SHE SAVED A MAFIA BOSS’S BLEEDING DOG IN A RAINY ALLEY AT 3 AM — SHE NEVER EXPECTED ITS OWNER TO VOW MARRIAGE BEFORE DAWN

Chapter 2

The penthouse sat sixty floors above Manhattan, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass and the kind of silence that only money and fear could buy. Crystal tumblers clinked around the long obsidian table. Expensive suits. Expensive watches. The smell of aged whiskey and cigarette smoke hanging low in the dim blue-tinted air.

Vincent Moretti’s most trusted men sprawled across leather chairs after a long night of blood and numbers. The kind of meeting where cities changed hands and men disappeared.

One of them exhaled a slow ribbon of smoke and smirked at the ceiling. “Boss,” he said lazily. “The family crest needs an heir. When exactly are you planning to find a wife?”

Low laughter rumbled around the table.

Vincent didn’t look up from the monitor in front of him. His jaw was sharp. His black suit perfectly pressed — not a single crease despite the long night. He sat the way a man sits when the entire room belongs to him. Still. Deliberate. Cold. He reached for his whiskey glass, turned it once, and said flatly, “I’ll marry whoever my dog trusts. Since he trusts no one, the problem solves itself.”