I’m sorry, Victor! I’m so sorry I came!”

“You foolish girl,” Victor growled, though his grip around her was so fierce it nearly took her breath away. “I told you to stay in the panic room!”

“I couldn't let you die!” she cried out over the deafening roar of gunfire.

Victor looked down at her face, wet with tears and flushed from the freezing cold. A sudden, powerful emotion washed over him—a clarity so sharp it cut through twenty years of cynicism and violence. He didn't just want to protect her because she was his staff. He loved her. The mafia Don who had sworn off feeling anything had fallen completely in love with his maid.

“Stay down,” Victor ordered softly, leaning down and pressing a quick, fierce kiss against her forehead. “Marcus! Cover us!”

Marcus and three heavy enforcers moved in, creating a defensive ring around Victor and Khloe with heavy assault shields.

Victor stood up, turning his slate-grey eyes toward Leo Donati, who was attempting to start the engine of the speedboat at the edge of the wooden pier.

Victor walked toward the pier with slow, relentless steps. The gunfire around him began to die down as Donati’s surviving men threw down their weapons, utterly overwhelmed by Victor’s forces.

Leo looked up, panic written across his sweat-drenched face, as Victor’s shadow fell over him. He raised his shotgun with trembling hands.

“Victor! Wait! We can make a deal!” Leo begged, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. “I’ll give you everything! The ports, the warehouses, my family’s entire estate! Just let us go!”

Victor stopped at the edge of the pier. He looked down at Leo, then at Isabella, who lay groaning in the bottom of the boat, clutching her bloody shoulder.

“You targeted the only light I had in this world, Leo,” Victor said, his voice flat and terrifyingly quiet. “You broke the rule.”

Victor raised his weapon.

BANG.

The shot echoed across the dark waters of Lake Michigan, swallowed immediately by the howling wind.

Ten minutes later, the northern docks were secured. Victor’s men were clearing the scene, loading the surviving prisoners into vans and ensuring no trace of the firefight remained for the local authorities to find.

Victor walked back to where Khloe was sitting inside the heated cabin of his armored SUV. A warm blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and a cup of hot tea sat untouched in her hands.

He opened the heavy door and climbed into the seat beside her.

Khloe looked at him. His coat was covered in snow and faint spots of blood, but he was alive. His eyes were soft as he looked at her.

“It’s over,” Victor said quietly. “The Donati family is no longer a threat. You and your brother are safe.”

Khloe set the tea cup down. Without a word, she reached out, grabbed the lapels of his heavy coat, and pulled him down toward her.

She kissed him.

It was a passionate, desperate kiss that carried all the terror, passion, and relief of the past weeks. Victor froze for a fraction of a second in sheer surprise, before his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest as he kissed her back with a fierce, possessive hunger.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Victor rested his forehead against hers, his eyes dark with emotion.