Emma took the glass, studying his face. “Is it over?”

“Carlo Vitiello is dead,” Luca stated simply, taking a sip of his wine. “He suffered a massive heart attack while trying to flee to his private airstrip in Teterboro. Very tragic. The remaining family members have surrendered their territories to my capos and fled to Italy.”

Emma took a slow sip of the heavy, dark wine. She felt no pity for the man who had tried to kill them, only a profound sense of finality.

Luca set his glass on the mantle and walked over to her chair. He knelt on one knee, bringing himself down to her eye level. The submissive gesture from a man who bowed to absolutely no one sent a shockwave through her chest.

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, black velvet box.

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She looked from the box to Luca’s dark, unreadable eyes.

“Alessia accused you of stealing a diamond,” Luca said softly, his deep voice vibrating in the quiet room. “She lied to make you look like a thief. To make you look small.”

He flipped the velvet box open.

Resting on a bed of white silk was not a diamond bracelet, but a ring. It was an antique, featuring a massive, blood-red ruby surrounded by flawless, teardrop diamonds, set in heavy platinum. It was a breathtaking, terrifying piece of jewelry—a crown forged for a queen of the underworld.

“This belonged to my grandmother. She was the only woman my grandfather ever feared,” Luca said, his eyes never leaving Emma’s. “I do not want a treaty. I do not want a political alliance. I want the woman who looked the devil in the eye and refused to blink. I want the woman I tore a city apart to protect.”

He reached out, taking her left hand in his warm, calloused grip.

“Marry me, Emma,” Luca said, and for the first time, it wasn’t a command. It was a plea. “Stand beside me, and I will ensure that no one in this world ever dares to look down on you again.”

Emma looked at the ring, then up at the man who had burned his own empire to the ground just to keep her safe. She had started this week as a maid in a torn uniform. She was ending it as the most powerful woman in the city.

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t look away.

“Put it on me, Luca,” she whispered.

Luca’s ruthless face broke into a devastating, triumphant smile. He slid the heavy ruby ring onto her finger, the cold platinum a stark contrast to his burning touch. He stood up, pulling her to her feet, and kissed her—a fierce, claiming kiss that tasted of dark wine, victory, and the promise of a beautiful, terrifying reign.

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