The Plus-Size Woman Paid a Stranger $200 to Pretend He Loved Her at Her Sister’s Wedding—But When Gunmen Stormed the Ballroom, She Discovered Her Fake Boyfriend Was Chicago’s Most Feared Mafia Boss…and His Feelings Were No Longer an Act

The Plus-Size Woman Paid a Stranger $200 to Pretend He Loved Her at Her Sister’s Wedding—But When Gunmen Stormed the Ballroom, She Discovered Her Fake Boyfriend Was Chicago’s Most Feared Mafia Boss…and His Feelings Were No Longer an Act

Part 1

Two crumpled hundred-dollar bills were the price Linda Jenkins placed on four hours of dignity.

She pushed them across the sticky diner table toward the stranger sitting opposite her and tried not to notice how his broad shoulders strained the dark navy suit he wore.

“You’re the man who answered my ad?”

The stranger glanced down at the money.

A slow smile appeared on his face.

“I can be.”

His voice was low and rough, carrying an authority that did not belong in a twenty-four-hour diner smelling of stale coffee and frying oil.

Linda swallowed.

She had expected a struggling actor, perhaps an unemployed waiter with a wrinkled jacket and a convincing smile. She had not expected a man who looked as though expensive suits had been invented specifically for him.

He was at least six feet three, with black hair swept neatly from a hard, striking face. A faint shadow of stubble sharpened his jaw. His dark eyes remained fixed on Linda with such unnerving intensity that she wanted to tug her coat over her body and disappear inside it.

She resisted.

Tonight, disappearing was not an option.

“My name is Linda,” she said. “The job is simple. My sister is getting married at the Drake Hotel. I need you to pretend you’re my boyfriend for four hours.”

“And why do you need a pretend boyfriend?”

“Because my ex is the best man.”

The stranger leaned back.

Linda continued before she lost her nerve.

“Samuel dumped me three years ago. He left a gym membership brochure and a box of diet shakes on my counter with a note saying he wanted someone who cared about herself.”

A dangerous stillness entered the stranger’s expression.

“He is bringing his fiancée tonight. She teaches Pilates, wears a size zero, and probably thinks bread is a moral failure.”

His mouth twitched.

Linda looked down at her hands.

“My family will stare at me. My mother will make comments about my plate. Samuel will act as if leaving me was an act of charity.”

She forced herself to meet his eyes.

“I need you to hold my hand, tell people we met in a bookstore, and look at me as though I matter.”

The amusement vanished from his face.

“Do you believe you don’t?”

Linda laughed without humor.

“I weigh two hundred and eighty pounds. People make their opinions clear.”

The stranger pushed the money back.

“Keep it until the night is over.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“It is now.”

Linda narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Nicholas Russo.”

Ten minutes earlier, Nicholas Russo had not been looking for a fake dating job.

He had entered the diner to meet an informant connected to the Moretti organization, the only criminal faction powerful enough to threaten the Russo family’s hold over Chicago’s southern ports.

Then he spotted two Moretti scouts at the counter.

He needed a cover.

Linda had been sitting alone, shredding a napkin and looking at every man who entered as though waiting for someone.

He had crossed the room intending to use her desperation for ten minutes.

Instead, he found himself listening.

Nicholas had spent his life surrounded by polished women who praised his power and calculated the value of his attention. Linda offered no performance. She told the humiliating truth with her chin raised even while shame trembled through her voice.

He should have left when the scouts did.

He did not.

“Do you have transportation?” Linda asked. “I don’t want us arriving in a rusty Honda and destroying the illusion before we reach the door.”

“I have a car.”

“Can you be at my apartment at seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

She gathered the money.

“What should I wear?” she asked nervously.

Nicholas stood.

“Something that makes you feel dangerous.”

At precisely seven, an armored black Audi stopped outside Linda’s apartment building.

She emerged wearing a burgundy gown she had ordered months earlier.

The dress fit perfectly.

She still felt as though it exposed every part of herself she had spent years learning to hate.

When Nicholas stepped from the car in a tailored black tuxedo, Linda nearly turned around and fled upstairs.

He looked even more impossible than he had in the diner.

His gaze moved over her.

Linda immediately crossed her arms over her stomach.

“I know,” she muttered. “It’s a lot.”

Nicholas approached and gently uncrossed her arms.

“You look spectacular.”

The sincerity in his voice frightened her more than mockery would have.

“You don’t have to overdo it yet,” she said. “Nobody is watching.”

“I am.”

Her heart stumbled.

Nicholas opened the rear door. When the seat belt would not extend far enough, heat rushed into Linda’s face.

“I should have called an SUV.”

Nicholas leaned across her.

He adjusted the belt without sighing, staring, or making the moment into something humiliating. His cologne surrounded her—cedar, spice, and something darker.

“There,” he said.

Linda studied his face.

“You’re very good at this.”

His gaze lingered on her mouth.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

The Drake Hotel glittered beneath chandeliers and towers of white flowers. The ballroom was crowded with relatives, executives, and friends who had known Linda since childhood.

Their eyes found her immediately.

First they looked at her body.

Then they looked at Nicholas.

The disbelief was almost comical.

Linda gripped his arm.

“Everyone is staring.”

Nicholas lowered his mouth near her ear.

“Let them.”

Her mother hurried toward them in a pale pink dress.

“Linda, you came.”

The surprise hurt more than Linda expected.

“Of course I came. Mom, this is Nicholas. My boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?”

Brenda’s eyes widened.

Nicholas extended his hand.

“Nicholas Russo. It’s a pleasure.”

“What do you do?”

“Waste management and logistics.”

Brenda looked between them. “And how did you two meet?”

“At a bookstore,” Linda answered quickly.

Nicholas smiled.

“She was arguing with a man who had put a first edition in the wrong section. I knew immediately that she was terrifying.”

Linda stared at him.

Her mother laughed uncertainly.

Then Samuel arrived.

He approached with his fiancée attached to his arm, wearing the smug expression Linda remembered from the day he left her.

“Linda,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to come.”

“I’m the bride’s sister.”

“I thought you might avoid the chairs. They have armrests.”

The words struck the old wound with practiced accuracy.

Linda felt herself shrinking.

Nicholas stepped in front of her.

“And you are?”

“Samuel Price. Junior vice president at Morgan Stanley.”

“A junior vice president managing mid-cap portfolios with disappointing quarterly performance.”

Samuel’s face went pale.

“How do you know that?”

Nicholas adjusted his cuff link.

“I know many things. For example, I know a man who insults a woman’s body in public is usually trying to distract people from his inadequacies.”

Samuel glanced around.

“I was joking.”

Nicholas moved half a step closer.

“Then laugh.”

Samuel produced a weak chuckle.

“If you speak to Linda that way again,” Nicholas said softly, “losing your promotion will be the least painful part of your evening.”

Samuel took his fiancée’s hand and retreated.

Linda remained frozen.

“How did you know about his work?”

“I guessed.”

“That was a very specific guess.”

Nicholas offered her his arm.

“You paid for a convincing performance.”

At the bar, he ordered a bottle Linda could not pronounce. On the dance floor, he held her against him rather than leaving careful space between their bodies.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“This doesn’t feel real.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You. This.”

She looked up into his eyes.

“Men like you don’t choose women like me.”

His hand settled more firmly against her back.

“Men like me spend their lives surrounded by beautiful lies.”

“And what am I?”

“Real.”

The word left her breathless.

For one impossible moment, Linda forgot the arrangement.

Then the ballroom doors opened.

Two men in dark, poorly fitted suits entered.

Nicholas changed instantly.

The warmth disappeared from his face. His body tightened against hers, and his eyes became cold enough to stop her heart.

One of the men reached inside his jacket.

Nicholas caught Linda’s hand.

“Do not scream,” he whispered. “Do not release me.”

“What is happening?”

“We are leaving.”

He guided her toward the catering doors without running. Behind them, the armed men began forcing their way through the crowd.

Linda’s gown caught on a table. Champagne glasses crashed to the floor.

The men turned.

“Nicholas?”

“Move.”

They entered the kitchen as shouting erupted behind them. Linda struggled to keep pace, her lungs burning.

“I can’t run in these shoes.”

Nicholas turned, lifted her into his arms, and carried her.

He did not stagger.

He did not hesitate.

The fire exit burst open beneath his shoulder.

A gunshot shattered the night.

Brick exploded inches from Linda’s face.

Nicholas dropped behind a steel dumpster with her protected beneath his body.

From inside his tuxedo, he drew a black pistol.

Linda stared at him in horror.

“Nicholas, who are you?”

He looked toward the approaching gunmen.

“The man who is going to keep you alive.”

Part 2

Part 3

Nicholas became frighteningly calm.

“How many?”

“Four men in two vehicles,” Mateo answered. “They entered Linda’s neighborhood six minutes ago.”

“My mother lives three blocks from me,” Linda said.

Nicholas turned toward her.

“Is she home?”

“She left the wedding early. She should be.”

He took out his phone.

“Send a team to both addresses. Nobody enters either building until they are secure.”

Mateo began issuing orders.

Linda stood so quickly that tea spilled across the table.

“I need to go.”

“No.”

“That is my mother.”

“And Moretti’s men are waiting for you to panic.”

“You don’t understand.”

Nicholas crossed the room.

“I understand that you believe protecting someone means placing yourself between them and danger.”

“You carried me through gunfire.”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t stand there and tell me I can’t do the same for my mother.”

Their eyes locked.

Nicholas had spent years giving commands that were obeyed before he finished speaking. Linda’s refusal should have infuriated him.

Instead, he saw courage.

She was terrified, but she was not helpless.

“You will come with me,” he said. “You will stay inside the armored car until I tell you it is safe.”

“I am not one of your soldiers.”

“No. You are the reason every soldier in this building is about to move.”

Within minutes, three black vehicles sped through Chicago.

Linda sat beside Nicholas in the rear of the Audi. He wore a bulletproof vest beneath a dark overcoat and held a pistol low against his thigh.

She could not stop looking at it.

“You kill people.”

It was not a question.

“When I must.”

“How many?”

Nicholas stared through the window.

“You do not want the answer.”

“That should frighten me.”

“It should.”

“And yet I’m here.”

His hand covered hers.

“I wish we had met differently.”

“You mean without the shooting?”

“Without the lies.”

Linda looked down at their joined hands.

“You could have walked away from the diner.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Nicholas remained silent long enough that she thought he would refuse to answer.

“Because you asked me to look at you as if you mattered.”

Her throat tightened.

“And?”

“I was angry that no one had done it without being paid.”

The convoy stopped outside Linda’s apartment building.

Two men had already been captured in the alley. Another had entered the lobby disguised as a delivery driver. Nicholas’s men dragged him outside in restraints.

The fourth remained missing.

“Stay here,” Nicholas ordered.

Linda watched him leave.

For thirty seconds, nothing happened.

Then her phone rang.

Her mother’s name appeared on the screen.

“Mom?”

A man answered.

“Come upstairs alone, or Brenda dies.”

Linda stopped breathing.

Across the street, Nicholas was speaking with Mateo. If she called out, the man on the phone might hear.

“Let me speak to her.”

Brenda’s frightened voice came through the line.

“Linda, don’t come. Call the police.”

The man struck her.

Brenda cried out.

“Five minutes,” he said. “No Russo.”

The call ended.

Linda opened the car door.

One guard stepped forward. “Ms. Jenkins, you must remain inside.”

“My mother is upstairs.”

“The boss ordered—”

“He also said he respected me.”

She pushed past him.

Nicholas saw her cross the sidewalk.

“Linda.”

She ran toward the entrance.

“He has my mother.”

Nicholas reached her before she entered.

“How do you know?”

“He called from her phone. He said I have to go alone.”

“You are not going alone.”

“He will hurt her.”

“He will hurt both of you regardless.”

Linda struck his chest with both hands.

“This is your fault.”

The words cut through them.

Nicholas did not defend himself.

“Yes.”

She hated that he accepted the blame.

“If I had never met you—”

“Your evening would have ended with Samuel humiliating you, and your mother would be safe.”

His eyes darkened.

“I know.”

The pain in his voice weakened her anger.

Nicholas turned to Mateo.

“Thermal scan.”

“There are two people in the rear bedroom and one moving through the hallway.”

Nicholas studied the building.

“The service stairwell?”

“Accessible from the basement.”

He looked at Linda.

“Call him back. Tell him you are entering the lobby.”

“What are you planning?”

“To give him what he expects to see.”

Nicholas removed his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“You will walk inside. The moment the elevator doors close, get out at the second floor and remain there with Mateo.”

“And you?”

“I will take the service stairs.”

Linda caught his hand.

“Do not die because I hired you for two hundred dollars.”

A faint smile touched his face.

“I stopped being yours for hire the moment you entered that ballroom.”

The plan unfolded in silence.

Linda entered the lobby while Nicholas disappeared through the basement entrance. She stepped into the elevator beneath the security camera and pressed her mother’s floor.

The moment the doors opened on the second level, Mateo pulled her into the hallway.

Gunfire erupted above them.

Linda tried to run toward the stairs, but Mateo blocked her.

“Trust him.”

“I barely know him.”

Mateo’s scarred face softened.

“I have served Nicholas for eighteen years. He has taken bullets for his men, buried brothers, and survived betrayal from his own father.”

He listened to the sounds above.

“I have never seen him frightened until tonight.”

The gunfire stopped.

Silence followed.

Then Nicholas’s voice came through Mateo’s radio.

“Secure.”

Linda reached her mother’s apartment before anyone could stop her.

Brenda sat on the bedroom floor with her wrists tied, crying but alive. Two guards freed her.

Nicholas stood near the window.

Blood soaked the left side of his shirt.

Linda forgot everything except the sight of it.

“You’re hurt.”

“It is shallow.”

“You were shot.”

“The bullet passed through.”

She rushed toward him.

Nicholas caught her before she collided with the wound.

Brenda stared at them.

“Who is this man?”

Linda’s answer lodged in her throat.

Nicholas looked at Brenda.

“I am the reason your daughter was placed in danger.”

“You’re her boyfriend.”

“I hope to be.”

Linda turned toward him.

“You hope?”

He released her slowly.

“I will not make that decision for you.”

The ambulance arrived minutes later. Nicholas refused treatment until Brenda was examined. Only after doctors confirmed she had no serious injuries did he allow someone to close the wound in his side.

Linda remained outside the treatment room.

Her mother sat beside her, wrapped in a blanket.

“I judged him,” Brenda admitted.

“You judge everyone.”

“I judged you more.”

Linda said nothing.

Brenda looked down at her hands.

“I thought criticizing you would make you change before the world hurt you.”

“You became the world that hurt me.”

Tears filled Brenda’s eyes.

“I know.”

It was the first time her mother had admitted it without excuses.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” Brenda whispered.

Linda laughed bitterly. “You only noticed after a man arrived with an expensive car.”

“No.”

Brenda touched her hand.

“I noticed because you walked into that ballroom with your shoulders back. I should have taught you to do that years ago.”

The treatment-room door opened.

Nicholas emerged wearing a clean shirt over heavy bandages.

Brenda stood.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Nicholas nodded.

“Your daughter saved you. She recognized the trap and gave us time to respond.”

He looked at Linda.

“She was extraordinarily brave.”

The pride in his voice made Linda’s chest ache.

Brenda left with two guards.

Nicholas and Linda remained alone in the hallway.

“You should go home,” he said.

“My home is surrounded by armed criminals.”

“I have secured another apartment for you.”

“You bought me an apartment?”

“I arranged one.”

“This is what you do, isn’t it?”

His brow furrowed.

“You solve everything with money, guards, and commands.”

“They are effective.”

“They are also ways to avoid saying what you feel.”

Nicholas became still.

Linda stepped closer.

“You said you wanted to prove the wedding was not an act.”

“I do.”

“Then tell me why.”

His eyes moved over her face.

“Because when Samuel insulted you, I wanted to destroy him.”

“That is not romantic.”

“I have limited experience.”

Despite herself, she smiled.

Nicholas continued.

“When you laughed during the dance, I forgot that armed men were searching for me.”

His voice roughened.

“When you called yourself pathetic, I felt angrier than when Moretti ordered my death.”

He reached for her but stopped before touching her.

“And when I heard your mother’s voice over the phone, I understood that loving you would give every enemy I have a weapon.”

Linda’s smile disappeared.

“Loving me?”

Nicholas closed his eyes briefly.

“I do not know when it happened.”

“You met me two days ago.”

“I have made life-and-death decisions in less time.”

“I’m not a business decision.”

“No.”

His gaze held hers.

“You are the first thing I have wanted without calculating the cost.”

The confession frightened her because she believed him.

“I don’t know whether I can live in your world.”

“I would not ask you to become part of the syndicate.”

“You cannot separate yourself from it.”

“No.”

“People may come after me again.”

“Yes.”

“You will try to control me.”

Nicholas hesitated.

“Yes.”

Linda folded her arms.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I can promise to try not to.”

“That is not very reassuring.”

“It is more honest than promising I will change overnight.”

He took the two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket.

One was stained with his blood.

“I kept these because I wanted proof that you chose me before you knew my name carried power.”

“I chose a stranger to help me lie.”

“You trusted me with your humiliation.”

Nicholas held the bills out.

“That was more valuable than trust bought by fear.”

Linda did not take them.

“What happens if I walk away?”

“I place guards near you without your knowledge until Moretti is no longer a threat.”

“That sounds like control.”

“It is.”

“Nicholas.”

“I said I would try.”

She almost laughed.

“And emotionally?”

His face changed.

“If you walk away, I do not follow.”

The answer cost him something.

Linda saw it.

“You would let me go?”

“I would rather lose you than turn your love into another transaction.”

For the first time, Linda understood the man beneath the tailored suits and violence.

Nicholas controlled an empire because control had kept him alive. Yet he was willing to surrender it in the one place that terrified him most.

She reached for the money, folded his fingers around it, and pressed his hand against his chest.

“Keep your retainer.”

His breath caught.

“That is not an answer.”

“It is a one-week extension.”

“A week?”

“You lied about your identity, brought gunmen to my sister’s wedding, and got shot rescuing my mother.”

“I also defended you from Samuel.”

“That earns you dinner.”

Nicholas smiled.

It transformed his face.

“Dinner, then.”

“And no armed men at the table.”

“They will remain outside.”

“Nicholas.”

“One across the street.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling when he kissed her forehead.

During the weeks that followed, Nicholas did not attempt to purchase Linda’s affection.

He sent a car when danger required it but asked before entering her apartment. He ate the sourdough she baked even when the first loaf emerged hard enough to stop a bullet. He listened while she described branch inventory problems as though paper supplies mattered as much as port negotiations.

Linda learned his world slowly.

She learned that Nicholas’s father had raised him to believe tenderness was a vulnerability enemies would exploit. She learned that he slept no more than four hours a night and checked every entrance whenever he entered a room.

She also learned that he carried groceries for elderly neighbors in the building he secretly owned and paid the medical expenses of soldiers’ families without allowing them to know the source.

Nicholas learned that Linda sang badly while cooking, cried during animal rescue videos, and had never worn sleeveless clothing because Samuel once told her that her arms embarrassed him.

The first time she wore a sleeveless blue dress to dinner, Nicholas stared until she became self-conscious.

“What?”

“You are beautiful.”

“You always say that.”

“I will continue until you stop looking surprised.”

Their relationship was not easy.

Nicholas became furious when Linda traveled without telling security. Linda became furious when she discovered he had investigated every man she worked with.

“You ran background checks on my employees?”

“One of them has three drunk-driving arrests.”

“He works in the warehouse. He is not asking me to marry him.”

“No one is asking you to marry him.”

“That sounds jealous.”

“It is.”

She crossed her arms.

“You do not own me.”

Nicholas’s anger vanished.

“No.”

He approached carefully.

“I know that.”

“Then act like it.”

He dismissed the extra guards that afternoon.

Not all of them.

But enough to show that he had heard her.

Three months after the wedding, the Moretti conflict ended.

Nicholas did not wage war openly. He dismantled their shipping routes, froze their political donations, and turned their captains against one another until Carmine Moretti requested peace.

The agreement prohibited either organization from approaching Linda or her family.

Nicholas added the condition personally.

Samuel’s punishment came without Linda’s approval.

She discovered it when she saw him leaving Morgan Stanley with a box of belongings.

“What did you do?” she demanded that evening.

Nicholas looked up from the papers on his desk.

“He mishandled several client accounts.”

“You interfered.”

“I informed the appropriate people.”

“You destroyed his career.”

“He humiliated you.”

“That does not make his life yours to destroy.”

Nicholas’s jaw tightened.

“In my world, insults have consequences.”

“I am not your world.”

The words silenced him.

Linda left.

For three days, she ignored his calls.

On the fourth, Nicholas came to her apartment without guards. He wore no suit, only dark jeans and a black sweater. He looked less like a mafia boss and more like a man who had not slept.

“I was wrong,” he said.

Linda stared at him.

“That may be the first time you have said those words.”

“It is.”

“What exactly was wrong?”

“I decided revenge would heal something in you.”

“And?”

“It only satisfied something in me.”

The honesty loosened her anger.

Nicholas removed the two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket.

He had preserved them inside a small glass frame.

“I thought keeping these meant our beginning belonged to me.”

He handed the frame to her.

“But it belongs to both of us.”

Linda ran her fingers across the glass.

“I don’t need you to destroy every person who has hurt me.”

“I know.”

“I need you to stand beside me while I learn they no longer have power.”

Nicholas took her hand.

“I can do that.”

“You will fail sometimes.”

“Frequently.”

“You will apologize.”

He frowned.

“When necessary.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Every time.”

A year after Savannah’s wedding, Linda returned to the Drake Hotel.

This time, she did not enter wearing burgundy armor or holding the arm of a stranger hired to deceive her family.

She wore an emerald gown tailored to celebrate every curve she once tried to hide.

Nicholas waited at the entrance in a black tuxedo.

No assassins entered the ballroom. No gunshots shattered the music.

Only their families and a carefully selected circle of friends were present.

Nicholas had asked Linda to marry him privately, in her kitchen, while a loaf of bread burned in the oven.

He had offered no empire and made no claims of ownership.

He had simply said, “You taught me that love is not something a man can command. Will you choose me anyway?”

Linda had made him wait thirty seconds before saying yes.

Now she walked toward him without hiding her stomach or shrinking her steps.

Brenda sat in the front row, openly crying.

Samuel was not invited.

When Linda reached Nicholas, he held out his hand.

“You look dangerous,” he whispered.

She smiled.

“You told me to.”

The ceremony was small because Linda refused to allow the marriage to become a demonstration of power.

Nicholas agreed, though armed men occupied every floor of the hotel.

During their first dance, he pulled her close in the same ballroom where their lie had begun.

“Do you remember what you asked me to do?” he murmured.

“Pretend to love me.”

“I failed.”

Linda looked up.

“At pretending?”

“I stopped pretending before the first dance ended.”

She rested her head against his chest.

Above the dashboard of the armored Audi waiting outside, two crumpled hundred-dollar bills remained sealed behind glass.

They were not the price of Nicholas Russo’s time.

They were proof of the night Linda Jenkins stopped begging the world to consider her worthy and hired a stranger to stand beside her.

She had believed she was purchasing four hours of protection from humiliation.

Instead, she found a dangerous man willing to protect her life, challenge her fear, surrender control, and learn how to love without turning devotion into possession.

Nicholas had ruled Chicago through loyalty and fear.

But the only title he ever treasured was the one Linda gave him freely.

Hers.

Nicholas fired twice. The gunmen collapsed with shattered knees, and Nicholas dragged Linda toward the armored Audi before the approaching sirens reached the alley. He drove into the underground streets beneath Chicago, his hands steady on the wheel while Linda sat barefoot beside him in her torn burgundy gown. “You’re not in waste management,” she whispered. “I am Nicholas Russo, head of the Chicago syndicate.” The truth made the air disappear from her lungs. “You used me. You saw a desperate fat woman and decided I would make a convenient shield.” Nicholas slammed on the brakes. The car stopped beneath flickering orange lights. He turned toward her. “Never speak about yourself that way in front of me again.” “You don’t know me.” “I know you entered a ballroom filled with people who had taught you to feel ashamed, and you still walked through the door.” Tears filled her eyes. “I barely fit inside your car.” “And I adjusted the seat belt.” “You could have any woman you wanted.” Nicholas took her face gently between his hands. “I live among people who lie with every breath. You are the most honest person I have met in years.” His thumbs wiped away her tears. “You are beautiful, Linda. Not despite your body. Not after you change it. Now.” She searched his expression for cruelty and found none. Nicholas drove her to a fortified penthouse in Fulton Market. Armed men flooded the hallways while an older lieutenant brought Linda tea and clean clothes. After ordering the Morettis to withdraw, Nicholas sat beside her. “What happens now?” she asked. “Do I go home?” He removed the two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and placed them on the table. “I’m keeping these.” “You said I could pay after the wedding.” “They are a retainer.” “For what?” “For the opportunity to prove that tonight was not an act.” Linda’s heart pounded. “I manage a paper supply branch. I bake bread when I’m nervous. I am not made for your world.” “I will handle my world.” He leaned closer. “You only have to decide whether you want to know the man beneath it.” Before she could answer, his lieutenant entered with a phone. “Boss, Moretti knows the woman’s name.” Nicholas rose. Linda saw the dread he tried to hide. “They know where she lives,” the lieutenant continued. “And they are already on their way.”