The Mafia Boss’s Date Mocked His Plus-Size Maid—Then He Declared Her His Only Queen and Discovered the Truth in His Family Vault

The heavy iron chandelier, weighing over three hundred pounds, snapped from its rusted ceiling mount and plummeted into the center of the crypt.

It struck two of the Russo gunmen with a crushing, metallic crash, splintering stone and sending a cloud of blinding dust and debris across the basement.

In that split second of chaos, Luca drew his Glock with superhuman speed.

He fired three precision shots through the dust. The remaining two Russo mercenaries dropped instantly.

Marco lunged backward behind a heavy stone pillar, firing his shotgun. The blast chewed into the stone near Luca’s shoulder, spraying sharp fragments across the crypt.

“Emma, move!” Luca roared, diving behind a marble sarcophagus and pulling her down beside him.

“I have two rounds left!” Emma called out over the ringing in her ears, her back pressed against the cold marble.

“Save them,” Luca said, his eyes burning with lethal fury. “Marco is mine.”

Marco shouted from behind his pillar, his voice echoing frantically off the stone walls. “You can't get out of here, Luca! Silvio has fifty men surrounding the block! Give me the ledger, and I’ll let the girl walk!”

“You should have taken the money and run to Mexico, Marco,” Luca called back, his voice dropping into that chilling, demonic whisper that preceded slaughter. “Because now you die in a church.”

Luca pulled a flashbang grenade from his tactical vest, pulled the pin with his teeth, and banked it off the far wall toward Marco’s pillar.

A blinding white explosion and a deafening boom ripped through the crypt.

Marco screamed, clutching his ears as the shockwave disoriented him.

Luca burst from behind the sarcophagus like a striking panther. He closed the distance in two strides, kicked the shotgun from Marco’s hands, and slammed the traitor against the stone pillar with enough force to crack the masonry.

Luca’s forearm was pressed against Marco’s throat, his Glock pressed firmly under the traitor's chin.

Marco gasped for air, his eyes wide with terrified realization. “Luca... please... we were brothers—”

“Brothers don't point guns at the woman I love,” Luca whispered coldly.

Emma’s breath hitched in the shadows. The woman I love.

Before Marco could beg again, Luca struck him across the temple with the heavy steel grip of his weapon, knocking the traitor out cold on the floor.

Luca turned back to Emma, breathing hard, his tuxedo shirt torn and bloodstained. He holstered his weapon and walked over to her, his gaze sweeping over her body to check for injuries.

“You hurt?”

“No,” Emma breathed, clutching the leather-bound ledger tightly. “You called me... the woman you love.”

Luca stopped in front of her. The cold, murderous fury in his eyes melted away, replaced by an intensity that made Emma’s heart hammer wildly against her ribs.

He reached out, his large, calloused hands framing her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

“Do you really think this was an act, Emma?” Luca murmured, his deep voice vibrating in the dark crypt. “Do you think I let you boss me around for three years because I was amused? I have loved you since the day you walked into my study and told me my taste in art was depressing.”

Emma looked up into his dark eyes, her breath catching. “Luca...”

“I didn't care about the Russo alliance,” Luca continued, his voice fierce and raw with emotion. “I used my grandmother’s matchmaking as an excuse to keep you close because I was terrified that if you left, I would tear this city apart looking for you. You are the only good thing in my life, Emma Carter.”

Emma let out a ragged breath, tears shining in her eyes. For three years, she had hidden her own feelings behind witty insults and professional walls, convinced that a ruthless billionaire Don would never truly want a plus-size woman from the rough side of Chicago.

“You are an idiot, Luca Moretti,” Emma whispered, a brilliant, tearful smile breaking across her face.

“Probably,” Luca said softly.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his in a deep, hungry, desperate kiss.

The kiss ignited like gasoline on fire. Luca’s arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet and pulling her lush curves flush against his hard body. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his dark hair, giving everything she had back to him.

The danger, the blood, the mafia war—everything faded into background noise against the intoxicating heat of his mouth.