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“Later.” I check my watch. “Are you hungry? La Volta has a table ready.”

Her face brightens. “I’d love to eat, but I need to shower and get changed first.” She gestures vaguely at her clothes.

“Of course.” I guide her toward the master bathroom. “Take your time.”

While the shower runs, I unpack our suitcases, hanging the clothes in the closet. There are rows of new clothes waiting for her already, garments I’ve bought over the last week. The only thing she won’t find here are panties. There are none.

I select a long black dress with a slit that rises just high enough to make my mouth water, laying it carefully on the bed. Then I pull out a bra and a pair of stilettos I’ve dreamed of seeing her bend over in.

While I wait for her to finish up, I pour a whiskey and light up a cigar, making myself comfortable. For once, I’d like my brain to shut the fuck up, but as time stretches, it becomes clear that ain’t happening.

I feel like a fucking adolescent boy about to ask the girl to prom. Except, I’m not asking Piper anything, I’m telling. And what I’m telling her tonight is everything.

When I hear the sound of the blow dryer, I pour myself another drink and relight the cigar that died in the ashtray. As I puff on it, I smirk, the memory of Halloween coming back to me. Fuck, my toy really is perfect.

Piper finally emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her long, brown hair cascading down her back. She sees the dress, fingers hovering over the fabric like she already knows it’s more than silk.

“You chose for me,” she says, eyebrow arched.

“I did,” I confirm, stepping closer. “Do you object?”

She playfully rolls her eyes and lifts the dress up, holding it against her. “No, it’s beautiful.” Turning, she grins at me. “That’s why I bought it.”

With those words, she finds her toiletries and disappears back into the bathroom. I give her thirty minutes. Long enough for my anticipation to calcify into something sharp. When I finally join her, the jewelry box feels heavier than it should.

“What’s that?” she asks, eyeing it in the mirror as I position myself behind her.

I open it, revealing the gold necklace with a puzzle piece pendant. “The second last one,” I murmur, lifting her hair out of the way so I can fasten it around her neck.

She goes completely still as the gold settles against her collarbone. She doesn’t move, and I can’t fucking breathe. I’ve orchestrated entire regimes with less pressure than this one moment.

“Second last,” she breathes, tracing its outline. “What’s the last piece?”

Ignoring the question, I watch her in the mirror—the reverent way she touches the pendant, the slight part of her lips, the faint flush in her cheeks. She understands the significance, even if she doesn’t yet know the full weight of what I’m giving her. Tonight, she’ll learn exactly who she’s wearing around her neck.

As we drive through Little Italy, her gaze stays locked on the world outside, but I stay locked on her. She has no idea what it does to me, watching her wear the puzzle piece like it’s always belonged there.

When we pull up to La Volta, the driver exits the car and opens the door for us. Piper slides out first, but when she reaches for his outstretched hand, I let out a low, menacing growl. “Don’t even think about it.” I palm her hip. “If you touch him, I’ll have to kill him. And I don’t want that blood anywhere near you.”

She stiffens for a second, but then she huffs with annoyance and exits without touching him.

“Apologies, Lorenzo,” the driver says, looking anywhere but at Piper. “I only meant to help.”

I know he did. “It’s fine,” I state, correcting my suit jacket. “I don’t know how long we’ll be, so stay nearby.”

Piper takes my hand, but she doesn’t move yet. “You did nothing wrong,” she says, looking at the driver. “And ifhegives you any grief about helping me, I want you to tell me. It was a nice gesture.”

When the driver looks at me, I just shrug. “You heard her, feel free to report me if it happens again.” I smirk as we walk away.

La Volta parts for us like the sea parting for its god. Not one glance meets mine, because power isn’t acknowledged—it’s obeyed.

My hand doesn’t leave the small of Piper’s back as the maître d’ guides us through the main dining room toward the private booths in the back. No words need to be exchanged; my presence is enough.

I’ve walked this path a thousand times, but never with her beside me. Never with the weight of my name balanced like a blade between us, waiting to be handed over hilt-first.

“This is…” Piper’s voice trails off as we’re seated in the curved booth at the back, far from prying eyes.

“My family’s,” I finish for her, though I’m sure that wasn’t what she meant to say. “Like everything else in this city worth having.”