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His hit squad just leveled my food truck. So I marched up to the scariest man in Chicago to demand a check. Now I’m trapped in his armored SUV and he’s calling me "mine." Dante Costa is a wall of muscle and lethal hyper-vigilance. I lost my business in his crossfire, and now I’ve lost my freedom too. He doesn't just protect me—he stalks my every breath. We’re trapped on the 14th floor of a dead-zone hotel with killers outside the door. He’s guarding the entrance with a combat knife and a gaze that sets me on fire. I’m supposed to hate him for destroying my life. But the way he handles his weapon makes me wonder how he’d handle me. The hit squad is coming for us. And Dante is ready to paint the walls red to keep me safe. One bed. One mattress. Nowhere to run.