“Send the Nobody Sister—He’ll Send Her Back!” They Laughed—But the Mafia Boss Had Asked for Her All

The offer hung in the quiet air of the study, heavy and impossible.

"You want me to steal from my own family," Emma stated, trying to find a shred of moral footing in a room dominated by a mafia boss.

"I want you to recover what was stolen from me," Lorenzo corrected smoothly, walking to a crystal decanter and pouring two glasses of amber liquid. "And in the process, you will legally liquidate their remaining assets to cover the interest they owe me for the insult. When the dust settles, Charles, Vanessa, and Andrew will be penniless."

He walked back and handed her a glass. His fingers brushed against hers. His skin was incredibly warm.

"And what happens to me?" Emma asked, taking the glass but not drinking. "When the money is back in your accounts, do I go to prison for corporate fraud?"

Lorenzo laughed—a rich, dark sound that echoed in the cavernous room.

"You think I would let the federal government touch my chief financial officer?" Lorenzo asked, raising his glass in a mock toast.

"Chief financial officer?" Emma choked out.

"That is my offer, Emma," Lorenzo said, his gaze turning deadly serious. "Work for me. Use my resources, my servers, and my men to dismantle your father's empire. Retrieve my eighteen million. In exchange, I grant you absolute immunity from the fallout, a salary triple what your father supposedly pays you, and a permanent, highly protected seat at my table."

Emma stared at the amber liquid in her glass. She thought about the cold penthouse. She thought about Vanessa laughing as she suggested Emma be sent to the wolves. She thought about fourteen years of invisible, unappreciated labor, holding together a family that would gladly watch her drown to save themselves.

"What if I refuse?" Emma asked quietly, testing the boundaries of her cage.

Lorenzo’s expression didn't harden, but the dangerous predator beneath the expensive suit became glaringly visible.

"If you refuse, I will put you in a car and send you back to Manhattan tonight," Lorenzo said softly. "But tomorrow morning, I will unleash my men on your family. The penthouse will be painted in their blood. And you will have to live with the knowledge that you could have saved them by simply draining their bank accounts instead."

It wasn't a choice. It was an execution order wrapped in a corporate contract.

Emma looked up at the terrifying, magnetic man standing in front of her. She took a slow, deliberate sip of the bourbon. It burned a fiery path down her throat, settling in her stomach like a sudden, fierce spark of courage.

"I’m going to need a dual-monitor setup," Emma said evenly. "And unrestricted access to your offshore routing codes."