"He Said 'I’m Marrying Your Sister.' She Smiled and Said 'I’m Dating the Mafia Boss.'"

I woke up tangled in unfamiliar sheets on a king-sized bed that smelled faintly of cedar, expensive cologne, and rain. For three disorienting seconds, I had no idea where I was. Then the memories came crashing back in full color: the red-faced shock of Ethan Prescott, the heavy silence of Bellini’s, the warm, calloused hand of Lorenzo Moretti leading me into the night.

I sat up, rubbing my temples. I was still wearing the black dress from the night before, though my shoes were neatly lined up by the bedroom door, and a fresh, oversized white button-down shirt hung over the back of an armchair.

The door to the suite opened quietly, and Lorenzo walked in carrying a steaming cup of black coffee. He had already showered; his dark hair was damp, clinging slightly to his forehead, and he wore a crisp gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

"Morning," he said, setting the coffee on the bedside table. "You sleep like someone who spent the night dodging landmines."

"That's because I did," I muttered, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and accepting the coffee. The caffeine hit my system like an electric shock. "What time is it?"

"7:30."

"I have a staff meeting at 8:00 for the annual autumn gala," I said, automatically sliding off the bed toward my shoes. "If I'm late, the head of catering will have a stroke, and the VP of guest relations will write me up."

Lorenzo leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, watching me with a look of quiet amusement.

"You don't work in catering anymore, Scarlet."

I paused, one shoe half on my foot. "Excuse me?"

"Effective 8:00 AM, your employment status has been upgraded," Lorenzo said, his voice completely level. "You are no longer organizing flower arches. You are stepping into the executive relations office as my personal chief of staff."

I stared at him, my jaw dropping. "Your... what? You can't just promote me out of event planning! That's not how corporate structures work!"

"This isn't a corporation, Scarlet. It's a kingdom," Lorenzo said, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer. "And last night, you blew up your old life with a single sentence. Do you really think you can walk back down to the second-floor event office today and pretend nothing happened? Do you think Ethan or your mother aren't already trying to dig up everything they can find on you—and on me?"

The reality of his words hit me like a physical blow.

Ethan was vindictive, petty, and deeply insecure. My mother was obsessed with social standing and control. If they realized I had used Lorenzo Moretti as a weapon, they wouldn't just be angry—they would try to ruin me professionally, socially, and legally if they thought they could get away with it.

"They'll call the hotel," I whispered, realization dawning. "They'll try to get me fired."

"Let them try," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping an octave, turning dark and sharp. "The moment they call the front desk asking to speak to the event coordinator named Scarlet Hayes, they'll be routed directly to my office phone. Let's see how brave your mother feels when my security detail informs her that her daughter's employer is handling her inquiries personally."

I swallowed hard, feeling a strange mixture of terror and intoxicating power. For my entire life, I had been the invisible daughter, the shock absorber for my family's dysfunction, the girl who cleaned up messes she didn't make.

Now, standing in a mafia boss's penthouse suite wrapped in the aftermath of a rebellion, I realized I had crossed a line I could never uncross.

"All right," I said, standing up straight and smoothing down my black dress. "If I'm your chief of staff, Mr. Moretti, where do we start?"