The gun on the table was real. I knew that before I saw the man holding it. In the most expensive restaurant in New York, a three-year-old boy was screaming so hard the crystal

The silence that followed was absolute.

The air in the gallery was thick with the scent of gunpowder, copper, and shattered glass.

I dropped my weapon to the floor, my hands trembling uncontrollably, and ran straight toward Ricardo.

"Ricardo!" I cried, catching him as his knees finally buckled.

I lowered him gently to the floor, leaning his back against the base of the grand piano. Blood was soaking rapidly through his dark tuxedo jacket near his left shoulder.

"I'm fine," Ricardo grunted, his face pale, though a faint, stubborn smile touched his lips. "It's just a flesh wound."

"You're an idiot," I sobbed, tears streaming down my face as I tore a strip of silk from my dress and pressed it firmly against his bleeding wound. "You could have been killed!"

"I promised to protect you, Elena," Ricardo whispered, reaching up with his good right hand to cup my face. His touch was warm, steady, and full of raw emotion. "I keep my promises."

Footsteps echoed down the corridor as Frank and a squad of loyal Moretti security guards poured into the room, their weapons raised.

"Boss!" Frank gasped, taking in the scene of defeated enemies and the bleeding mob leader. "Medical team is on their way up!"

"Secure the perimeter, Frank," Ricardo commanded, his voice weak but firm. "And bring Leo up from the bunker. It's over."

Twenty minutes later, the estate was flooded with private medical personnel and loyal guards clearing the damage. Ricardo sat on the leather sofa in his private study, his shoulder professionally bandaged, a glass of bourbon sitting on the table beside him.

I sat beside him, wrapped in a warm blanket, holding a cup of tea.

Leo ran into the study, his little boots pattering against the floor, and threw himself into my lap, burying his face in my blanket.

"Elena! Daddy!" Leo cried happily, completely unaware of the war that had just been fought under his roof. "The noise stopped!"

"Yes, baby," I whispered, kissing the top of his head, holding him tight. "The noise stopped completely."

Ricardo looked at the two of us. The dark, brooding aura that had surrounded him for five years seemed to melt away, leaving behind a man who was finally free from his ghosts.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the massive velvet box containing the engagement ring I had taken off before the fight.

"Our three-year contract is void, Elena," Ricardo said quietly, looking into my eyes.

My heart sank. A cold knot formed in my stomach. "Void?"

"I asked you to enter a fake engagement to protect my empire and care for my son," Ricardo said, stepping closer and kneeling right in front of my chair. "I told you never to fall in love with me. I told you it was just business."

He took my left hand in his, his fingers gentle.

"I was wrong," Ricardo whispered, his dark eyes shining with absolute sincerity. "I don't want a fake fiancée. I don't want a three-year deal. I want you to stay. Not because of a contract. Not because of Leo. But because I have fallen completely, hopelessly in love with you, Elena Vance."

I stared at him, tears welling in my eyes, the cold fear that had ruled my life for five years completely vanishing into the warmth of his gaze.