By 4:30 on the last Friday before Christmas, my boss had survived seventy-two emails, a state senator’s dinner disaster, a penthouse delivery mistake,

The words hung in the warm, fragrant air of the conservatory, thick with a sudden, overwhelming tension that made my breath catch in my throat.

Before I could process what he meant, Luca leaned down, his mouth brushing against mine in a kiss that was slow, deep, and utterly possessive.

A soft gasp escaped my lips, and Luca used the opportunity to pull me closer, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet until my front was pressed flush against his broad chest. The kiss wasn't fake; it wasn't staged for cameras or prying relatives. It was four years of repressed desire, hidden glances, and quiet late-night hours in the office spilling over all at once.

My hands flew up to his shoulders, my fingers tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck. I melted into him, forgetting the five million dollars, forgetting the fake contract, forgetting the dangerous syndicate waiting just beyond the glass doors.

When he finally pulled back, both of us were breathless. Luca rested his forehead against mine, his thumb softly tracing my swollen lower lip.

"I've wanted to do that since the night you walked into my office in that ridiculous gray pencil skirt," he rasped, his voice rough and low.

"Luca..." I stammered, my head spinning. "We... we have a professional boundaries agreement."

"Burn the agreement," he murmured, his lips brushing against my cheekbone.

Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the conservatory burst open.

Marco stepped inside, his hand resting on the holster under his arm, his face pale and tense.

"Boss," Marco said urgently. "We have a problem."

Luca instantly shifted, stepping in front of me to shield my body with his own, his cold, lethal persona returning in less than a second. "What is it?"

"The security perimeter on the north estate line was breached five minutes ago," Marco reported quickly. "Two of our gate guards were neutralized with suppressed weapons. Someone brought a team inside."

My blood turned to ice. "Julian?" I whispered.

"Julian left the property ten minutes ago with the Bellandis," Marco replied grimly. "He cleared his personal staff out before he walked out the gates. He set us up."

Luca didn't panic. He reached inside his tuxedo jacket, pulled out a small, custom silver handgun, and flipped the safety off with a sharp click. He turned to me, his face set in stone.

"Marco, get Emma to the safe room beneath the wine cellar," Luca ordered sternly. "Take four men. Nobody enters that room until I give the personal passphrase."

"No!" I yelled, grabbing Luca's sleeve. "I am not leaving you here!"

"Emma, listen to me!" Luca commanded, grabbing my face gently in both hands, forcing me to look into his dark eyes. "My uncle sent hitmen to clean up the board before the New Year's vote. They aren't here for the estate; they're here for me. You go with Marco. Now."

"Luca, please—"

A sudden burst of heavy gunfire shattered the crystal windows of the main dining hall further down the corridor. Screams echoed across the marble floors as panic broke out among the remaining guests.

Luca kissed me hard and fast on the lips. "I'll come back for you. I promise."