Chapter 10 - The Sweetest Revenge and a New EmpireLorenzo stood motionless in the center of the rail yard, his hands raised slowly at shoulder height, his eyes locked on the red laser dot dancing across his chest.
“I have the codes, Vance,” Lorenzo shouted, his deep voice carrying effortlessly over the howling wind. “Let the girl go. Now.”
“Oh, we’ll let her go,” Vance’s voice echoed mockingly from the speakers. “Right after we put a bullet in your brain, Moretti!”
A sniper rifle cocked on the upper gantry.
Before the trigger could be pulled, a sudden, frantic scream echoed from the side railcar.
“Let her go, you bastard!”
Vance’s thugs whirled around in shock. Emerging from the shadows behind them, wielding a heavy iron tire iron with wild, terrifying fury, was Camila.
Before the guard holding Chloe could react, Camila swung the tire iron with every ounce of frustration, fear, and baker’s strength she possessed, catching him square across the knees. The thug let out a shriek of agony, collapsing instantly.
Chloe scrambled away, sobbing hysterically.
“What the—? Get her!” Vance’s second thug lunged for Camila, raising his pistol.
He never reached her.
With the speed of a striking viper, Lorenzo moved. The moment the distraction hit, he drew his Sig Sauer from his holster. Two sharp, deafening cracks split the night air. Both of Vance’s enforcers dropped instantly.
From the surrounding darkness, Vince and a dozen of Lorenzo’s elite security team swarmed the rail yard, neutralizing the sniper on the gantry before he could fire a shot.
Within thirty seconds, the fight was over.
Lorenzo sprinted across the concrete, ignoring his men as they secured the perimeter, and reached Camila just as she dropped the heavy tire iron, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she caught her breath.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her so hard against his chest she could feel the violent pounding of his heart.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Lorenzo shouted, his voice breaking with a raw, terrifying panic she had never heard before. “I told you to stay in the car! You could have been killed!”
“I wasn't going to sit there and watch you die!” Camila yelled back, tears streaming down her face as she clutched the lapels of his coat. “I’m not a helpless doll, Lorenzo! I bake cakes, yes, but I survived twenty-eight years in this city without a mafia boss protecting me!”
Lorenzo stared down at her—at the mud on her shoes, the wildness in her dark eyes, the fierce, unyielding spirit burning inside her.
For a fraction of a second, the terrifying, untouchable crime lord melted away. He pulled her flush against him, burying his face in her hair, breathing her in like a man who had just found air after drowning.
“You are the most stubborn, infuriating, magnificent creature on this earth,” Lorenzo whispered roughly against her ear.
Behind them, Vince walked up, dragging a terrified, cuffed District Attorney Vance by the collar and shoving him onto his knees in the dirt.
Vance looked up at Lorenzo, trembling violently. “Moretti... please... we can make a deal—”
Lorenzo didn't even look down at him. He kept his arm securely wrapped around Camila’s waist, pulling her close against his side as he looked coldly at the fallen politician.
“There are no deals left,” Lorenzo said quietly. “Vince, take him to the harbor warehouse. Let the rats have him.”
As Vince hauled the screaming DA away into the darkness, Lorenzo looked down at Camila. The wind had finally died down, leaving a heavy, profound silence over the Chicago harbor.
“It’s over,” Lorenzo said softly.
Camila looked up at him, her heart no longer racing with fear, but pounding with something entirely different. The terrifying world he lived in was real, dark, and dangerous. But standing beside him, she realized she didn't want safety in an ordinary kitchen anymore. She wanted the fire.
“If I stay with you,” Camila said, her voice steady and clear, “there are going to be no more secrets. No more games.”
Lorenzo’s mouth curved into a slow, dark, absolute smile.
“No secrets, Camila,” he promised, leaning down and capturing her lips in a deep, fierce, consuming kiss that tasted of danger, survival, and absolute victory. “Only us.”
Three months later, the grand opening of Moretti & Williams—a high-end patisserie and private dining club in the Gold Coast—was the most exclusive event in Chicago. No one asked questions about the armed men standing quietly by the velvet ropes. No one dared to question the head pastry chef, whose custom orange-zest and espresso truffles were the talk of the city's elite.
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And when Lorenzo Moretti walked in every evening to taste her latest creation, he never shattered another glass.
Because he already held everything worth holding in the palm of his hand.
