Chapter 1 - The Mafia Boss at My Front Door
The most dangerous man I had ever met was standing on my grandmother's front porch holding a diamond ring, and I was hiding behind a kitchen refrigerator wearing one cowboy boot.
That was how my engagement began.
Or at least, how I discovered I might be engaged.
"Daisy Bennett," my cousin Tess whispered, pressing her face against the kitchen window. "If you don't come out here, I swear I'm going to tell him you ran away."
"Tell him I died."
"He can probably have that investigated."
"Then tell him I moved to Canada."
"He has four men standing beside the limousine, Daisy. I don't think Canada is going to help."
I closed my eyes.
Twenty-six years of being a reasonably responsible adult had apparently ended because of one bottle of homemade peach wine.
Outside, Vincent Moretti stood beneath the hanging flower baskets Grandma had insisted we keep watered even during the worst financial months.
He was taller than I remembered.
Broad shoulders filled an immaculate charcoal suit. His dark hair was neatly styled, his jaw clean-shaven except for the faintest shadow, and a silver watch gleamed beneath one cuff.
A black tattoo disappeared beneath his collar.
Everything about him suggested money, power, and the ability to ruin someone's life without raising his voice.
In his left hand, he held a small velvet box.
I considered climbing out the pantry window.
Then Grandma Ruth appeared in the kitchen.
She was seventy-four, barely five feet tall, and had never been intimidated by anybody, including a county judge who once tried to fine her for keeping chickens inside town limits.
"Why is there a funeral procession parked outside my inn?" she demanded.
"It's not a funeral," Tess said.
Grandma peered through the window.
"Well, somebody certainly looks expensive."
"Grandma," I whispered, "please don't open the door."
She looked at my single boot, then at my tangled hair.
"What did you do?"
"I might have proposed marriage."
"To whom?"
Tess pointed outside.
Grandma studied Vincent for several seconds.
Then she smiled.
"Well, at least the girl has taste."
Before I could stop her, she opened the front door.
"Good morning!" she announced. "If you're here about breakfast, we're serving biscuits and gravy."
Vincent Moretti looked at her.
Then he did something unexpected.
He smiled.
"Good morning, ma'am. I'm looking for Daisy."
Grandma folded her arms.
"Depends. Are you a debt collector?"
"No."
"A lawyer?"
"No."
"Married?"
"Absolutely not."
"Good. Come inside."
I wanted the floor to swallow me.
Vincent stepped into the farmhouse kitchen, followed by a large man with a shaved head and an intimidating expression.
Grandma immediately pointed at him.
"Not you. You look like you'd frighten my chickens."
The bodyguard stopped.
Vincent glanced over his shoulder.
"Marco, wait outside."
The man looked horrified.
"Sir—"
"Outside."
Apparently, Grandma Ruth had just accomplished what federal agents probably couldn't.
Vincent entered alone.
His eyes found me immediately.
I was still half-hidden beside the refrigerator.
For one humiliating moment, neither of us spoke.
Then his gaze traveled slowly downward.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
I looked at my feet.
One bare.
One booted.
"I can explain."
"I was hoping you could."
"I don't normally drink."
His mouth twitched.
"That's unfortunate. You were quite entertaining."
Tess made a strangled noise behind me.
I stepped forward.
"Mr. Moretti, about last night—"
"Vincent."
"Fine. Vincent. I'm terribly sorry."
"For what?"
"For proposing marriage to you."
He tilted his head.
"Was that a mistake?"
"Obviously!"
Grandma cleared her throat.
"Don't be rude, Daisy. He brought a ring."
"Grandma!"
Vincent glanced at her with amusement.
"I appreciate your support, Mrs. Bennett."
"Ruth."
"Ruth."
They were becoming friends.
This was a disaster.
I folded my arms.
"Look, I don't remember everything, but I was drunk. Very drunk. The kind of drunk where you think a mechanical bull is a perfectly reasonable transportation option."
"I remember."
My face heated.
"Please tell me I didn't ride one."
"You tried."
"Oh, Lord."
"I stopped you."
"Thank you."
"Then you climbed onto my shoulders."
Tess burst out laughing.
I wanted to throw a biscuit at her.
Vincent's smile faded slightly.
"Actually, Daisy, there's something we need to discuss."
He placed the velvet box on the kitchen table.
My heartbeat stumbled.
"Please don't open that."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not marrying you."
He studied me.
"That's a fairly strong decision considering you don't remember the proposal."
"I remember enough."
"Do you remember what you said before you proposed?"
I hesitated.
"No."
His expression changed.
The amusement disappeared.
"You told me your family was going to lose this inn."
The kitchen became silent.
Grandma's smile vanished.
Vincent continued.
"You said your grandfather built it with his own hands. You said your grandmother had lived here for fifty-two years. And you said you would rather sleep in your truck than watch someone turn the place into another luxury development."
I stared at him.
I remembered saying those things.
Not to Vincent.
To a stranger who had listened while everyone else danced.
My throat tightened.
"That doesn't mean you should buy me a ring."
"I didn't say it did."
He opened the velvet box.
Inside sat an enormous diamond.
It looked like something that belonged in a museum.
I took a step backward.
"Absolutely not."
"It's not an engagement ring."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Not yet."
"That doesn't make this better."
He removed the ring and turned it over.
There was an inscription inside.
Two initials.
R.B.
My breath caught.
"Where did you get that?"
Vincent watched me carefully.
"Do you recognize it?"
I nodded slowly.
"That was my grandfather's ring."
Grandma grabbed the back of a chair.
For the first time in my life, she looked frightened.
My grandfather, Robert Bennett, had died twelve years earlier.
He had owned a distinctive ring with a diamond he'd inherited from his mother. When our family buried him, Grandma told us the ring had been lost.
I'd believed her.
But now Vincent Moretti was standing in our kitchen holding it.
"Where did you find that?" Grandma asked.
Her voice sounded different.
Harder.
Vincent looked directly at her.
"Your husband gave it to my father."
Grandma's face turned white.
"That's impossible."
"No, ma'am. It's not."
He placed the ring on the table.
"My father kept it in a locked safe for twenty years. Three days before he died, he told me that if anything ever happened to the Bennett family, I was to return it."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
Vincent hesitated.
Then he spoke the words that changed everything.
"Because your grandfather saved my father's life."
Grandma sat down.
Tess looked between us.
And somewhere deep inside me, a terrible feeling began to grow.
Vincent reached into his jacket and removed a folded document.
"Unfortunately, Daisy, the inn isn't just in financial trouble."
He placed the paper beside the ring.
"It's being targeted."
I stared at the document.
It was a notice of foreclosure.
My family's name was printed across the top.
The amount owed was more than I had ever seen.
And the signature at the bottom belonged to a man I recognized.
Charles Whitcomb.
Our banker.
Our family friend.
The man who had promised Grandma he would help us keep the inn.
Vincent watched my expression.
"Charles Whitcomb works for someone who wants this property."
"Who?"
"I don't know yet."
"Then why are you here?"
He looked toward the windows.
His bodyguards stood beside the limousine, scanning the road.
"Because last night, when that video went viral, someone realized I was interested in you."
I felt cold.
"And?"
"And this morning, someone offered my organization five million dollars to make sure I never came back here."
Tess gasped.
Grandma whispered something I couldn't hear.
Vincent stepped closer.
His voice softened.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Daisy."
"What does that have to do with the ring?"
He glanced at the inscription.
"Your grandfather left behind something dangerous. My father died before he could tell me what it was."
I looked at the ring.
Then at the man who had brought it.
"Are you telling me someone wants to hurt my family?"
"I'm telling you someone already has."
A vehicle engine sounded outside.
Marco appeared at the kitchen doorway.
"Boss."
Vincent turned.
"What?"
"Black pickup on the county road. Same one from last night."
Vincent's expression hardened.
"License plate?"
"Covered."
Something changed in him.
The charming stranger from the festival disappeared.
In his place stood the man people feared.
"Get the family away from the windows."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Before he could answer, a gunshot shattered the kitchen window.
Glass exploded across Grandma's breakfast table.
Vincent grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the floor.
Another shot cracked through the room.
Tess screamed.
Grandma dropped behind the stove.
Vincent covered my body with his.
For one terrifying second, all I could hear was my own breathing.
Then he leaned close to my ear.
"Stay down, sweetheart."
I stared at the broken window.
The ring lay inches from my hand.
And I finally understood something.
May you like
The dangerous man outside my door hadn't come to ask me to marry him.
He had come to keep me alive.
