Waitress Shielded a Little Girl From Gunfire — Then Woke Up Married to a Mafia Boss

The triumph of the dinner party was short-lived.

Three nights later, the security alarms at the perimeter gates began wailing with a shrill, piercing shriek that jolted Emma awake at 3:00 a.m.

The bed beside her was empty. Dominic was already gone.

Emma threw off the duvet, grabbed a heavy wool robe, and hurried out into the hallway. Downstairs, the muffled sound of shouting and heavy boots echoed through the marble foyer.

She ran down the stairs just as Marco Greco—Dominic’s chief enforcer—came rushing through the front double doors, his clothes disheveled and blood smeared across his forearm.

“Marco! What’s happening?” Emma demanded, intercepting him near the study.

“Perimeter breach, Mrs. Volkov,” Marco panted, checking the magazine of his submachine gun. “A strike team tried to scale the north wall. We neutralized three of them, but one got away.”

“Who sent them?”

“We thought Marcus was dead,” Marco said darkly. “And he was. But Marcus had a younger brother—Julian. Word reached us tonight that Julian took over the remnants of Marcus’s crew and swore a blood oath to finish what his brother started.”

Emma’s blood ran cold. “He’s coming for Sophia.”

“He’s coming for all of us,” Dominic’s voice cut through the foyer like a whip.

Dominic walked out of the study. He was wearing tactical gear over a black combat shirt, a holster strapped across his chest, and an assault rifle held easily in his scarred hands. He looked like the general of a dark, merciless army.

When his eyes landed on Emma, a flash of pure panic crossed his face before he masked it with ice.

“Get back upstairs, Emma,” Dominic ordered, stepping toward her. “Take Sophia, go to the panic room behind the master closet, and lock the door.”

“No,” Emma said, standing her ground. “I’m not hiding in a hole while my family is under attack.”

“This isn't a debate!” Dominic roared, closing the distance between them. He grabbed her shoulders, his grip tight and desperate. “Julian is a butcher. If he gets past these gates, he won't negotiate. He wants to destroy everything I love. I need you safe, Emma! That is the only way I can fight!”

Emma looked up into his eyes, seeing the raw, agonizing terror of a man who was finally vulnerable because he had someone to lose.

She placed her hands over his on her shoulders, her touch steadying him.

“I’m not going to hide, Dominic,” she said softly, fiercely. “I took a bullet for your niece once. You think I’m going to cower in a closet now? Give me a weapon.”

Dominic stared at her, stunned by her unyielding courage. For a long, agonizing second, the war inside him raged—the protective mafia boss versus the husband of a warrior.

Then, slowly, a grim, admiring smile touched his lips.

“Marco,” Dominic barked without breaking eye contact with Emma. “Get Mrs. Volkov a Glock nine-millimeter and a tactical vest. Then secure the east corridor.”