THE MAFIA BOSS CAME TO TAKE BACK HIS DOG—BUT WHEN THE DOG CHOSE THE HUMILIATED WOMAN INSTEAD, HE CLAIMED HER AS HIS FUTURE WIFE

The music from the grand ballroom echoed softly through the heavy velvet curtains of the private second-floor balcony.

Outside, the cool ocean breeze carried the scent of salt water and jasmine. The rain had completely stopped, leaving the night sky clear and brilliant with thousands of diamond stars reflecting off the dark surface of the harbor.

Emily stood at the stone railing, her hands resting on the cool marble. She had removed her high heels, her bare feet enjoying the solid ground after hours of dancing.

Behind her, the heavy glass door slid open silently.

Dante walked out onto the balcony, holding two crystal glasses of sparkling water. He had removed his bow tie, his collar unbuttoned slightly, giving him an air of dangerous, relaxed elegance. Brutus trotted out behind him, immediately laying down at Emily’s feet with a heavy sigh.

Dante handed a glass to Emily. “You dominated that ballroom tonight, little bird.”

Emily took a slow sip, looking out at the city lights. “I was terrified, Dante. Every person in that room looked like they had three bodies buried in their basement.”

“Most of them do,” Dante said plainly, leaning his hip against the railing beside her. “Including the politicians.”

Emily looked up at him, studying the sharp profile of his face under the moonlight. The lethal mob boss who had casually dismantled an entire criminal syndicate an hour ago was now standing beside her, holding a glass of water, his posture completely relaxed.

“What happens now?” Emily asked softly. “Carmine is ruined. Your docks are safe. Your dog is recovering. Do I go back to my pet shop tomorrow?”

Dante froze. He slowly turned his head to look at her.

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken tension.

“Is that what you want?” Dante asked, his gray eyes darkening until they looked like storm clouds. “To go back to your drafty shop, your empty shelves, and your lonely apartment?”

“It’s my life, Dante,” Emily whispered, her heart beating a fast, confused rhythm against her ribs. “This... this world of yours is beautiful, but it’s built on blood and danger. I’m just a girl who rescues dogs.”

Dante set his crystal glass down on the stone ledge with a sharp clink. He took a step closer to her, closing the distance between them until her back hit the stone railing.

“You are not 'just' anything, Emily,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a deep, intense baritone that vibrated straight through her chest. “You walked into my world and brought light into a house that has been dark for fifteen years. My men respect you. My dog loves you.”

He reached out, his large, warm hand cupping her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone.

“And what about you, Dante?” Emily whispered, her breath catching as his face hovered inches from hers. “What do you want?”

“I want you,” Dante answered without a second of hesitation. His dark eyes burned with a fierce, possessive raw emotion that made her knees go weak. “Not as a fake fiancée. Not as a temporary guest. I want you as my wife. I want to give you every pet sanctuary in this state. I want to build a world where no one can ever hurt you again.”

Emily’s breath hitched. “Dante...”