Chapter 4 - The Vow in the DarkWhen a ruthless Don bleeds in front of you, you either run for your life or realize you've already lost your heart to him.
Forty-five minutes passed in agonizing, suffocating silence.
Finally, the electronic lock on the steel door clicked. The heavy vault door swung open with a loud metallic groan.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway.
His tuxedo jacket was gone. His white shirt was torn at the shoulder, soaked through with dark, wet crimson blood. Gunsmoke clung to his skin, and his knuckles were scraped raw. But his eyes—wild, dark, and frantic—searched the dark room until they found me.
"Papa!" Matteo cried out, running toward him.
Lorenzo dropped to one knee, wrapping his uninjured arm tightly around his son, lifting him off the ground, kissing his head over and over. "I'm here, miei tesoro. I'm here. You're safe."
He set Matteo down, handing him to Marco. "Take him to the upper suite. Have the doctor check him for shock."
Once Matteo was led away, Lorenzo slowly stood up. He swayed slightly, leaning his heavy shoulder against the concrete doorframe.
I stepped forward, my hands trembling as I reached toward his bloody shoulder. "You're hit..."
"It's just a graze," Lorenzo rasped, his voice rough from smoke. "The Moretti family tried to execute a decapitation strike on my home. They thought I was soft because of my son."
"Lorenzo, you need a doctor!" I insisted, reaching out to tear open his shirt to inspect the wound.
He grabbed my wrist. His grip was warm, tight, and electric. He pulled me close until our noses were almost touching, his dark eyes burning into mine with an intense, raw emotion that terrified me.
"You didn't run," Lorenzo whispered, his voice shaking slightly. "When the glass broke... you threw yourself over my son. You used your own body to shield Matteo."
"Of course I did!" I sobbed, tears finally breaking through my composure. "He's five years old! He was terrified!"
"My own mother ran for the vault first," Lorenzo said, a dark, bitter chuckle escaping his chest. "My capos hid behind tables. But an outsider—a woman who owes us nothing—protected my blood with her life."
He raised his free hand, cupping the side of my face, his thumb gently wiping away my tears, leaving a faint streak of soot on my cheek.
"I tried to convince myself that I brought you here tonight just to satisfy Matteo’s wish," Lorenzo whispered, stepping closer, pinning me gently against the concrete wall. "I tried to tell myself you were just a sweet girl from Columbus Circle."
"Lorenzo..." my breath hitched.
"I was lying to myself," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed against mine, soft, hot, and possessing. "You belong in this house, Maya. You belong to me. And after tonight... I am never letting you go."
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I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed, run back to my apartment, and packed my bags to leave New York forever.
Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down, kissing him back with a fierce, desperate passion that consumed every doubt I had ever held.
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