The Mafia Boss Kidnapped the Wrong Curvy Woman, and Three Weeks Later His Entire Empire Was Begging Her Not to Leave

On the eighteenth day of her captivity, the compound’s alarms did not sound, but the silence changed.

Maggie was in the pantry checking the expiration dates on the emergency flour sacks when she heard the distinct, heavy sound of multiple vehicles starting at once in the main courtyard. She walked out to the kitchen and found Marco standing by the prep table, his hand holding a carving knife that was trembling against the steel.

"What is it?" Maggie asked.

"The south gate," Marco whispered. "Calder’s people... they found the tracking device the real courier had hidden in her bag before she died. They think it’s here. They’re moving three units toward the western wall."

Maggie didn't wait. She ran up the back stairs toward the library, her flats making no sound on the thick runners. She burst through the doors without knocking.

Rafael was there, surrounded by Silas and five other tactical leaders. He was strapping a black Kevlar vest over his white shirt, his movements calm, deliberate, and final.

"Ms. Brooks," Rafael said, his eyes snapping to her as she entered. "Go to the safe room below the cellar. Now."

"Silas," Maggie said, completely ignoring Rafael as she turned to the security chief. "Where is the western wall breach?"

"The old carriage house," Silas said, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to take direction from the civilian. He looked at Rafael for permission to speak.

"The carriage house has a gravel driveway that leads to the main road," Maggie said, her brain calculating the layout of the estate based on her morning inventory walks. "But that driveway is bordered by the old drainage ditch from the pool. If you open the emergency relief valve on the pool house deck, you can flood that ditch with four thousand gallons of chlorinated water in three minutes. It turns the gravel into a muddy swamp. Their trucks will bottom out before they clear the tree line."

Silas stared at her, his jaw dropping. "The relief valve? I didn't even know the pool had a drainage ditch."

"It does," Maggie said, her clipboard raised like a shield. "It was installed in nineteen-eighty-two to comply with township runoff regulations. The valve is behind the green electrical box near the diving board. It requires a crescent wrench or a heavy pair of pliers to turn the spindle."

Rafael stopped adjusting his vest. He looked at Maggie, his gray eyes flashing with a sudden, brilliant intensity that looked less like the Ice King and more like a man who had just found his general.

"Silas," Rafael said, his voice cutting through the room like a whistle. "Take two men. Flood the ditch. Now."

"Yes, boss," Silas shouted, already running for the door.

Rafael walked across the room until he was standing inches from Maggie. He reached out, his large hands catching her by the upper arms, his fingers digging into the soft wool of her beige cardigan. The heat radiating from his body was immense, his chest rising and falling against the black Kevlar.

"You are going to the safe room," he said, his voice dropping into a fierce, quiet command. "And you are going to stay there until I come for you."

"Don't get blood on that vest, Rafael," Maggie said, her voice dropping to match his. "I don't know how to remove iron stains from synthetic fibers, and it will ruin the inventory report."

Rafael’s mouth twitched—a full, undeniable trace of a smile that vanished as quickly as it had arrived. He leaned down, his forehead briefly touching hers, the skin of his brow hot against her skin.