The Mafia Boss Was About to Propose to a Heiress, Until Four Identical Boys Walked Into the Restroom With His Own Face

The private conservatory was breathtaking, a temple of glass and iron filled with imported white orchids, crystal chandeliers, and three hundred guests representing the political and criminal aristocracy of the East Coast.

At the center of the terrace stood Sloane Barrett, draped in a custom emerald silk gown that accentuated her ice-blonde elegance. Her father, Harrison Barrett, was pacing near the champagne pyramid, his cigar billowing thick gray smoke into the floral-scented air.

"Where the hell is he, Marco?" Barrett bellowed, grabbing my lieutenant by the lapel. "The New York syndicate reps are here! The Mayor is here! If Dominic thinks he can embarrass my family on our merger night, I'll turn every dock in South Boston into a warzone!"

"Watch your hands, Barrett," Marco said smoothly, swatting the older man's arm away. "The Boss never misses an appointment without reason."

Suddenly, the massive double doors of the conservatory groaned open.

The low hum of laughter and string quartet music died instantly.

I walked into the ballroom alone. My tie was loosened. The top button of my collar was undone. My hair was disheveled by the chill Boston wind. Behind me, my personal detail formed an impenetrable perimeter, sealing the exits.

Sloane smiled, though her lips were tight with irritated pride. She glided across the polished stone floor, her diamond bracelets clinking. "Dominic, darling. You're forty minutes late. My father was convinced you got cold feet. Now come, the photographer from the Globe has been waiting by the fountain."

She reached out to take my hand, expecting the velvet box. Expecting the five-carat emerald-cut diamond that would sign away the rest of my life to business spreadsheets and loveless nights.

I pulled my hand back.

Sloane’s smile evaporated. "Dominic?"

"There isn't going to be an engagement, Sloane," I said.

My voice wasn't loud, but in the dead silence of the hall, it rang out like a gunshot. Wine glasses paused mid-air. Harrison Barrett dropped his cigar, his face instantly turning a violent shade of crimson.

"What did you just say?" Harrison roared, storming forward with four armed bodyguards shadowing his heels. "You bastard! We have contracts signed! The territorial division of the harbor relies on this union!"

"Contracts can be burned," I answered coldly, turning to look Harrison dead in the eye. "And I don't barter my life for shipping lanes."

"Is this a joke?" Sloane spat, her aristocratic mask crumbling into raw humiliation. Tears of rage welled in her eyes. "You spent six months courting me! We spent months planning this! Who do you think you are to humiliate me in front of everyone who matters in this town?"

"I apologize for the public venue," I said honestly. "You deserve a man who loves you, Sloane. I am not that man. And more importantly... I already have a family."

A collective gasp swept through the room. Harrison took a threatening step forward, reaching toward his jacket. "You have what? You don't have anyone! You've been a solitary ghost since your father kicked that little nobody waitress out of town!"

The air in the room dropped ten degrees.

I took two deliberate steps, closing the distance between myself and Harrison until the barrel of my gaze pinned him where he stood. "Speak about Clara again, Barrett, and you won't live to see dawn over your precious docks."

"Dominic," Marco murmured softly in my earpiece. "Car one is secure at the safehouse. But Barrett’s men are signaling the outer perimeter. We need to move now."

Harrison smirked, a venomous, desperate look in his eyes. "You think you can walk out of here? You think you can spit in my face and leave? I know where you were an hour ago, Dominic. My spotters saw you outside that French bistro in Back Bay. They saw the woman. They saw the four little runts you loaded into your armored SUV."

Every muscle in my body turned to steel. My blood turned to liquid fire.

"If so much as a stray wind touches them," I said, my voice dropping to a deathly whisper, "I will dismantle your empire brick by brick and feed your remains to the fish in the harbor."

Without waiting for his answer, I pulled the black velvet box from my pocket, flipped it onto a silver serving tray nearby, and turned my back on the high-society world I had spent a lifetime serving.