The silence in the grand ballroom of the Morello Foundation was total, heavy, and suffocating. The soft, classical violin quartet that had been playing near the champagne fountain trailed off into an awkward, dying note as the musicians lowered their bows, wide-eyed.

The morning after the Morello Foundation gala, the sun broke over Chicago’s skyline in pale, watery shades of blue and gold. Inside Rose & Rye, Emily’s small bakery on the corner of Elm Street, the air smelled of warm vanilla, browned butter, melted chocolate, and roasted coffee beans.

Emily was standing behind the wooden counter, her apron tied firmly over her denim jeans and a simple cotton shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her flour-dusted hands worked rhythmically, kneading dough for fresh cinnamon rolls.

Despite the calm routine of baking, her mind was in absolute chaos.

Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the firm weight of Adrian’s hand resting on her hip. She heard his voice echoing through the ballroom: I am building a new one for her.

She had spent years protecting herself from men like him. Or rather, protecting herself from the disappointment that always followed men who claimed to care. Nathan had liked her soft body behind closed doors, beneath the sheets where no one could see. But in the sunlight, he wanted a woman who looked like she stepped off a magazine cover.

Adrian was the exact opposite. He didn't hide her. He had claimed her in front of Chicago's most dangerous syndicate.

The brass bell above the bakery door chimed, cutting off her thoughts.

Emily looked up, expecting an early morning commuter looking for a espresso. Instead, two broad-shouldered men in tailored dark suits stepped inside. They were built like brick walls, with subtle bulges beneath their jackets that clearly signaled shoulder holsters.

"Good morning, Miss Carter," one of them said respectfully, nodding his head. "Mr. Morello asked us to secure the perimeter before he stepped out of the vehicle."

Emily blinked, holding a handful of flour. "Secure the... it's a bakery. The only danger here is heart disease from the cream cheese frosting."

The guard didn't laugh. He simply stepped to the side, holding the door open.

A second later, Adrian Morello walked into Rose & Rye.

He wore a dark navy wool coat over a crisp charcoal suit, looking entirely too powerful, handsome, and refined for the small, sunlit bakery. He looked around the cozy shop, his eyes softening the moment they landed on Emily.

"Good morning, Emily," he said, walking straight to the counter.

"Adrian," Emily said, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. She gestured toward the two men standing outside the glass display windows like stone gargoyles. "Is the personal army really necessary for a Thursday morning drop-off?"

"After last night? Yes," Adrian said calmly. He reached across the glass case, pulled her gently by the waist until she was leaning across the counter, and pressed his lips firmly to her cheek. His stubble grazed her skin, sending a shiver straight down her spine. "Vanessa’s father, Richard Hale, is furious. He lost his shipping contract with my family last night because of his daughter’s mouth. He’s a weak man, which makes him unpredictable."

Emily leaned back slightly, studying his dark eyes. "I caused a war between your families because I threw a pie?"

"You didn't cause anything," Adrian corrected smoothly, his large hand coming up to rest on the counter near hers. "The Hales were looking for an excuse to push boundaries. Vanessa thought she could target you because she assumed you were unprotected. She was wrong."

Emily sighed, looking down at her apron. "Adrian... people are talking. My phone has been buzzing since six in the morning. My sister called me three times asking if I’m dating a mobster. I saw a picture of Vanessa covered in cream on a local gossip blog."

"Let them talk," Adrian said firmly. "They are irrelevant."

"They aren't irrelevant to me!" Emily insisted, her voice rising slightly. She looked him straight in the eye, her hazel eyes fierce. "I built this bakery with my own hands, Adrian. I worked sixteen-hour days for four years to make Rose & Rye successful. I don't want people thinking I'm just some... some mobster's trophy, or a joke, or a temporary fling!"

Adrian’s expression darkened, though not with anger toward her. He stepped around the counter, ignoring the 'Employees Only' sign, and walked straight into her workspace.

Emily backed up until her lower back hit the edge of the stainless-steel prep table. Adrian closed the distance, stepping between her thighs and placing his hands on the table on either side of her hips, trapping her in his warm, powerful embrace.

"Look at me, Emily," he commanded softly.

Emily swallowed hard, looking up into his intense, dark gaze.

"You are nobody's trophy," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a rough, possessive whisper. "And you are damn sure not a temporary fling. If anyone in this city thinks you are weak because you are kind, or because you don't fit into their ridiculous standards of what a woman should look like, I will personally ruin them."

His hand moved from the table to her waist, his fingers digging gently into the soft curve above her hip. He didn't avoid her body; he pulled her closer, pressing his hard abdomen against her soft warmth.

"I like everything about you, Emily," Adrian murmured, his thumb rubbing small circles against her ribs. "I like your mouth. I like your sharp mind. I like your soft skin. I like the way you look in that red dress, and I like the way you look right now covered in flour. You take up space in my mind every second of the day. Get used to it."

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she felt the sheer sincerity in his voice. Nathan had always touched her tentatively in public, as if afraid someone would notice he was touching a plus-size woman. Adrian touched her as if he wanted the entire world to know she belonged to him.

"You're very persuasive, Mr. Morello," Emily whispered, her hands rising to rest against his broad chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his wool coat.

"I'm a businessman, Miss Carter," Adrian murmured, dipping his head until his lips brushed against her jawline. "I always secure my most valuable assets."

Before Emily could answer, the door to the bakery slammed open with a harsh bang, the brass bell clattering violently against the glass.

"Where is she?!" a harsh, nasal voice roared through the bakery.

Adrian stopped kissing Emily’s jaw. He didn't rush. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes darkening into pure lethality as he turned around, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around Emily’s waist.