Three months later, Vesper was louder than ever.

The damaged wood panel had been replaced.

Elliot Crane had recovered and was cooperating with investigators. Victor Hale and Damian Rusk were facing the consequences of the evidence collected against them.

Marco had become insufferable.

Tessa had become worse.

And Sienna?

Sienna was still working at Vesper.

Technically.

She had accepted Nico’s raise.

Then another promotion.

She now helped oversee staff operations and scheduling across several Valente restaurants, largely because Nico had discovered she could remember employees, customers, preferences, conflicts, and suspicious behavior better than most expensive management systems.

At 9:15 Tuesday evening, she stood before the employee schedule.

A shadow fell across it.

Sienna sighed.

“Nico.”

He stood directly behind her in a fitted black suit, dark shirt open slightly at the collar, the familiar black-and-gray tattoos visible along his neck and hand.

“What?”

“You’re blocking the schedule.”

“I own the schedule.”

She turned.

“We have discussed this.”

“Several times.”

She placed one finger against his chest.

Everyone nearby immediately noticed.

Marco whispered to Tessa, “Here we go.”

Sienna pushed.

“Move.”

Nico didn’t.

Instead, he looked down at her finger.

“You’re doing it again.”

“It worked the first time.”

“The first time ended with half the city looking for you.”

“Correlation isn’t causation.”

Nico caught her hand.

Sienna looked at him.

“What?”

“Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago.”

“So?”

“So I made reservations.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Where?”

“The little Italian place you like.”

“You hate that restaurant.”

“The owner talks too much.”

“The owner is seventy-two.”

“He still talks too much.”

Sienna laughed.

Nico watched her for a moment.

Three months earlier, she would have become uncomfortable beneath that intense stare.

Now she understood it.

Nico noticed everything about people he cared about because trust had once been dangerous for him.

Sienna squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Dinner.”

He looked suspicious.

“No argument?”

“Would you prefer one?”

“No.”

“Then don’t ruin this.”

He smiled.

They walked toward the entrance.

Tessa called after them.

“Sienna!”

Sienna turned.

“What?”

“Tuesday schedule!”

“Oh!”

She hurried back.

Nico stared at the ceiling.

Sienna checked the paper.

Then frowned.

“Nico.”

He looked over.

“What?”

“I’m scheduled next Tuesday.”

“Yes.”

“I requested it off.”

“I know.”

Her mouth fell open.

“You blocked my request?”

Marco immediately walked away.

Tessa began laughing.

Sienna marched toward Nico.

“You have five seconds.”

“I had a reason.”

“Four.”

“It’s your birthday.”

She stopped.

Nico reached inside his coat and produced an envelope.

Sienna opened it.

Two plane tickets.

Italy.

She stared at them.

“You remembered?”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

Her expression softened.

Then she noticed the dates.

“You cleared my whole week?”

“And Tessa’s.”

Tessa screamed from behind the bar.

“WAIT, I’M GOING?”

Sienna laughed.

Nico shook his head.

“That was supposed to be tomorrow’s surprise.”

Tessa ran toward them.

Sienna stepped into Nico’s arms.

He caught her naturally.

No danger.

No shouting.

No mysterious card hidden in her apron.

Just him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His arm settled around her waist.

“You’re welcome.”

Sienna looked up.

“Still blocking my schedule, though.”

Nico sighed.

“You are never letting that go.”

“Never.”

She rose onto her toes and kissed him softly.

From behind them, Marco groaned.

“Three months ago she poked him in front of fourteen people. Now she’s going to Italy.”

Tessa grinned.

“Career development.”

Sienna pulled back, laughing.

Nico looked at her.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

They walked out of Vesper together.

Sienna had entered Nico Valente’s life because she wanted to know whether she was working Tuesday.

Instead, a black card hidden in her apron exposed the betrayal inside his empire, turned an overlooked waitress into the one witness his enemies had never accounted for, and forced the most guarded man in Chicago to trust someone again.

But Sienna never became part of Nico’s world by surrendering who she was.

She remained stubborn.

He remained impossible.

She still challenged his orders.

He still stood in front of the schedule when he wanted her attention.

And occasionally, when Nico became particularly unbearable, Sienna still planted one finger against the tattooed mafia boss’s chest and said the same word that had started everything.

“Move.”

Nico would look down at her hand.

Then into her eyes.

And smile.

THE END.