12 "The most dangerous man in New York offered me ten million dollars as a joke, never imagining the shy waitress in the corner could read the secret that would destroy everyone in the room.

To breach the gala hosted by the Treasury Department at the Federal Reserve building—the perfect cover for our operation—I could no longer look like the invisible waitress from The Sterling.

Dominic arranged for a private team of stylists to arrive at the Greenwich underground hideout. By eight o'clock the following evening, the plain, mousey girl with hair pinned in a tight bun was gone.

I stood before a full-length floor mirror, staring at a stranger. I wore a backless, emerald-green silk gown that clung to every curve, falling to the floor in a sleek, elegant train. My golden hair was styled in soft, cascading Hollywood waves, and around my neck sat a stunning diamond choker—a gift from Dominic, meant to conceal the thin scar where Constantine's thug had grabbed me years ago.

The door opened, and Dominic walked in. He wore a custom, midnight-black tuxedo, looking every bit the lethal, aristocratic king of New York's underworld.

When his eyes fell on me, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The cold, calculated mob boss vanished for a brief second, replaced by a man genuinely breathless. His gaze moved slowly down the length of the gown, then back up to meet my eyes in the mirror.

"You look..." Dominic began, his voice surprisingly thick. He walked up behind me, resting his large hands gently on my bare shoulders. His skin was warm, sending goosebumps cascading down my spine. "...devastating."

"I feel like an imposter," I admitted, looking at our reflection—the mafia king and the waitress, standing side by side like nobility.

"You aren't an imposter, Amelia," he murmured, his head dipping down until his lips lightly brushed the side of my neck, right above the diamond collar. "You were born for this world. You just didn't know it."

My heart hammered against my ribs, not from fear, but from a sudden, dizzying rush of longing. In the middle of blood, vengeance, and war, this dangerous man had become my anchor.

"If anything goes wrong tonight," Dominic said softly, turning me around to face him, his hands sliding down to rest gently on my waist, "you run. Marco will have a car at the south exit. You take the ten million, you take a new passport, and you leave."