The Mafia Boss's High School Crush Treated Him in the ER—Then Whispered, Do You Remember Me?

Naomi stared at him, her dark eyes wide with shock and confusion. "Raymond... I just gave you a piece of cloth because your knuckles were bleeding."

"It wasn't just cloth to me, Naomi," Raymond murmured, his thumb gently tracing the pulse point on her wrist. "In my world, nobody gives you anything without expecting blood in return. You gave it to me because you felt sorry for the boy getting kicked in the alley."

"I didn't feel sorry for you," Naomi corrected softly, her tone brave despite her trembling hands. "I respected you. You didn't cry. You didn't run. You just took it, stood back up, and picked up your books."

A faint, dark smile touched Raymond’s lips.

"And now?" he asked, leaning his head slightly closer to hers. "What do you see now, Naomi?"

Naomi looked down at his broad, scarred chest, at the heavy tattoos of dragon crests along his shoulder, and at the sheer, terrifying power radiating from his frame.

"I see a man who built a wall around himself so high that no one can reach him," she whispered.

"Except you," Raymond growled softly.

Before she could pull her hand back, the heavy bedroom door clicked open without a knock.

Marcus stepped into the room, holding an encrypted glass tablet. His face was set in a grim, dangerous expression.

"Boss," Marcus said, ignoring Naomi's presence. "We have a situation. Don Genovese just called an emergency meeting of the Commission at the Drake Hotel for nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

Raymond’s eyes turned instantly cold, the tender warmth from seconds ago evaporating like steam on ice. "Did he claim responsibility for the dock ambush?"

"He didn't need to," Marcus said flatly. "He claims you're unfit to lead because you were injured tonight. He's calling for a vote to seize our shipping lines in River North."