"I Served the Most Feared Mafia Boss a Forbidden Dish—Then He Asked a Question That Changed Everything"

Three days later, Dominic’s wound had begun to heal thanks to my constant care. But the war wasn't over.

"Moretti is hosting the annual Underground Syndicate Gala tonight at the Grand Plaza Hotel," Dominic announced during breakfast, setting down his coffee cup. "Every major crime boss, dirty politician, and corrupt police chief in the state will be there."

"You aren't going, are you?" I asked anxiously, placing a plate of poached eggs and spinach in front of him. "You’re still recovering!"

"I have to go," Dominic said firmly. "If I stay hidden, the other families will think I’m weak. Moretti will use the gala to rally the syndicate against me. I need to strike first and expose his crimes to the commission."

He looked up at me, his eyes softening. "And you are coming with me."

"Me?" I blinked. "Dominic, I'm a chef. I don't belong at a mafia gala!"

"You belong wherever I am," Dominic said softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. "Besides, Moretti believes you are dead—a victim of the estate attack. Walking in on my arm will shatter his confidence before the night even begins."

By 8:00 PM, I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me.

I was wearing a breathtaking, custom-fitted dark crimson velvet gown with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high slit. My hair was swept up in an elegant vintage undo, and around my neck hung a stunning antique gold necklace that had belonged to Dominic’s mother.

When I walked down the grand staircase into the foyer, Dominic was waiting in a tailored black tuxedo. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching as his eyes traveled over me.

"You are stunning, Evelyn," he whispered, stepping forward and offering me his arm. "Like a queen."

"I feel like an imposter," I admitted, clutching his arm tightly.

"You're not," Dominic promised, kissing the back of my hand. "Just stay close to me. Tonight, we end this."

The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a spectacle of decadent wealth and dangerous power. Men in thousand-dollar suits whispered in corner booths while women draped in diamonds sipped expensive champagne.

The moment Dominic walked through the double doors with me on his arm, the music seemed to falter. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

"Look... it's Romano! He’s alive!"

"Who is that woman with him?"

At the far end of the ballroom, standing near a towering champagne fountain, was Salvatore Moretti—a fat, arrogant man in his late fifties with a greasy mustache and a sneering smile.

When Moretti spotted Dominic—and me—his face drained of all color. He nearly dropped his glass.

Dominic guided me across the room, the sea of mobsters parting instantly to let us through. We stopped right in front of Moretti.

"Salvatore," Dominic said pleasantly, his voice cool and confident. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"Dominic..." Moretti stammered, wiping sweat from his upper lip. "I... I heard there was an incident at your estate. I was so worried..."

"I'm sure you were," Dominic replied smoothly. "Allow me to introduce my companion. This is Evelyn Hart. The woman who saved my life from your poison, and the woman who helped me wipe out your strike team three nights ago."

Moretti glared at me, his eyes full of venom. "You... you little kitchen rat. You destroyed months of planning!"

"She's more than a chef, Salvatore," Dominic said, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. "She is the future of the Romano empire."

Before Moretti could respond, Dominic snapped his fingers. Marcus stepped forward, holding a silver briefcase, which he snapped open on a high-top table, revealing dozens of financial ledgers, recorded wiretaps, and bank records.

"These are Moretti’s private accounts," Dominic announced loudly, his voice echoing across the entire ballroom as every eyes turned toward us. "Proving he has been stealing three percent from every commission family for the past five years to fund his illegal weapon trades."

Gasps erupted across the room. Several high-ranking crime bosses stepped forward, their faces darkening with murderous rage as they looked at the ledgers.