"My boss invited me to the most dangerous mafia gala in New York to humiliate his painfully ordinary secretary. He had no idea I had spent three years hiding my true self—until I walked through those doors."

It was 2:00 AM on Thursday when my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand of my apartment. I woke instantly, my hand sliding under the pillow where I now kept a compact titanium tactical blade Larkin had insisted I carry.

"Talk to me," I answered, my voice steady.

"Penelope. Get your bag. Now."

Larkin’s voice was clipped, breathless, and laced with an urgency I had never heard before.

"Larkin? What's happening?"

"Thomas went rogue," Larkin said grimly, background noise of screeching tires and sirens echoing through his phone line. "He went behind my back, made a deal with the Russian remnants we squeezed out on Monday, and leaked our primary offshore ledger to the FBI. Federal agents are raiding the forty-second floor as we speak. They're coming for you first."

Cold dread seized my chest. "Me? Why me?"

"Because Thomas told them you are the mastermind behind the syndicate’s financial laundering network," Larkin snarled. "He's trying to throw you to the wolves to save his own skin."

"Where are you?"

"I'm outside your apartment building in the Maybach. Get down here. We have twenty minutes before the federal warrant reaches your address."

I didn't panic. Panic was a luxury for people who didn't balance the books of organized crime.

I threw on a dark trench coat over my pajamas, grabbed my emergency go-bag containing my passport, cash, and backup hard drives of every financial ledger I had ever managed, and sprinted down the fire escape into the freezing alleyway.

The matte-black Maybach was idling with its doors unlocked. I yanked the rear door open and dove inside just as Larkin slammed his foot on the gas, shooting out of the alley before federal cruisers even turned the corner.

"Are you hit?" Larkin demanded, twisting around in the driver's seat to check on me, his eyes wild with a protective fury.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I panted, catching my breath as the car surged onto the FDR Drive. "Where are we going? If Thomas leaked the primary ledger, every federal database in the country has my name flagged."

"We're going to my private airstrip in Teterboro," Larkin said grimly, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. "We have a plane waiting to take us to Zurich. Once we cross international waters, the FBI can't touch us."

I stared at him through the dim dashboard light. "Run? Larkin Steves, you're running?"

"I'm not running from the FBI," Larkin snapped, turning his head to look at me, his gaze burning with absolute intensity. "I'm protecting what's mine. I spent three years watching you sit across from me, wishing I had the courage to tear down the walls between us. I am not losing you to a federal penitentiary because my idiot cousin wanted revenge."

The car wove aggressively through traffic, the rain beginning to streak across the windshield in violent sheets.

"And Thomas?" I asked quietly.

Larkin’s jaw tightened into a hard, unforgiving line. "Thomas is currently learning what happens when you betray the family. My enforcers caught him trying to board a flight to Miami an hour ago. He's being dealt with as we speak."

We reached the private airstrip within twenty minutes.

A sleek, twin-engine Gulfstream sat idling on the tarmac, its turbine engines screaming against the howling wind and rain. Armed security guards stood at the foot of the loading ramp, scanning the perimeter.

Larkin killed the engine, turned around, and opened my door. He extended a gloved hand, helping me out into the freezing downpour, pulling me tightly against his chest under a massive black umbrella.

"Come on," he shouted over the roar of the jet engines.

We climbed the metal steps into the warm, leather-lined cabin of the private jet. The door sealed shut behind us, cutting off the chaos of the outside world.

As the plane taxied down the runway and prepared for takeoff, Larkin sank into the seat across from me, running a hand through his dark hair, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

"Well," I said softly, setting my go-bag on the floor between us. "So much for a quiet corporate career."

Larkin looked up, a slow, crooked smile touching his lips. He unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up, and crossed the narrow aisle, dropping to one knee right in front of my seat.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy velvet box.

My breath caught.

"Larkin..."

"I didn't plan on proposing on a private jet fleeing the FBI," Larkin murmured, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a vulnerability I had never seen in him before. "I imagined something a little more traditional. A nice restaurant. No guns. No federal indictments."

He popped the velvet box open. Inside rested a stunning, vintage platinum ring set with a deep, midnight-blue sapphire flanked by two brilliant-cut diamonds.

"When you walked into the Continental Hotel on Friday night wearing that black dress, I realized something," Larkin continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't hire an ordinary secretary three years ago. I hired my equal. My partner. The only person in this city strong enough to stand beside me in the dark."

He slid the heavy ring onto my finger. It fit with absolute, terrifying perfection.

"Marry me, Penelope," he whispered. "Let's burn the ledgers, leave the empire behind, and build something real. Together."

I looked down at the sapphire ring, then up into the eyes of the man who had terrified, challenged, and ultimately consumed my entire soul.