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The room went still.Stunned silence stretched.She realized in horror that the others—Paulo, Luca, even Tony—were staring at her like she’d lost her mind.And Sal…Sal himself looked thrown off.

Because they didn’t see him that way.Noneof them did.

But she did.

Yes, he was a mafia boss.Yes, he commanded Chicago with the kind of power most men only dreamed of.But she knew him differently.She’d felt his patience, his restraint, the way he could cradle her as though she mattered.

The thought of him stepping into her father’s sights—no, worse, stepping into her father’straps—made her blood run cold.

“He’ll cheat, Sal,” she whispered, stepping closer, shame heating her face as she lowered her head.“He’ll lie and come at you from behind.That’s who he is.He’ll shoot you in the back because he can’t fight you face-to-face.”

Gently, his big hand framed her head, tipping her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.His thumb stroked once across her cheek, a quiet reassurance.“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”The word flew out without hesitation, her heart slamming against her ribs.

“Good.”His voice was gravelly, unyielding.“Then trust me when I tell you I can stop him.”

He pulled her in, pressing her cheek to his chest.The steady thrum of his heartbeat filled her ear, proof of his life, his strength.She clung tighter, terrified of losing that sound.

“Listen to me,mi cara,” he said, his hand holding her firmly as though anchoring her in place.“Your father is out of control.He killed three police officers and five innocents last night—for no reason.He was just in a mood.Just wanted to vent.”

Her stomach turned.Her father’s cruelty had no end.

“I won’t face him alone,” Sal continued, his tone calm but absolute.He glanced over his shoulder at the men watching, then back down at her.“I have allies.We’ve all decided—it’s time to take him down.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be after you,” she whispered, her voice shaking with urgency.“You insulted him by not asking for me.For marrying me behind his back.He’ll see it as a major sign of disrespect.”

“It won’t matter,” Sal said, his voice calm, unyielding.“Not with what we’re planning.”

She searched his eyes and felt her heart sink.He wasn’t bluffing.There was nothing she could say that would change his mind.Pleading wouldn’t work.Warning him about her father’s cruelty wouldn’t sway him.Sal was going to face Enrico Bianchi head-on because that’s who Salvatore Romano was—a man who did what he decided, no matter the cost.

It hit her with the force of a blow.She had no power.She never had.It was the story of her life—being used, pushed, ignored.

Catarina stepped out of his arms, her hands trembling at the loss of his warmth.“Yes,” she said softly.“I understand.”

She turned before he could see the tears pricking at her lashes.She wanted to march into the kitchen, force herself to eat, pretend she was fine.But her stomach was in a knot.What she really wanted was to crawl into bed, bury her head under the covers, and not wake up until this nightmare was over.

Instead, she walked outside, out to the wide backyard where the air bit at her cheeks.She sank into one of the redwood chairs, the cushions cold through her sweater.At some point Barbara appeared with a carafe of coffee and a cup, but Catarina barely noticed.She might have smiled her thanks, but later, when she reached for the cup, the coffee was already cold.Her stomach churned at the thought of drinking it anyway.

Her eyes stared out across the yard without really seeing.She hadn’t come outside much since arriving here.Autumn in Chicago was sweater weather, yes, but the chill hinted at winter pressing closer, the kind of cold that could cut into your bones.In Minneapolis by now, there might already be snow.Here, the lake’s winds shifted from hour to hour.It was unpredictable—like life.Like her future.

She pulled the sweater tighter around herself, shivering, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the breeze or the dread clawing at her chest.She thought about Sal.About what he was about to do.She’d known, of course, who he was when she’d married him.Everyone knew the name Salvatore Romano.But she hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected tofeelthis way about him.

He wasn’t just a mafia boss to her anymore.He was the man who looked out for her.The man who cared if she ate.The man who taught her how to fight back when she’d spent her life learning how to hide.The man who had touched her like she mattered.

Last night…

Heat flushed through her even as tears stung her eyes.Last night he had cherished her.Wanted her.Made her feel like she wasn’t a pawn, or a burden, or a possession.He’d made her feel like a woman.

And it had ruined her.

She knew she wouldn’t go back to her father.Not after this.Not after Sal.She still had most of the cash Sal had given her.If he survived—whenhe survived—she would leave before he could send her away.She would find another place, another life.She wouldn’t go back to being Enrico Bianchi’s tool.

But dear heaven, how was she supposed to walk away now?

Because somewhere deep inside, Catarina knew the truth she hadn’t dared admit until this moment: she loved him.Maybe not the fairy tale kind of love, maybe not the storybook happily-ever-after.But when he kissed her like she was the only breath he needed to live, when his eyes softened as he looked at her, when his hands held her as if she were precious…

It felt like love.