The Elevator Doors Closed Before Her Ex Reached Her—Then the Mafia Boss Asked, “Who’s Chasing You?”

Madame Simone, after consuming two glasses of cooking brandy to steady her nerves, had tactfully retreated to the back kitchen, leaving Aurora alone with the most dangerous man in the city.

Matteo sat on one of the small, wrought-iron bistro chairs near the window. The delicate chair looked comically fragile beneath his broad frame, yet he occupied it with the casual grace of an emperor on a throne.

He had placed a thick, silver fountain pen and an embossed leather folder on the marble tabletop between them.

“Sit,” Matteo said softly.

Aurora pulled out the opposite chair and sat down, keeping her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “Why are you doing this, Mr. De Luca?”

“Matteo,” he corrected smoothly.

“Matteo,” she conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don't know me. Yesterday I was just a girl who crashed into you in an elevator. Today you are threatening city councilmen and buying commercial real estate on my behalf. Men like you don't do favors out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Matteo watched her, his fingers lightly tapping against the leather folder. “You have a healthy instinct for survival. That is rare in people who have spent years in abusive relationships. Usually, they are so desperate for a savior that they run blindly toward the first hand offered to them.”

Aurora’s eyes flared with anger. “I am not looking for a savior. I saved myself six months ago when I walked out of Braden’s apartment with fifty dollars in my pocket. I don't want your money, and I don't want your war.”

“Good,” Matteo said, completely unfazed by her outburst. “Because I am not offering charity, and I am not offering salvation. I am offering a transaction.”

He opened the leather folder, revealing a thick, professionally drafted document.

“Next week, I am hosting an international summit at my private estate outside the city,” Matteo explained. “Over forty dignitaries, business leaders, and... associates will be attending from Europe, South America, and Asia. These are men who possess everything money can buy. They are suspicious, paranoid, and impossible to impress.”

He turned the contract toward her.

“I need an artisan who can cater the final banquet. Someone whose work cannot be purchased through standard hospitality channels. Your pastries are extraordinary, Aurora. They have soul. And more importantly, you have no ties to my enemies.”

Aurora glanced down at the contract. Her eyes widened at the figures printed on the page.

*Fifty thousand dollars for four days of service.*

It was more money than she earned in an entire year at the bakery. It was enough to buy out Simone’s lease outright, purchase modern convection ovens, and secure her independence forever.

“Fifty thousand?” she stammered.

“Plus full indemnification,” Matteo added. “As long as you are under contract with me, you and Madame Simone are under the protection of the De Luca family. Braden Vance will not be allowed within five miles of you. If he violates that order, my men will deal with him permanently.”

Aurora felt the seductive pull of the offer. It was freedom, wrapped in an ironclad legal document.

And yet...

“What’s the catch?” she asked, looking directly into his dark eyes. “There is always a price with men like you.”

Matteo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The space between them contracted, and once again, the intoxicating scent of cedarwood and dark tobacco enveloped her senses.

“The catch,” Matteo said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble, “is that while you are at my estate, you belong to my circle. You will be seen with me. People will assume you are more than my pastry chef. My rivals will look at you to see if you are a vulnerability they can exploit.”

Aurora’s throat tightened. “You want me to act as bait?”

“Never,” Matteo said, his jaw tightening with absolute conviction. “I do not use women as shields. You will be guarded day and night by my most trusted men. But you will have to live in my world for four days. You will see things that cannot be unseen. You will witness the reality of how power is maintained in this city.”

He slid the silver pen across the table until it touched her fingertips.

“You have two choices, Aurora. You can reject the contract, stay in this bakery, and spend the next five years looking over your shoulder, waiting for Braden or his family to find a way to destroy you through legal loopholes.”

He paused, letting the harsh truth sink in.

“Or you can step into my world for four days. You can take the money that guarantees your freedom forever. And you can let me show Braden Vance what happens when a scavenger tries to steal from a predator.”

Aurora looked down at the pen.

Her fingers were trembling. Everything in her rational mind screamed that she was stepping into a cage. But as she thought of Braden’s sneering face, the threat to Simone’s livelihood, and the endless, exhausting terror of running, she realized something profound.

She had spent two years in Braden's cage, where she was slowly being suffocated.

Matteo was offering her a cage of velvet and steel—one that came with weapons of her own.

Aurora picked up the pen.

With a firm, decisive stroke, she signed her name at the bottom of the page.

Matteo watched her sign, a slow, dark smile spreading across his handsome face. He took the pen from her fingers, his skin brushing hers with an electric, lingering heat.