The Mafia Leader's Advocate

Emily Windsor's POV

The day I walked in on Jacob cheating, I was carrying a carefully wrapped gift for our third anniversary.

Clothes—his and hers—were scattered across the floor like confetti. On the bed, two naked bodies were tangled together in a way that made my stomach turn.

Jacob Johnson scrambled up when he saw me, fumbling for his shirt. The woman beside him shrank back like a frightened deer, cowering behind his frame.

I recognized her—Julie Perez, Jacob's secretary. Fresh out of college, she was all doe eyes and practiced innocence.

In that moment, my entire world shattered. My fingers started trembling uncontrollably.

"Why?" I forced the word out through clenched teeth, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No reason. I don't love you anymore. I love Julie." Jacob's tone was almost clinical in its coldness.

"I never understood what love was until I met her. She showed me what it means to feel alive, to feel that spark." He paused, his expression softening as he glanced back at her. "I know this is hard for you, but love doesn't play by the rules."

The way Jacob looked at Julie—eyes shining, completely smitten—reminded me of a teenager experiencing his first crush. Every word that came out of his mouth was a blade, cutting me to ribbons. I stood there, numb, listening to him wax poetic about another woman while I bled out emotionally.

My brain shut down for several seconds. When it rebooted, all I could do was laugh bitterly.

What were our three years together, then? A dress rehearsal?

My chest felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to it, scraping away layer after layer. I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.

I was Emily Windsor, one of New York's top corporate attorneys. I'd won impossible cases and demolished opponents in the courtroom. But in matters of the heart? I was a complete failure.

"Emily, we're adults. I have the right to pursue happiness and real love. Of course, I'll make it worth your while. Name your terms—anything you want."

Jacob sounded so damn righteous, not a shred of guilt or shame in his voice.

As if all I had to do was nod, and he would be free to chase his happily-ever-after, consequences be damned.

After three years with Jacob, I knew his personality. Once he had made up his mind, there was no changing it.

So this wasn't a discussion. It was a notification.

I closed my eyes, my fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. The pain didn't even register.

When my heartbeat finally slowed from its frantic pace to something resembling normal, I opened my eyes.

"Fine. I hope you'll be very happy together." My voice came out eerily calm.

Jacob looked genuinely surprised. He had expected tears. Begging. Maybe some plate-throwing for good measure. After all, I had given him everything for three years, holding nothing back.

Three years ago, he was kidnapped by a rival firm. I emptied my entire savings account to pay the ransom and showed up to the exchange myself. When the kidnappers decided to kill us anyway, I threw myself in front of the gun. The bullet grazed my shoulder, leaving a scar that would never fully heal.

When the police finally arrived, Jacob cradled my unconscious body, sobbing and swearing he would marry me.

I'd thought I'd earned his love with my sacrifice. Turns out I'd just bought myself a three-year lease.

When I left the apartment, it started to drizzle.

I pulled out my phone and called my best friend Jade Smith, suggesting we meet at an upscale speakeasy in Manhattan.

By the time Jade arrived, I was already pleasantly buzzed, one hand propping up my chin as I stared into my whiskey, watching the ice cubes slowly melt.

When Jade asked what happened, I finally snapped back to reality.

All at once, the humiliation, the heartbreak and the rage came flooding back.

I dropped my carefully constructed mask of composure and broke down in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Jade rubbed my back, and after I managed to choke out the whole story between hiccups and tears, she spoke fiercely, "That bastard's not worth your tears! Look around this bar—there are plenty of hot guys here. Any one of them is better than Jacob. Pick one, any one. My treat!"

I lifted my head and took in my surroundings. We were at an exclusive ladies' club where impeccably dressed men catered to wealthy women. The lighting was dim, the air thick with cigar smoke and expensive cologne.

Jade had a point. If Jacob could pursue his freedom, why couldn't I?

My gaze drifted aimlessly across the crowd until it landed on a man sitting alone at the far end of the bar.

He was isolated in the corner, his black suit blending into the shadows, completely at odds with the revelry around him.

A cigar smoldered between his fingers, smoke curling upward and obscuring his sharp features.

Even in profile, his face was striking—almost aggressively handsome. A strong nose cast shadows across his cheekbones, and his jawline was so defined it could cut glass.

Though I couldn't see him clearly, there was something magnetic about him. Dark. Dangerous. Intoxicating.

I met plenty of male escorts at business events, but never one who looked like that.

"Who caught your eye?" Jade followed my gaze, then gasped. "Please tell me you're not looking at him. Do you have any idea who that is?"

"Does it matter?" A reckless smile tugged at my lips as I stood and made my way toward him, swaying slightly.

The man seemed to sense my approach. He slowly turned his head.

When his eyes met mine, my heart actually skipped a beat.

Ice blue. Not like the sky or the ocean, but like glaciers—ancient, unforgiving and absolutely frigid.

Being pinned by that gaze felt like having my soul extracted through my pupils.

I'll admit, for a split second, I almost turned back.

But the alcohol buzzing through my system and the crushing weight of Jacob's betrayal pushed me forward.

"Are you available?" I leaned in close, the dim lighting highlighting every curve of my body.

The man glanced at me, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Miss Windsor, you recovered from your heartbreak rather quickly, haven't you?"

When he smiled, it was like watching an iceberg calve—beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.

I froze. "You know who I am?"

The thought that he witnessed my earlier breakdown made my skin crawl with embarrassment.

"Of course, Miss Windsor. You are rather well-known in Manhattan. I recognized you the moment you walked in." He took a slow sip of his whiskey.

Apparently escorts these days did their homework. That actually made things easier—no need for pretense.

I leaned forward, crossing the distance between us, and settled onto his lap in one smooth motion. "Sounds like you've been planning this."

"You—" His deep voice carried a note of surprise.

I could feel his entire body tense beneath me. Through the fabric of his suit pants, his thigh muscles were rock-hard. His cologne mingled with cigar smoke, wrapping around me like a possessive embrace.

Abandoning my usual professional reserve, I trailed one finger down his neck, feeling his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, before flattening my palm against his chest.

Even through his shirt, I could feel the steady, powerful thud of his heartbeat.

He stared at me with those ice-blue eyes, emotions swirling in their depths like a storm beneath a frozen lake.

When he did not push me away, I grew bolder. My hand slid lower, down his side, until my fingers brushed against something cold and metallic at his waist.

I paused, then laughed, tracing its outline with my fingertip. "Well, well. Packing heat for work, are we?"

"Miss Windsor, I take it you never saw one before?" His tone was mocking.

"Oh, I saw plenty. Just never yours."

I leaned down until my lips nearly brushed his ear, my voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "What do you say we go somewhere private, and you can show me exactly what you're working with?"

As my fingers grazed something embossed on his chest—some kind of badge or insignia—the world suddenly tilted.

He stood abruptly, sweeping me up in his arms and carrying me through the crowd toward the back exit.

Every head in the bar turned to watch, faces twisted with shock and fear.

But not a single person tried to stop him.