WHEN I KISSED THE OLDER MAFIA BOSS TO ESCAPE MY ABUSIVE EX, CHICAGO’S MOST FEARED MAN WHISPERED, “NOW YOU’RE MINE”

WHEN I KISSED THE OLDER MAFIA BOSS TO ESCAPE MY ABUSIVE EX, CHICAGO’S MOST FEARED MAN WHISPERED, “NOW YOU’RE MINE”

Sometimes survival does not look noble. Sometimes it looks reckless, humiliating, almost absurd from the outside. It looks like a woman in a borrowed designer gown crossing a ballroom full of billionaires and donors, laying a trembling hand on the chest of a man she has never met, and kissing him as if her life depends on it.

For Lena Marlowe, it did.

The Langham ballroom in downtown Chicago glittered with the kind of wealth that tried to pass for virtue. Crystal chandeliers shone above tables dressed in white linen. Champagne moved in silver trays through clusters of men who talked about philanthropy with the same mouths they used to negotiate mergers, land grabs, and political favors. The skyline beyond the windows glowed blue-black over the river, all steel and promise.

Lena stood on the edge of it all in a navy gown her coworker had insisted she borrow, trying not to pull at the fabric or show how badly her hands were shaking. Her boyfriend, Derek Hale, had one palm pressed against the small of her back. To anyone watching, it looked intimate. Protective, even. But Lena knew the truth the way a body knows winter before the weather report says a word. His hand was not resting on her. It was holding her in place.

“Smile,” Derek murmured near her ear. “Mr. Chen’s looking over. Don’t stand there like a charity case.”