The Mafia Boss Abandoned a Million-Dollar War When His Secretary Whispered, “Come Get Me” — But the Real Betrayal Was Waiting Beside Him.

PART 5

Priya stood on the toilet lid, one hand gripping the partition and the other holding her phone against her chest.

Her hair, usually arranged into a flawless knot, hung around her face. Mascara had darkened the skin beneath her eyes. Her lips were pale.

She looked smaller than Dante had ever seen her.

Then she saw him. Her composure collapsed.

She stepped down so quickly that her heel caught against the toilet. Dante reached forward just as she threw herself against him.

He caught her around the shoulders. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She buried her face against his chest and trembled with such force that the vibration passed through his body.

Dante went still.

No one embraced him. People shook his hand, bowed their heads, kissed his cheek at formal dinners, or clung to him in moments of passion they hoped would purchase influence.

No one held him because they trusted him to keep the world away.

His hands hovered briefly above Priya’s back. Then he wrapped his arms around her.

He lowered his face to her hair. “I’ve got you.”

A dry sob escaped her. “He knew my address.”

Dante’s eyes sharpened. “What did he say?”

“At the table. He said the neighborhood on Eighty-Fourth Street had gotten expensive. I never told him where I lived.”

Dante looked down at Everett.

The unconscious man had been given more than a name. He had been given a file.

Dante tightened his arms around Priya.

“It’s handled.”

“How?”

“Not now.”

“Dante, he knew things about the office.”

“I said not now.”

The sharpness of his tone made her stiffen. He softened immediately.

“You’re safe. That is all you need to carry tonight.”

Her breathing gradually slowed.

When she finally pulled back, she saw the blood on his knuckles.

The automatic part of her mind took over. She opened her tiny clutch and removed a folded white handkerchief.

Dante stared at it. “You brought that on a date?”

“I always carry one.”

“You forgot your pepper spray.”

Her mouth trembled. “I wasn’t expecting my date to work for a criminal organization.”

Dante almost smiled. “You work for a criminal organization.”

“Officially, I work for a commercial real estate company.”

She took his hand and wiped blood from his knuckles.

Dante watched her. Minutes earlier she had been terrified, yet she was trying to repair him.

The affection that rose inside him was so fierce it felt dangerous.

“You ruined your suit,” she whispered.

“I have others.”

He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders. The fabric swallowed her.

“Where is Silas?” she asked.

“Outside.”

Dante looked once more at Everett. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

She took one step and nearly fell. Dante caught her.

Without asking, he lifted her into his arms.

“Dante, I can walk.”

“You just proved otherwise.”

“There are people outside.”

“They’ll survive the sight.”

He carried her through the club. The crowd parted. Several Marchetti men watched from the shadows, hands near their jackets, but none moved against Dante while he held Priya.

Silas stood beside the SUV when they emerged. His gaze landed on the woman in Dante’s arms, and something unreadable passed through his expression.

Concern, perhaps. Or calculation. It vanished before Dante noticed.

Silas opened the rear door. Dante placed Priya inside and climbed in beside her. The SUV pulled away as thunder rolled over Ironport.

“My apartment is on Eighty-Fourth,” Priya said after several minutes.

“We aren’t going there.”

“I need clothes.”

“You need walls the Marchettis can’t enter.”

“I have work on Monday.”

Dante turned toward her. “Everett knows where you live.”

The last of her resistance disappeared.

“Where are we going?”

“My home.”