"Your Bodyguards Are Traitors. Leave By The Back Door Now," The Maid Whispered To The Mafia Boss

By 2:00 a.m., the Grand Ballroom was empty, save for the blood stains on the velvet carpets and the shattered crystal glasses scattered across the floor.

The Marciano syndicate had been reclaimed. Gianni and Falcone were handed over to the elders for underworld justice, their financial empires completely dismantled and absorbed by Enzo.

Enzo stood on the private terrace of the hotel suite overlooking the sparkling lights of the Manhattan skyline. Cold rain fell softly around him, but he didn't seem to notice.

I stepped out onto the terrace, wearing an oversized black wool coat over my emerald dress, holding two warm cups of espresso.

"You should be resting, Don Marciano," I said softly, handing him a cup.

Enzo took the cup, his fingers brushing against mine. He turned to look at me, his dark eyes reflecting the amber city lights.

"Don't call me Don Marciano, Amelia," Enzo said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it before. "To you, I am just Enzo."

"Your father's name has been cleared," I said, looking out at the city. "And my father finally has justice. The files were published on the federal prosecutor's server an hour ago."

Enzo turned his body toward me, taking the espresso cup from my hand and setting both mugs down on the stone ledge. He reached out, gently taking my face in his warm hands.

"You gave me my empire back, Amelia," Enzo whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from mine. "And you gave me something far more dangerous."

"What's that?" I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.