"THE MAFIA BOSS CAME HOME TO FIND HIS MAID DRAGGING HIS MOTHER’S EMPTY WHEELCHAIR THROUGH THE ENGAGEMENT PARTY—THEN HE NOTICED THE BLOOD SOAKING THROUGH HER WHITE SLEEVE.

One year later.

The grand foyer of the Moretti mansion was once again filled with light, music, and the soft laughter of elegant guests.

The crystal chandelier hung above, casting brilliant points of light across the pristine white marble floor—the same marble where, twelve months ago, I had kneeled in a blood-soaked maid's apron, fighting to push an empty wheelchair.

Tonight, there were no red gowns. There were no hidden threats. There were no secrets.

Tonight was the annual benefit gala for the Moretti Children's Rehabilitation Foundation—an event organized entirely by me, which had already raised over four million dollars for families in need of pediatric care.

I stood near the grand staircase, wearing an off-the-shoulder dark emerald silk evening gown that draped beautifully to the floor. My brown hair was pinned up in an intricate, elegant chignon, a delicate diamond necklace—a gift from Luca—glistening at my throat.

Beside me stood my younger brother, Paul. He was twenty-one now, standing tall and strong in a sharp black tuxedo, completely free of crutches or braces, laughing as he chatted with Aunt Eleanor.

"Look at you, big sister," Paul said, taking a sip of his sparkling cider and smiling down at me. "You look like a movie star."

"And you look like a gentleman," I teased softly, straightening his bowtie. "How is the knee feeling?"

"Feels great," Paul said proudly. "I ran three miles this morning without any pain at all. All thanks to Luca."

He looked toward the entrance of the foyer, where Luca stood surrounded by three city council members and Marco. Luca wore a classic black tuxedo, looking impeccably handsome, his broad frame dominating the room as always.

As if sensing our gaze, Luca turned his head. His storm-gray eyes found mine across the crowded room.

Without a word to the council members, he excused himself and walked straight toward me, his long strides effortless, his eyes never leaving my face.

Paul offered me a sly grin. "I'll go get some dessert with Aunt Eleanor," he whispered, sliding away toward the catering tables.

Luca stopped in front of me. He didn't care that fifty wealthy guests were watching. He reached out, taking my right hand and lifting it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.

"You're the most breathtaking woman in this room," Luca murmured softly, his gray eyes shining with open devotion.

"You say that every time we dress up," I laughed softly, feeling a familiar flush of heat rise to my cheeks.

"Because it's true every single time," he replied softly.

He held out his arm. "Walk with me?"

I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow, and together we walked out through the open French doors onto the marble terrace overlooking the rose gardens.

The night air was cool and crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and damp earth. Below us, the fountain bubbled softly, its water sparkling under the moonlight.

Luca led me to the edge of the stone balustrade. He turned to face me, taking both of my hands in his.

"One year ago tonight," Luca said softly, his voice rich and deep, "you were standing right inside those doors, bleeding, terrified, and holding forty-six dollars to your name."

"I remember," I whispered, looking up at him. "I thought my life was over."

"And instead," Luca said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket, "you changed mine forever."

He pulled out a small, velvet-lined mahogany box.

My breath caught in my throat. My hands trembled in his.

Luca snapped the box open. Inside sat a stunning three-carat oval diamond ring, set in platinum, surrounded by smaller brilliant cut stones that caught the moonlight like captured stars.

Luca dropped to one knee on the marble terrace.

The powerful boss of the Chicago underworld—a man feared by corrupt politicians and rival syndicates alike—knelt before me with absolute, humble vulnerability in his eyes.

"Sophie Bennett," Luca said, his voice trembling slightly with raw emotion. "You brought light into a house that had known only dark secrets and violence. You protected my mother when I wasn't there, and you taught me what true courage and love really look like. I don't want to run this empire without you by my side."

Tears overflowed my eyelashes, sparkling in the moonlight as they rolled down my cheeks.

"Will you marry me?" Luca asked softly. "Will you be my wife, my partner, and the queen of this house?"

I couldn't speak for a second. I dropped to my knees right in front of him, my emerald silk gown spreading across the cold marble, and threw my arms around his neck.

"Yes," I sobbed happily against his neck, kissing his cheek, his jaw, his lips. "Yes, Luca! Absolutely yes!"

Luca let out a deep, triumphant laugh, wrapping his strong arms around my waist and lifting me up as he stood. He slid the diamond ring onto my left ring finger—a perfect fit.

From the French doors behind us, a sudden burst of applause and cheers broke out.

We turned around.

Standing in the doorway were Eleanor, Paul, Marco, and dozens of guests, clapping and raising their champagne glasses in celebration. Eleanor was wiping tears from her eyes with a lace handkerchief, beaming with sheer, unadulterated joy.

Luca pulled me close against his side, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist, his hand resting over my hip.

I looked down at the brilliant diamond shining on my finger, then up at the dark, handsome face of the man who held my heart.