The Coldest Mafia Boss Refused Every Woman Until a Stranger Returned the Ring That Could Destroy His Empire
Part 2: “This estate has armed security, reinforced windows, and a protected underground level.”
“I can’t stay with a mafia boss.”
Damian’s face remained unreadable.
“You can stay with a mafia boss, or you can be murdered by one.”
“That isn’t a choice.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
Clara’s hands closed into fists.
“How long?”
“As long as necessary.”
“A day?”
“No.”
“A week?”
“Possibly.”
“I have a job.”
“My office will contact your employer.”
“You are not contacting my employer.”
“My office will tell them you were injured in a traffic accident.”
“You can’t just rewrite my life.”
“I am trying to preserve it.”
“By making me your prisoner?”
A muscle tightened in Damian’s jaw.
“You entered this house voluntarily.”
“And now you won’t let me leave.”
“Because the moment you do, you become a target.”
Clara stepped closer to him.
She was nearly a foot shorter, exhausted, and shaking, but anger gave her a courage fear could not.
“I returned your ring because I believed there had to be some difference between doing the decent thing and doing the selfish thing. Don’t make me regret being decent.”
Something changed in Damian’s eyes......
The Drunk Billionaire Mafia Boss Came to My Door Whispering I Need You,
Part 2: His face changed.
The question seemed to reach someplace no one had touched in years.
“Let me stay.”
“On the couch.”
“I wasn’t negotiating for your bed.”
“You looked at my pajamas like you were drafting a different proposal.”
A real smile appeared then, small and wounded but unmistakably genuine.
“Your sarcasm is vicious at two in the morning.”
“It’s vicious at all hours. You’re usually too intimidating to notice.”
“I notice everything about you.”
The smile disappeared from my own face.
He raised his uninjured hand slowly. When I did not move away, his fingertips brushed my cheek with a tenderness so careful it nearly broke me.
“I have wanted to do that for a year,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes.
For one suspended moment, I allowed myself to lean into his hand.
Then I stood.
“You are sleeping here until you’re sober enough to leave safely. Tomorrow, we talk when neither of us can blame whiskey.”
“I won’t blame it.”
“We’ll see.”
“I will remember every word.”
“You’d better.”
I brought him water, aspirin for the morning, and the thick gray blanket from my bed. He lay down without argument, which was perhaps the clearest proof of how badly he was hurting.
As I turned toward my room, his voice stopped me.
“Quinn.”
I looked back.
His eyes were already closing.
“I meant the first thing I said.”
That he needed me.
I stood there until his breathing deepened, wondering whether being needed by Evander Zarelli was a dream or a warning.
By six thirty, I had slept less than an hour.
I dressed quietly, made coffee, and left a note beside the thermos.
Good morning, Mr. Zarelli.
You forgot to confirm the 7:30 call, so I confirmed it. Coffee is hot. Aspirin is beside the water.
We have a great deal to discuss.
Do not disappear.
Q
P.S. You are a disaster when you drink, but at least you are an honest disaster.
At 7:02, while I was riding uptown in a cab, my phone vibrated.
I remember everything.
I still mean everything.
My office at six.
E
I read the message three times before replying.
Six o’clock.
Wear a clean shirt and bring the truth.
Chapter Two
What He Meant When He Said Forever
At exactly six, I stood outside Evander’s office on the forty-second floor of Zarelli Capital and wondered whether one conversation could ruin two careers and one carefully guarded heart.
“Come in,” he called.
He was standing beside the panoramic windows, Manhattan burning gold behind him. He wore a charcoal suit and a perfectly aligned tie. His hair was combed back. His bruised jaw was the only evidence that the man from my apartment had been real.
“You came,” he said.
“I said I would.”
Relief crossed his face before control erased it.
He moved toward me, stopping several feet away. The distance was deliberate, respectful, and somehow more intimate than if he had touched me.
“I remember everything I said.”
“And?”
“I regret arriving drunk. I regret frightening you. I regret that I did not tell you sooner what was happening.” His gaze held mine. “I do not regret wanting you.”
My arms folded over my chest. “What exactly do you want?”
