THE MAID WHO SAVED THE MOB BOSS'S HEIR

Six Months Later

The Chicago spring had finally broken through the bitter winter, washing the sprawling grounds of the Moretti estate in vibrant, brilliant green.

I stood on the stone terrace overlooking the newly restored gardens, holding a cup of steaming coffee. I wasn't wearing a black uniform or a white apron. I was wearing a soft, cashmere sweater and tailored jeans.

A lot had changed in six months.

The siege of the Moretti estate had broken the Bellini family. Silas and Vanessa were both sitting in federal prison, having been handed over to the authorities with enough anonymous evidence to guarantee they would never see the outside of a cell again. Dante was dead, and his faction in Sicily had been dismantled by Luca's loyalists.

Luca had spent a month in the hospital recovering from his gunshot wound, running his empire from a heavily guarded private suite. And I had never left his side.

The transition hadn't been easy. The traditional mafia families had balked at the idea of a Don elevating a common maid—a woman with no bloodline, no power, and no wealth. But Luca Moretti was not a man who asked for permission.

"You're staring at the roses again."

Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and a warm chest pressed against my back. Luca rested his chin on my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against my neck. He smelled of rich espresso and expensive cologne.

"I was just thinking about how quiet the house is today," I smiled, leaning back into his embrace.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Luca murmured. "Sophie has a playdate this afternoon, and my mother invited her entire physical therapy group over for high tea."

I laughed softly. Teresa Moretti had made a miraculous recovery. With the toxic stress of Silas and Vanessa removed from her life, and surrounded by people who actually listened to her, her speech had rapidly improved. She still spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words, but her voice was strong, and her mind was sharper than ever. She had taken over the running of the household, ruling the staff with a firm but incredibly kind hand.

"She's happy, Luca," I said, turning in his arms to look up at him.

"We're all happy," Luca corrected, his dark eyes softening as he looked down at me. He reached up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Except for my accountants. My mother insists on paying for your mother's private nursing care in full."

My heart swelled. My mother was recovering beautifully in a private, state-of-the-art facility, entirely funded by the Moretti family. When Luca had told my mother the truth about how his father had protected her all those years ago, my mother had wept. The secret she had carried for decades was finally out, and the burden was lifted.

"I can pay them back," I teased, smiling up at him. "I hear you have an opening for a head housekeeper."

Luca's expression grew serious, though a spark of amusement danced in his eyes. "I don't need a housekeeper, Hannah."

He took a step back, reaching into the pocket of his tailored slacks.

My breath hitched in my throat as Luca slowly dropped to one knee on the sunlit terrace.

He opened a small, black velvet box. Inside rested a brilliant, flawless, vintage diamond ring.

"This was my grandmother's ring," Luca said, his deep voice thick with emotion. "My father gave it to my mother the day he promised to protect her forever. I want to give it to the woman who protected my family when I was blind to the threats inside my own home."

Tears instantly blurred my vision. I covered my mouth with both hands, completely unable to speak.

"Hannah Collins," Luca said, looking up at me with absolute, unwavering devotion. "You walked into my life as an employee, but you fought like a queen. You saved my daughter. You gave my mother her voice back. And you gave me a reason to believe in something better than the violence I was born into."

He paused, taking my trembling left hand in his.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," I sobbed, laughing through the tears. "Yes, Luca. Absolutely, yes."

He slid the cold metal onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly. He stood up, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the ground, spinning me once before capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

All the fear, the blood, and the terror of the past year melted away, replaced by the solid, unbreakable warmth of the man holding me.

"Ew, gross."

We broke apart, laughing.

Standing in the doorway of the terrace, wearing a bright yellow sundress and holding her favorite stuffed bunny, was Sophie. She was grinning from ear to ear.

"We're getting married, piccola mia," Luca said, kneeling down and opening his arm.

Sophie ran across the terrace, throwing her arms around Luca's neck. I knelt down beside them, and Sophie immediately reached out, pulling me into the hug.

"I know," Sophie whispered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Grandma told me yesterday. She said you were the one."

I looked up through the glass doors.

Standing in the formal dining room, leaning heavily on her cane, was Teresa Moretti. She wasn't glaring, and she wasn't silent. She raised her hand, giving me a small, elegant wave, her face glowing with genuine joy.