The mafia boss had been rejected by beautiful women in penthouses, heiresses at charity galas, and one actress who had actually cried when he refused to buy her a house.

The alleyway was dead silent except for the rhythmic dripping of rain from the metal fire escape.

Dante was turning blue, his boots dangling inches above the wet pavement, gasping desperately for air. Luca’s arm remained locked like an iron bar, his eyes completely devoid of human warmth.

"Luca!"

Sophie’s voice broke through the dark silence.

She ran down the remaining metal steps of the fire escape, her clothes soaked, stepping out into the cold rain right beside him. She reached out and placed her small, warm hand over Luca’s white-knuckled fist.

"Luca, stop," she whispered softly.

Luca didn't move. The dark monster inside him—the ruthless mafia king who had ruled Chicago’s underground for a decade—was fighting for total control.

"He tried to hurt you," Luca rasped, his voice raw and dangerous.

"I know," Sophie said gently, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. "But if you kill him here, in cold blood, you lose everything we fought for. You go to prison. You go back into the darkness. I didn't save your heart just to watch you throw it away on a piece of garbage like him."

Luca looked down at her.

In the middle of the dark, rain-soaked alleyway, surrounded by violence and fear, Sophie’s soft brown eyes were shining with pure, unwavering love.

Slowly, the dark rage in Luca’s eyes began to recede. The tension in his shoulders melted away.

With a heavy grunt, Luca threw Dante onto the wet asphalt. Dante collapsed into the gutter, coughing violently, clutching his crushed throat, completely broken.

Three unmarked police cruisers suddenly roared down the street, their red and blue lights flashing against the wet brick walls. Arthur Vance—the state prosecutor whom Luca had assisted with full immunity documentation—stepped out of the lead vehicle.

"We’ve got it from here, Luca," Prosecutor Vance said, signaling his officers to handcuff Dante and his men. "The wiretaps picked up Mateo’s order from his jail cell. This puts both of them away for life."

Vance looked at Dante being dragged into the police cruiser, then back at Luca. "You kept your word, Bellini. You stayed clean."

"I have a good reason to," Luca replied softly, his eyes never leaving Sophie.

Vance nodded with deep respect, pulled his coat tight against the rain, and signaled the officers to clear the scene.

Within ten minutes, the alley was quiet again.

Luca turned to Sophie. He reached out, gently wiping rain droplets from her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice shaking with a sudden, overwhelming vulnerability.

"I'm fine," she whispered, leaning into his warm touch. "Thanks to Marco's iron pipe and a very expensive Maybach."

Marco, who was leaning against the alley wall wiping mud off his jacket, snorted softly. "The car is totaled, boss. The front bumper is in three pieces."

Luca didn't care. He wrapped his arms around Sophie, pulling her tight against his chest, burying his face in her wet hair. He held her so fiercely, so completely, as if he were trying to merge her very soul into his own.

"I was so terrified," Luca whispered into her ear, his broad shoulders trembling slightly. "When I got the alarm notification on my phone... I thought I lost you."

Sophie wrapped her arms around his back, holding him just as tightly.

"You're never going to lose me, Luca Bellini," she said softly against his neck. "You're stuck with me. In sickness, in health, and in commercial baking."

Luca pulled back slightly, looking down into her eyes, a breathtaking, genuine smile breaking across his handsome face.