"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.

A week later, the Black Pelican was quiet. The purge had been swift and brutal. Marcus’s loyalists were eradicated, Vivian’s family was banished from the state under threat of total annihilation, and Dante’s grip on the syndicate was absolute.

Lena stood in the massive master bedroom of the penthouse, looking out over the glittering waters of the Mississippi River. She wore a soft silk robe, holding a cup of coffee.

The door to the adjoining suite—the room she had been assigned as a maid—was locked. She didn't sleep there anymore.

Dante rolled into the bedroom. He looked exhausted from a morning of brutal physical therapy, but there was a new light in his eyes. A fierce, possessive peace.

He wheeled over to her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, resting his head against her stomach. Lena smiled, running her fingers through his dark hair.

“I just got off the phone with Dr. Elias,” Dante murmured against the silk of her robe. “He spoke to the chief of nephrology at St. Jude’s. Your father’s new kidney transplant is scheduled for Tuesday. The syndicate is covering the entire cost, including a private recovery wing.”

Lena’s breath hitched. Tears sprang to her eyes. She dropped to her knees in front of his wheelchair, burying her face in his lap, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what he was doing for her.

“Dante... thank you. I don't know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Dante reached down, gently lifting her chin so she was looking directly into his dark, intense eyes.

“You repay me by never leaving my side,” Dante said fiercely. “You repay me by letting me protect you for the rest of our lives. You aren't my aide anymore, Lena. You are my queen.”

He leaned down and kissed her, deeply and passionately. It was a kiss that sealed a promise of blood, loyalty, and an unbreakable bond forged in the darkest of places.