Vincent Rossi placed his signet ring on the table beside Chloe Bennett’s trembling hand.
For several seconds, nobody inside the Silver Spoon understood what they were seeing.
The ring was heavy gold, engraved with the Rossi family crest.
Men in Chicago’s criminal world recognized it immediately.
Vincent almost never removed it.
His father had worn the same ring before him, and within the organization it carried a meaning stronger than a signature.
It meant protection.
It meant authority.
And, when Vincent chose to use it that way, it meant that harming the person carrying it was the same as declaring war on him.
Isabella stared at her son.
‘Vincent.’
His eyes remained on Chloe.
The young waitress was barely conscious.
One hand pressed weakly against her side while Isabella supported her shoulders.
The four shots had left Chloe’s uniform darkening in several places, but she still seemed more concerned about the older woman beside her.
Vincent turned toward the room.
‘This woman saved my mother’s life.’
Nobody answered.
Tommy O’Connor had stopped fighting the guards.
Vincent looked at him next.
Tommy’s face changed.
He understood the ring.
More importantly, he understood what Vincent was about to do.
Vincent spoke loudly enough for every witness to hear.
‘From this moment forward, Chloe Bennett is under my protection.’
One of his men stepped closer.
‘Boss—’
Vincent cut him off with a glance.
Then he said the words that would travel across Chicago before sunrise.
‘Anyone who asks who she is to me can be told she’s my wife.’
Even Isabella looked stunned.
Chloe’s eyelids fluttered.
She had heard him.
Despite everything, a faint crease appeared between her brows.
‘I’m…
what?’
Vincent almost smiled.
Almost.
‘Alive,’ he said.
‘That’s the only part you need to worry about tonight.’
Sirens finally rose beyond the rain.
Paramedics rushed through the door minutes later.
Vincent stepped back while they worked, but he never left the room.
When one medic asked for Chloe’s emergency contact, she whispered that there wasn’t anyone nearby.
Her father was dead.
Her closest relative lived several states away.
Vincent gave the medic his own number.
The medic blinked.
‘Relationship?’
Vincent looked toward Isabella.
His mother gave him a long, unreadable stare.
‘Family,’ he said.
Chloe was taken into surgery shortly after midnight.
Vincent and Isabella occupied a private waiting room at the hospital while two Rossi men stood outside the door.
Vincent’s wet overcoat hung over the back of a chair.
He had changed nothing else.
