The Tipsy Curvy Waitress Poked Boston’s Most Feared Man in the Chest, and Minutes Later He Threw Her Over His Shoulder and Took Her Away

By midnight, the storm over Boston had reached its peak.

The penthouse was quiet save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the glass walls. The ledger was safely locked inside Matteo’s secure server, its contents already being processed by his legal team to prepare an unassailable case for federal authorities.

Marcus Vance was dead. The Moretti family’s leadership in Providence was currently being dismantled by federal raids triggered by the initial data leaks.

The threat was over.

Penny stood in the penthouse living room, dressed in a soft, oversized gray sweater and leggings provided by Elena. A small suitcase containing her belongings stood by the front door.

Matteo walked into the room carrying two glasses of dark amber liquid. He handed one to her.

“Sixteen-year-old scotch,” he said smoothly. “Guaranteed not to be spilled on my suit.”

Penny smiled softly, taking a small sip. The liquid warmed her throat, settling the quiet nervousness that had built up in her stomach over the last two hours.

“The police won't press charges against me?” she asked quietly.

“You were a victim of an armed robbery at a bank,” Matteo said, standing near the window beside her. “My legal team cleared your name before dinner. You are completely free, Penny. Your mother’s facility has been paid for two years in advance, and Gordon Pike has officially signed your severance package.”

Penny looked down at her glass. “So... it’s done. I go back to my life.”

“You can,” Matteo said.

The silence between them stretched long and heavy.

Penny turned to look at him. “What if I don't want to go back to carrying cocktail trays for hedge-fund sociopaths?”

Matteo turned his head, his dark eyes searching her face. “You have enough money now to start over. Buy a bakery. Go back to school. Live a quiet, normal life far away from men like me.”

“Quiet lives are overrated,” Penny said, stepping closer to him, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater. “For twenty-six years, I tried to be quiet. I tried to be small. I tried to apologize for taking up space.”

She reached out, placing her hand gently against his solid chest, right over his beating heart.

“And then I met a man who didn't want me small,” she murmured softly. “A man who threw me over his shoulder to keep me safe, who listened to me when I complained, and who looked at me like I was the only person in the room who mattered.”

Matteo’s breath hitched slightly. He raised his hand, his long fingers covering hers on his chest. “Penny... I am not a hero. My world is dark, dangerous, and violent.”

“I know what your world is,” Penny said, tilting her head back to look him dead in the eye. “And I poked it three times on a Friday night.”

Matteo stared at her for a long, electric second. Then, letting out a low, growling sigh of defeat, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

He leaned down and kissed her.

The kiss was hot, deep, and possessive, sweeping away weeks of fear, tension, and unsaid desires. Penny wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes, surrendering completely to the warm, overwhelming strength of his embrace.

When he finally pulled back, both of them breathing heavily, Matteo rested his forehead against hers.

“If you stay,” Matteo whispered raspy against her lips, “you stay with me. Completely.”