Nine Secretaries Ran From the Mafia Boss in Tears, but the Plus-Size Woman Who Ruined His Desk Found the Betrayal Sleeping Under His Signature

As the board members filed out of the room in hushed, hurried whispers, Sophia remained standing by her chair, letting out a long, shuddering breath. Her hands were slightly damp, and her knees felt like water now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off.

Dante stayed seated at the head of the table, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You didn't tell me you found Arthur’s name on the secondary accounts,” Dante said quietly.

“I didn't want to ruin your breakfast,” Sophia replied, a weak, nervous smile touching her lips as she sat back down. “Besides, I wanted to see if he would incriminate himself by defending Victor so aggressively.”

Dante let out a low, rich chuckle. He stood up and walked over to her side of the table, leaning casually against the edge.

“You have a terrifying mind, Miss Romano.”

“I’m told it’s a useful trait in accounting.”

“It’s a useful trait in survival,” Dante corrected. He looked down at her binder, then up into her eyes. “When I brought you into my office yesterday, I thought you were just another nervous temp who couldn't handle the pace of the executive floor. I was wrong.”

“You were definitely wrong about the coffee part,” Sophia admitted.

Dante smiled—a genuine, unguarded smile that softened the hard, dangerous angles of his face and made him look entirely different. Less like the feared mafia-adjacent boss of Boston, and more like a man who finally had someone he could trust watching his blind spot.

“Dinner,” Dante said suddenly.

Sophia blinked. “Pardon?”

“Tonight. Seven o’clock. There’s a private Italian place in the North End where the owner doesn't ask questions and the osso buco is better than anything you’ll find on a corporate menu. You earned it.”

Sophia’s heart gave an unexpected, traitorous flutter. She pushed her glasses up her nose and raised an eyebrow.