He Ordered His Capo to Break Her Bones, but When the Waitress Spoke Ancient Sicilian, the Mafia Boss Smiled: “You Belong to Me Now”

Khloe casually stepped away from the balcony railing, blending seamlessly back into the swirling crowd of socialites and syndicate figures. Her pulse thudded against her ribs like a trapped bird, but her face remained as smooth as polished marble.

She spotted Enzo standing near the grand fireplace, surrounded by two city council members. He caught her eye across the room. She gave him the subtle signal they had agreed upon—a slow touch to her left diamond earring.

Enzo’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. He smoothly excused himself from the politicians and joined Khloe near the ice sculpture display.

“What did you catch?” Enzo murmured, leaning in as if whispering an intimate compliment into her ear.

“Pier 42. Thursday at midnight,” Khloe whispered back, her lips barely moving against his shoulder. “They’re paying Sal three hundred thousand to loop the security feeds. It’s an ambush, Enzo. They plan to kill you there.”

Enzo’s posture didn't change, but Khloe felt the sudden tension in the muscle of his arm beneath his tuxedo jacket. A cold, lethal calm settled over him.

“Sal is bolder than I gave him credit for,” Enzo said softly. “We leave now.”

As they made their way toward the grand exit, Sal suddenly appeared from the private dining wing, holding a tumbler of bourbon. His eyes were bloodshot, and when he saw Khloe on Enzo’s arm in an emerald designer gown, shock and malice flickered across his heavy features.

“Boss,” Sal slurred slightly, blocking their path near the foyer. “Didn't expect to see you leaving so early. And with... the girl from the floor?”

“Sal,” Enzo said, his tone dangerously polite. “You look like you've had enough for one evening. Go home.”

Sal sneered at Khloe. “You cleaned up nice, sweetheart. Amazing what five hundred dollars in makeup can do for a waitress.”

Khloe didn't back down. She stepped forward slightly, looking Sal dead in the eyes with absolute poise. “Good taste doesn’t cost money, Sal. But loyalty is priceless. Enjoy your drink.”

Sal’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around his glass. Enzo gently placed his hand on Khloe’s waist, steering her past the capo and out into the cool night air where Frankie had the armored Mercedes idling at the curb.

“You have a dangerous mouth, Khloe,” Enzo said as the car pulled away into the rainy Chicago night.

“I spent six years dealing with arrogant men who thought a tray meant a lack of a brain,” she replied, leaning her head back against the leather headrest. “I’m not going to start bowing to them now.”