The deadbolt clicked behind the most feared mafia boss in Boise while I stood bleeding in his kitchen

The morning after the courtyard attack, the estate returned to a surreal, polished calm.

If there were bloodstains on the snow or bullet holes in the south perimeter gates, they had been cleared away before sunrise. When I looked out the fourth-floor window at 8:00 AM, the grounds were spotless, the pine trees swaying peacefully beneath a clear, icy blue Idaho sky.

Vane arrived at nine, carrying a fresh tray of coffee and a small, leather-bound notebook.

"Good morning, Miss Ivy," Vane said, setting the tray on the dining table. "Mr. DeLuca has requested your presence in his primary office at your earliest convenience."

My stomach fluttered nervously. "Is everything alright?"

"The threat from the secondary faction has been eliminated," Vane replied smoothly. "Mr. DeLuca is restructuring the estate's staff. He wishes to discuss your permanent status."

Permanent status. The words echoed in my head as I dressed in a soft cream-colored sweater and trousers. I walked out of my suite, flanked by two guards who now bowed their heads with noticeable deference, and walked down the long, oak-paneled hallway toward the double doors of Carmine's office.

One of the guards knocked twice and opened the heavy door for me.

Carmine’s office was breathtaking. High, vaulted ceilings, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes, and a massive mahogany desk positioned in front of a sweeping bay window overlooking the valley.

Carmine was standing behind the desk, talking on a encrypted satellite phone. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark hair neatly styled. The moment I stepped through the door, his eyes locked onto mine, and he immediately cut off the caller.

"I'll call you back," Carmine said flatly into the receiver, tossing it onto the desk.

The heavy doors clicked shut behind me, leaving us alone in the sunlit office.

"Ivy," he said, walking around the desk toward me. His movements were fluid, graceful, like a big cat surveying its territory. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I said softly, touching the light yellow shadow beneath my eye. "The doctor said the swelling is almost gone."

"Good." Carmine stopped a few feet away, leaning against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. "We need to talk about what comes next."

I swallowed hard, my fingers tangling together in front of my sweater. "I can go back to work downstairs. If the estate is clear—"

"You're not going back downstairs, Ivy," Carmine said, his voice firm, cutting off my sentence cleanly. "You are not cleaning floors, polishing banisters, or carrying trash in this house ever again."

I blinked, confused. "Mr. DeLuca, I need a job. I appreciate everything you've done—paying my bills, keeping me safe—but I can't just live here as a guest forever. I have to earn my keep."

Carmine’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, a small, dangerous spark igniting in their depths.

"You think I paid fifty-two thousand dollars to turn you into a charity case?" he asked quietly, taking two slow steps toward me.

"I... I don't know what to think," I admitted, my voice trembling as he closed the distance between us. "You killed a man for hurting me. You locked me on the fourth floor. You tell everyone I belong to your house. What am I to you, Carmine?"

Carmine stopped right in front of me. The heat radiating off him was overwhelming. He reached up, his long, scarred fingers gently capturing my chin, lifting my head until I had no choice but to look straight into his dark, fierce gaze.

"You are the woman who looked me in the eye while bleeding and tried to protect a monster just so you wouldn't lose a hundred-dollar-a-day job," Carmine whispered, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "You have more spine than half the capos sitting at my table."

My breath hitched.

"I don't want a maid, Ivy," Carmine continued, his thumb gently caressing my lower lip. "I have fifty staff members to sweep floors. I want you. Safe. Protected. Sitting at my table."

"As what?" I whispered, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs.

"As my ward," Carmine declared softly. "As a woman of the DeLuca house. You will go back to school. I have already secured your enrollment at Boise State for the spring semester. Botany. Full scholarship, funded through my foundation."

Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and blinding. "Carmine... why?"

"Because when I walked into that kitchen four nights ago," Carmine said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming impossibly gentle, "I saw a girl who had been beaten down by every cruel thing in this world, still trying to clean a skillet. And I decided right then that nobody in this state would ever make you feel small again."

He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of my head, right above my temple.

The gesture wasn't possessive in a cruel way; it was an oath. A sanctuary built of iron and blood, wrapped around a girl who had spent her whole life surviving storms.

"You stay here, Ivy," Carmine whispered against my hair. "With me."