"The curvy maid accidentally dropped heated towels on the mafia king’s legs—then he whispered, “Don’t move them,” and she realized something was terribly wrong.

The Black Pelican’s Grand Ballroom was transformed into a fortress of luxury and danger.

The annual syndicate gala was the one night a year when rival families, corrupt politicians, and cartel bosses gathered under a banner of temporary truce to discuss business. Tonight, the air crackled with anticipation. Everyone knew the king was bleeding. Vivian’s father had brought extra muscle. Marcus looked entirely too confident, holding court near the ice sculptures.

Upstairs in the penthouse, Lena stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

Dante hadn't just invited her; he had weaponized her appearance. He had ordered a custom gown from a private designer in Milan. It was deep, blood-red velvet, designed to hug every single one of her curves flawlessly. The neckline was elegant but daring, and the slit up the thigh allowed her to move freely.

She looked breathtaking. She looked dangerous.

Dante rolled into the dressing room, wearing a bespoke black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. He stopped his chair, his dark eyes sweeping over her reflection in the mirror.

For a moment, he couldn't speak. The sheer beauty of the woman standing before him completely stole his breath.

“You look like a queen,” Dante said softly, his voice a low, gravelly purr.

Lena turned around, a blush creeping up her neck. “I feel like I’m wearing armor.”

“You are,” Dante said, holding out a long, velvet box. “But armor needs a shield.”

Lena opened the box. Inside rested a stunning, vintage diamond necklace. It was heavy, cold, and undeniably priceless.

“Dante, I can't accept this,” Lena breathed.

“It was my mother’s,” Dante stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “She wore it when my father faced down his enemies. Put it on, Lena. Let them see exactly who you belong to.”

Lena turned around, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. Dante wheeled closer, his warm, rough fingers grazing her skin as he fastened the heavy diamond clasp at the nape of her neck. The touch sent a violent shiver down her spine.

“Ready?” Dante asked, his eyes locking with hers in the mirror.