My ex thought he could humiliate me in front of the whole ballroom until the mafia boss stood up.

Emma unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers. She pulled the door open, her small apartment suddenly feeling even smaller with Dante Caruso standing in the doorway.

He didn't step inside immediately. He looked around the tiny room—the peeling wallpaper, the small kitchenette with a single burner, the mattress on the floor covered in a cheap quilt. A frown flickered across his elegant features, so fast she almost missed it.

"You cannot stay here," Dante said, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation. Marco remained in the hallway, a silent, watchful sentinel.

"This is my home," Emma said, her voice defensive despite the fear still humming in her veins. "I pay six hundred dollars a month for this place. It's all I can afford."

"It is a fire trap, the lock on your front door is a joke, and your ex-husband knows the address," Dante countered, walking over to her small window and looking down at the street. "Marcus is desperate. Desperate men do foolish things. Next time, he won't come alone. He will try to use you as leverage against his debts."

"Leverage? How? I don't have any money!"

"But you have value to me," Dante said, turning around to face her.

Emma’s breath caught. "What do you mean by that?"

Dante walked closer, his presence commanding the entire room. "The Caruso family operates on a strict code of honor, Emma. At the gala, I publicly took you under my protection. In our world, if a protected person is harmed, it makes the protector look weak. I am many things, but I am never weak."

He reached out, his long, scarred fingers gently catching a stray lock of her dark hair and tucking it behind her ear. His touch was surprisingly warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core.

"You are moving into my estate in Lake Forest," he announced.

"What? No!" Emma pulled back, her heart racing. "I am not becoming your... your mistress, or whatever it is you call it!"

Dante let out a dark, low laugh that sent chills down her spine. "A mistress? Miss Hart, you think too highly of my romantic inclinations and too poorly of my standards. You will be my guest. My estate has thirty-two rooms, a full security staff, and a gate that can withstand a rocket launcher. You will be safe there."

"And what do you want in return?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes. "There is always a catch."

Dante’s expression turned dead serious. "My grandfather, the head of the family, is coming from Sicily next week. He believes it is time for me to marry and settle down to solidify my position as the undisputed boss of Chicago. He has chosen a bride for me—a woman from a rival family whom I despise."

Emma’s eyes widened. "You want me to pretend to be your fiancée?"

"I want you to be my shield," Dante corrected. "If I am already deeply in love with an American woman—a woman I am determined to marry—my grandfather cannot force the alliance without risking a civil war within the syndicate. In exchange for your protection, you will play the role of the woman who captured my heart."

"And if I say no?"