BONUS SCENE
DANTE
There were three rules in my house now, and every single one of them had been written by my wife.
The first rule was that no guard was allowed to call Sienna “ma’am” unless he wanted to be assigned to laundry duty for a week.
The second was that Clara could attend class without an armed convoy inside the building, provided the convoy stayed outside like normal, terrifying people.
The third rule was the one currently ruining my morning.
Boris was not allowed in my office during breakfast meetings.
Boris disagreed.
The massive Neapolitan Mastiff sat beside my desk with his chin resting on Sienna’s knee, drooling onto the hem of her black dress while she reviewed the import invoices I had given her.
He looked like a war beast from a medieval painting.
He also looked deeply wounded by the lack of prosciutto in his immediate future.
“Your dog is emotionally manipulating me,” Sienna said without looking up from the ledger.
“My dog guarded this house for six years before you arrived,” I replied, signing the bottom of a union contract. “He never manipulated anyone.”
Boris sighed as if I had personally betrayed him.
Sienna finally glanced up. Her red mouth curved. “Dante, he is staring at me like a widower in a rainstorm.”
Luca, sitting in the chair across from my desk, covered his mouth with his fist and made a noise that was not a cough.
I looked at him. “Do you have something to add?”
“No, boss.” Luca’s eyes watered with the effort of not laughing. “I am just admiring the new chain of command.”
Sienna turned a page in the ledger. “Good. Then admire quietly.”
My underboss nodded with solemn obedience. I had watched this man walk through gunfire with a knife in his hand and a grin on his face. My wife had silenced him with a spreadsheet.
I should have been annoyed.
Instead, I wanted to kiss her until she forgot every number in that ledger.
“This supplier is lying,” Sienna said, tapping one manicured nail against the page. “The produce invoices are inflated by twelve percent, and the seafood deliveries are being routed through a shell company in Jersey. Either your restaurant manager is incompetent, or he is stealing.”
“Which one do you think?” I asked.
She looked at me over the top of the paper, all soft sweater, sharp lipstick, and lethal intelligence. “I think he has poor survival instincts.”
Luca stood. “I’ll get the car.”
“Sit down,” Sienna said.
He sat.
I leaned back in my chair, slowly folding my hands over my stomach. “You intend to handle it?”
“I intend to send Elena with a revised contract, two guards, and a very polite note explaining that his employment has ended.” Sienna lifted her chin. “If he returns the money by five o’clock, we do not break anything. If he does not, you may do whatever dramatic thing you were already planning.”
“I was not planning anything dramatic.”
Luca stared at the ceiling.
Boris sneezed.
Sienna smiled. “You were absolutely planning something dramatic.”
She was right. I had already decided on a warehouse, three men, and one lesson about loyalty.
I reached across the desk and took the ledger from her hands. She let me, but only because I caught her wrist and turned it over, pressing my mouth to the inside of her palm.
Her smile softened. The room went quiet in the way it always did when she forgot to pretend I did not affect her.
“Careful, Mr. Morretti,” she murmured. “I am working.”
“So am I.”
“Kissing your wife is not work.”
“It is the only part of this empire I enjoy.”
Luca pushed out of his chair with the grave dignity of a man abandoning a burning building. “I am going to check the perimeter before this becomes legally uncomfortable.”
“Coward,” Sienna called after him.
“Alive coward,” he called back, shutting the door behind him.
Boris took the opportunity to place one enormous paw on Sienna’s lap.
She looked down at him. “You are not subtle.”
He thumped his tail once.
I pulled open the top drawer of my desk, removed the small paper packet Elena had left there against my explicit orders, and tossed a slice of prosciutto to the traitor. Boris caught it midair with the precision of a trained killer and the dignity of a spoiled child.
Sienna’s eyes narrowed. “You said no breakfast bribery.”
“I said no dog in the office during breakfast meetings. The meeting is over.”
“Because Luca fled.”
“Because you dismissed him.”
She considered that, then nodded. “Acceptable loophole.”
I came around the desk and drew her out of the chair. Boris grumbled at the loss of his pillow, but Sienna rose onto her toes and looped her arms around my neck, and the entire world narrowed to the warmth of her body against mine.
“You are smiling,” she whispered.
“Impossible.”
“Terrifying, actually.”
I bent my head until my mouth brushed hers. “You are ruining my reputation.”
Her lips curved against mine. “Good.”
I kissed her then, slowly, in the middle of my office, with a guard dog chewing prosciutto at our feet and half a criminal empire waiting outside the door for instructions.
For most of my life, I had believed peace was control. Silence. Obedience. Locked doors and men who lowered their eyes when I entered a room.
Then Sienna Rossi burned my pillows, stole my dog, corrected my books, and turned my fortress into a home.
I still ruled New York.
But my wife ruled me.
And God help the city, I liked it that way.