Sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows of the master suite.
I woke up buried in silk sheets that smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne. It took my brain exactly two seconds to remember that I wasn't in my sterile hospital dorm, nor was I in the suffocating, boring house I used to share with Julian.
I was in the inner sanctum of Blackwood Manor. In the Mafia King's bed.
Before I could even sit up, the heavy mahogany doors clicked open.
Darius walked in. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of perfectly tailored black trousers that hung low on his hips. The thick white bandage I had wrapped around his chest yesterday starkly contrasted with his tanned, heavily tattooed skin.
But what caught my attention wasn't his absurdly sculpted physique. It was the solid silver tray he was carrying.
"Good morning, wife," Darius said, his voice a low, morning-rough rumble. He set the tray on the nightstand. The rich aroma of black truffle omelets and freshly brewed espresso filled the room.
I sat up, crossing my arms over the silk robe his maids had provided for me last night. "We signed a mutual protection contract, Darius. I don't recall 'room service from the Boss' being in the clauses."
Darius chuckled, walking over to my side of the bed. He leaned down, placing a large, warm hand on the mattress beside my hip, trapping me in his shadow.
"You saved my life, and you pulled my best lieutenant from the brink of death in under four minutes," Darius murmured, his dark eyes tracing the line of my collarbone. "Making you breakfast is the bare minimum, Elara. In this house, you are the Queen. You don't lift a finger unless you want to."
For three years, I had woken up at 6:00 AM every day to make breakfast for Julian, only for him to complain that the eggs were too dry before rushing off to his mistress.
Looking at the most dangerous man in the city bringing me a gourmet breakfast in bed, I couldn't help but let out a soft, genuine laugh. "I could get used to this."
"I plan to make sure you do," he whispered, his gaze dropping to my lips.
I placed a single finger against his chest, right near the edge of his bandage, stopping him from leaning in any closer. "Sit down. Let me check your sutures. You shouldn't be carrying heavy silver trays with a healing aorta."
Darius smirked but obediently sat on the edge of the bed.
I leaned forward, my face inches from his chest as I carefully peeled back the edge of the bandage to inspect the wound. The proximity was dangerous. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and the steady, powerful thumping of his heart beneath my fingertips.
Suddenly, Darius's large hand came up, gently wrapping around my wrist. He brought my hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles.
"Your bedside manner is highly distracting, Doctor," he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with raw, unfiltered desire.
Before I could respond, a sharp knock interrupted the moment.
"Boss. Madam," a voice called out from behind the door. It was Dante, Darius's head of intelligence. "I apologize for the intrusion, but you need to see this."
Darius sighed, the murderous aura instantly returning to his eyes as his private moment was ruined. "Come in."
Dante entered, keeping his eyes respectfully fixed on the floor, avoiding looking at me in my sleepwear. He handed a tablet to Darius.
"Our surveillance network in the lower districts picked this up an hour ago," Dante reported. "It's Julian Thorne."
I leaned over to look at the screen. The night-vision drone footage showed a dark alleyway. Julian was standing in the pouring rain, clutching a leather briefcase. Opposite him was a man with a serpent tattoo on his neck.
"The Vipera Cartel," Darius growled, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek.
"The audio is faint, but we enhanced it," Dante continued. "The cartel offered Thorne a million dollars to act as bait. They want him to exploit his past relationship with Madam to draw her out of the Manor's security grid."
Darius's hand gripped the tablet so tightly the glass screen cracked. "Dante," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Send a team. I want Julian Thorne brought to the basement. I'm going to skin him alive."
"No."
I placed my hand over Darius's, stopping him.
Darius looked at me, his eyes blazing with protective fury. "He's plotting to hand you over to assassins, Elara. I won't let him breathe another hour."
"Darius, look at me," I said calmly, meeting his raging eyes. "Julian is a coward and an idiot. Killing him now is a waste of a perfectly good pawn."
Darius frowned, his anger pausing as he registered my cold, calculating tone. "What are you thinking, Living Yama?"
A ruthless smile curved my lips. "The Vipera Cartel wants to use a rat to draw me out? Fine. We'll play their game. Let Julian think his pathetic little trap is working."
I looked at the cracked screen, watching my ex-husband clutch the dirty money.
"We won't just kill the rat," I said, my voice dropping to a freezing whisper. "We'll let him lead us straight to the snake's nest. And then, we burn the whole cartel to the ground."
Darius stared at me for a long moment. Then, a slow, dark smile spread across his handsome face. He turned his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.
"God, I am so incredibly obsessed with you," he murmured.