Don’t You Dare Talk to Me Like That Again,” the Nurse With Glasses Said—Then the Mafia Boss Smiled

At six in the evening on the night of the gala, the master bedroom of Callum’s penthouse smelled of gardenias and polished mahogany.

A box of deep emerald velvet had arrived two hours earlier from an exclusive boutique downtown. Inside lay a floor-length evening gown of midnight-blue silk, high-necked, long-sleeved, and cut with tailored precision to fit her frame like liquid smoke. Along with it came a delicate diamond pendant and matching drop earrings.

Audrey stood in front of the full-length mirror. She had let her dark hair down, styling it into loose, glossy waves that fell over her bare shoulders. She wore delicate makeup that accented her high cheekbones and made her amber eyes glow under the recessed lighting.

She held her wire-rimmed glasses in her hand, hesitating.

A soft knock sounded at the door. “Audrey?”

“Come in,” she said quietly.

Callum opened the door and stopped dead.

He wore a custom black tuxedo, hand-tailored, with a crisp white shirt and a silk bow tie. He looked every inch the ruthless heir to a criminal dynasty, yet as his eyes swept over Audrey, the predatory hardness in his demeanor evaporated completely.

He swallowed visibly. “You look… stunning.”

Audrey felt a blush creep into her cheeks, but she masked it with a small smirk, holding up her glasses. “I was deciding whether to wear contacts. Without these, the room blurs around the edges.”

Callum walked slowly toward her, his footsteps silent on the deep-pile carpet. He took the glasses from her hand and set them gently on the vanity dresser behind her.

“Keep them off for tonight,” he whispered, his voice dark and velvet. “That way, if you get scared, you can just pretend the monsters in the room aren't real.”

“I’m not afraid of your monsters, Callum,” she said softly, looking up into his face. His features were slightly blurred, but his eyes were unmistakable—intense, burning, and completely focused on her.

“I know you’re not,” he said. He reached behind his neck, pulling out a slim silver chain with a heavy obsidian signet ring hanging from it. He lifted it over her head, letting the cold stone rest against the silk of her dress, right above her heart.

Audrey looked down at it. “What is this?”

“My mother’s signet,” Callum said, his thumb brushing against her collarbone as he adjusted the chain. The touch sent shivers racing down her spine. “Every made man in that ballroom knows what this ring means. As long as it sits against your chest, anyone who looks at you with malice answers directly to me.”

Audrey lifted her hand, her fingers closing over the cold ring, then trailing up to touch the lapel of his tuxedo. “You don’t have to protect me from everything, you know.”

“I want to,” he murmured. His hand rose, his knuckles gently tracing the line of her jawline, brushing away a rogue strand of dark hair. “For five years, my life has been blood, contracts, and betrayals. I forgot that there were people who cared about something other than power. Then you put your hand on my chest and told me to get out of your way.”

Audrey’s breath hitched. Callum was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips.

“Did it work?” she whispered, her heart thumping wildly against her ribs.

“I’ve been trying to get closer to you ever since,” Callum answered.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, a tender, reverent contact that contrasted completely with the violence of his world. Audrey let out a soft sigh, her hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him down to deepen the embrace. For a suspended moment, the ticking clock, the hospital alarms, and the gathering storm disappeared, leaving only the rhythm of their colliding worlds.

When Callum finally pulled back, his eyes were smoky with restraint. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy.

“Stay close to me tonight,” he whispered.