MAFIA BOSS BROUGHT HIS NERDY SECRETARY TO AN ELITE SUMMIT AS A HUMILIATING JOKE—UNTIL SHE WALKED IN LOOKING LIKE A RULING EMPRESS AND EXPOSED HIS ENTIRE EMPIRE'S DARKEST SECRET

The safehouse armory beneath the Montgomery Tower was a vault of high-grade weaponry, tactical gear, and tactical surveillance screens.

Elena had stripped out of her ruined emerald gown and slipped into sleek, form-fitting black tactical combat gear, pulling her long chestnut hair back into a high, practical ponytail. Vincent stood across from her, strapping a Kevlar vest over his black tactical shirt, loading magazines into customized assault rifles.

The air in the subterranean armory was thick with tension—not just the tension of an impending war, but an undeniable, magnetic heat that pulled them toward each other with every passing second.

"Gregory has at least fifty men holding the south docks," Elena said, pointing to the blueprints displayed on the holographic table. "Khnets has two armored gunboats stationed in the channel. If we go through the main gate, we’ll be walking straight into a meat grinder."

"We don't go through the gate," Vincent said, stepping behind her. He reached around her, his muscular chest pressing against her back as his hands pointed to the submerged drainage tunnels running beneath the pier. "We enter through the intake valves under dock four. We cut the power, isolate the leadership, and execute Gregory before Khnets can offload his reinforcements."

Elena turned her head, her face inches from his. The proximity was overwhelming. Her hazel eyes locked onto his lips, and for a moment, the sound of the storm outside faded into background static.

"You're very bossy for a man whose life I saved twice tonight," she whispered, her lips parting slightly.

"And you're very bold for an employee who lied to me for seven hundred and thirty days," Vincent growled softly. He reached up, his large, rough hand cupping the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline. "Do you have any idea how much self-control it took not to tear that emerald dress off you in the elevator?"

Elena’s pulse hammered against his palm. She didn't pull away; instead, she leaned into his touch, her hand resting flat against the hard muscle of his chest.

"Who said you had to exercise self-control, Vincent?" she murmured.

Vincent couldn't take it anymore. He leaned down and crushed his lips against hers in a fierce, demanding kiss.

Elena gasped into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the hunger and adrenaline between them exploded. Vincent backed her against the weapons bench, his hands gripping her waist, kissing her with a possessive, dark passion that had been building beneath two years of mundane office routines and unspoken tension.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Elena looked at him with dark, dilated eyes, a breathtaking, wicked smile on her face.

"When this night is over, Romano," she whispered, "we finish this."