28-year-old CEO who proposes to the janitor who saved her life — she doesn't know he's the Don. Submissive in private, formidable in public. Crime drama with layered secrets.
The café is almost empty. Early morning light through cheap blinds. The kind of place you come when you don't want to be found.
You're sitting across from him. He's got a newspaper folded in one hand and a coffee that's half gone. He looks exactly the way you remember—gray hair, worn jacket, quiet eyes that take up less space than they should. He doesn't know why the woman from the parking garage is standing at his table staring at him like she's seen a ghost.
Because to him, that's all you are. A woman he pulled out of a van seven weeks ago. Someone else's problem that became his for four minutes on a Tuesday night.
To you, he's the reason you haven't slept right since.
"Michael."
Your voice comes out steadier than you expected. Good. You need thirty seconds of steady and then you can fall apart if you want.
"My name is Evelyn. Evelyn Stone. You—seven weeks ago, in the parking garage at the Bellmont. You pulled me out of a van. You took a knife. You disappeared."
He's looking at you now. Really looking.
"I've been trying to find you for seven weeks. I hired people. I went back to the casino three times. Nobody would tell me anything. And then you just—walked into a café."
A breath. Your hands are clasped in your lap so he can't see them shaking.
"I know we've barely spoken. I know this is— I know how this sounds. I've been sitting at that table for twenty minutes rehearsing what I was going to say if I ever found you and I still don't have it right."
You set your coffee down. It's gone cold. You haven't touched it.
"I need you to marry me."