""I THREATENED MY DRIVER WITH A 1-STAR REVIEW... THEN GAVE HIM THE ADDRESS TO HIS OWN MAFIA HEADQUARTERS"

A year after the night of the storm, the Drake Hotel’s grand entrance was bathed in the warm, golden glow of holiday chandeliers. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the crisp November air, settling like powdered sugar on the black umbrellas of Chicago’s elite arriving for the annual Children’s Hospital Charity Gala.

At the curb, a brand-new, gleaming black Cadillac Escalade sat idling quietly beneath the marquee.

The rear passenger door swung open, and Beatrice Gallagher stepped inside. She wore an emerald-green velvet evening gown that hugged her curves like a second skin, diamond studs glinting at her ears, and a soft white fur stole draped across her bare shoulders. She set her gold-beaded evening clutch on the seat beside her, leaned back into the heated leather, and closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

Up front, the driver sat motionless, his silhouette broad and commanding against the city lights.

""Excuse me, driver,"" Bee said, her voice dripping with playful, exaggerated snobbery. ""The cabin temperature is rather brisk. If you don't adjust the climate control immediately, I will be forced to leave a scathing one-star review on the company portal.""

Roman Cavali turned around in his seat, a breathtaking grin lighting up his rugged face. He was dressed in a classic black tuxedo, the top button of his collar rakishly unfastened, looking every bit the untouchable king of Chicago.

""Is that a threat, Miss Gallagher?"" Roman asked, his baritone dipping into that intoxicating, familiar growl.

""A formal audit finding,"" she countered, leaning forward over the center console, her eyes dancing with wicked amusement. ""Your service record is under review.""

Roman reached out, catching her chin between his fingers, tilting her head up as he leaned in and pressed a slow, deep kiss to her lips that left her heart hammering against her ribs. When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with an endless, unyielding devotion that made her throat tighten with emotion.

He reached into his tuxedo jacket, pulled out a small black velvet box, and set it on the console between them.

Bee froze. The playful banter vanished, replaced by a sudden, breathtaking wonder. ""Roman...""

Roman opened the box. Inside, resting on white satin, was a flawless, emerald-cut diamond ring, flanked by two delicate platinum bands engraved with tiny ivy vines.

""You audited my books, Beatrice,"" Roman said softly, his voice trembling with a rare, raw vulnerability that no other soul on earth had ever been allowed to see. ""You legitimized my family. You saved my life, and then you gave it meaning. I don't want to just be your partner in business. I want to spend the rest of my days ensuring you never have to face a storm alone.""

He took her trembling hand, sliding the ring onto her fourth finger. It fit with absolute, divine perfection.

""Will you marry me, Bee?""

Tears of pure, radiant joy spilled over Bee’s lashes, catching the dashboard light. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, kissing his jaw, his cheek, and his smiling lips.

""Yes,"" she whispered, laughing through her tears as she held him tight. ""A thousand times, yes.""

Roman pulled her into the front seat, holding her against his heart as the snow fell gently against the glass, shielding them in a quiet, golden world of their own.