She Slapped The Mafia Boss Before Three Hundred Criminals—He Smirked And Ordered, “Do It Again,” But Three Days Later He Showed Her Something Terrifying

The twilight had settled over the desert, turning the sky into a deep canopy of indigo and violet.

The reception on the estate terrace was in full swing. Guests were dancing, champagne glasses were clinking, and the delicious scent of gourmet wood-fired cuisine filled the warm evening breeze.

Penelope stood near the stone balustrade, looking out over the illuminated gardens. She had taken off her veil, letting her dark hair cascade down her back, her champagne dress glowing under the string lights strung across the terrace.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a broad, warm chest.

Dominic rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her rose perfume.

"Are you happy, my queen?" he asked softly, his cheek pressing against hers.

"I am completely, entirely happy," Penelope said, leaning back into his solid embrace, covering his hands with hers.

Across the lawn, she saw her mother sitting comfortably in her wheelchair beside Arthur and Eleanor Vance, laughing as Clara—the young waitress from the Bellagio, who was now the lead supervisor at Lux Catering—showed them pictures on her phone.

"We built something good here, Dominic," Penelope whispered, looking back at her husband. "Not an empire of fear. An empire of people who care about each other."

"You built it," Dominic corrected, turning her around in his arms so she was facing him. "I just provided the steel. You provided the heart."

He looked down at her face—at the strong jaw that had held firm against mobsters, the sharp dark eyes that saw right through his defenses, and the soft, beautiful lips that had reshaped his entire world.

"Do you remember what you said to me three days after you slapped me?" Dominic asked, a playful, dark spark entering his grey eyes.

"Which part?" she laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The part where I called you a masochist, or the part where I told you I wasn't sitting down for your dramatic speech?"

"The part where you said you don't repeat yourself for men who don't listen the first time," Dominic murmured, bringing his hands up to frame her face.

"And have you been listening, Mr. Rossi?"