Five Powerful Women Wanted Him—But the Mafia Boss Chose the Waitress

The Moretti penthouse occupied the top three floors of a shimmering glass skyscraper in the heart of the city. The private elevator opened directly into a living space that looked like a modern art museum.

Liya stepped out, her battered duffel bag clutched tightly in her hands. The contrast between her thrift-store clothes and the imported Italian marble floors was laughable.

"The medical team has already set up your mother’s room in the west wing," Adrian said, walking past her to pour a drink at a crystal bar. "Dr. Rice will be on call 24/7. The security protocols here are absolute. No one enters the building without my direct authorization."

Liya dropped her bag.

"How long do we have to stay here?"

Adrian turned around, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"Until I eliminate the threat."

"You mean until you kill them," Liya clarified, her voice shaking.

"I mean until the threat is neutralized," he replied smoothly. "You will have a generous allowance. You do not need to work. Your only job is to stay inside these walls and take care of your mother."

"I am not a prisoner, Adrian," she shot back, finding a sudden spark of anger. "And I am not a kept woman."

A dangerous, slow smile spread across his face. He set the glass down and walked toward her, closing the distance until she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

"You are whatever I need you to be to keep you breathing," he whispered, his gaze dropping momentarily to her lips. "The women hunting you will not hesitate to use your pride against you. Stay in the penthouse, Liya."