Her Doctor Secretly Sent Photos of Her Bruises to the Mafia Boss at Midnight—His Response Was Immediate

In the dim, yellow light of the hotel basement, Selene worked with terrifying focus.

Her hands were completely steady despite the fact that gunmen were hunting them on the street above. She disinfected the deep gash, applied pressure, and placed four tight butterfly closures across the torn skin before securing it with heavy medical tape.

Damen watched her the entire time, his breath coming in slow, measured drags, his gray eyes burning into hers.

"Done," she whispered, leaning back against the cold concrete wall, her chest heaving. "That will hold for two hours if you don't do anything stupid like tackle another SUV."

Damen reached out with his uninjured hand, his large fingers closing over her wrist, pulling her toward him until she was resting against his chest.

"Why didn't you run when the car crashed?" Damen asked softly, his face inches from hers. "You could have disappeared into the storm. The police would have found you in ten minutes."

Selene looked into his gray eyes, feeling the heat of his body radiating through his torn shirt, feeling the fast, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

"I don't leave my patients," she whispered.

"I'm not your patient, Selene," Damen growled softly, his hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the curve of her hairline. "I'm a crime boss who dragged you into a war."

"I know what you are," she said, her voice dropping into a soft, breathless confession. "And I know I should be terrified of you. But I'm not."

Damen leaned down and kissed her.

It was not gentle. It was possessive, dark, and filled with a raw intensity that made Selene gasped into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, surrendering to the overwhelming heat of a man who had built an empire out of blood and iron, but who held her as if she were the only real thing in the world.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together in the quiet shadows of the tunnel.

"When this night is over," Damen whispered against her lips, "I am building you a new clinic. Anywhere you want in Chicago. Ten times the size of Mercy Street."

Selene let out a breathless laugh. "Are you bribing me, Mr. Volkov?"

"I am securing my investment, Dr. Mercer," he replied, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his sharp features. "Because I have no intention of ever letting you go."

The service elevator at the end of the tunnel chimed softly.

The doors opened, revealing Viktor and four heavily armed operatives holding submachine guns.

"Boss!" Viktor yelled, rushing down the hall. "The perimeter is secure. The Syndicate leadership in Chicago was raided twenty minutes ago. It's over."