Ruby Morrison thought the worst part of her night would be singing to an empty bar. She was wrong. When she rejected the wrong man’s advances, he came back with friends to teach her a lesson. They dragged her into an alley, broke her ankle, and left her bleeding in the dark. She begged the shadow approaching her not to hurt her more. But Lorenzo Santoro wasn’t there to hurt her.
The mafia boss who owned the bar where she sang was there to destroy everyone who touched her. The blue note was nearly empty at 1:45 a.m. Ruby Morrison stood on the small stage, microphone in hand, singing Billy Holiday to the five people still nursing drinks at the bar.
Her voice wrapped around the melody like smoke, rich and textured, filling the space with something that felt like longing. She’d been singing here for 8 months, five nights a week. Same small stage, same scratched microphone. Same dream that felt further away every time she counted her tips, and realized it wasn’t enough for rent and music school both. The last customer left at 2.
Ruby collected her $23 in tips, grabbed her coat, and walked out into the cold November night. Lower east side at 2:00 a.m. Empty streets, distant sirens, the smell of garbage, and something cooking from a late night food cart. She pulled her coat tighter. Her apartment was six blocks away. She’d walked this route hundreds of times, never had a problem. Tonight was different.
She heard footsteps behind her, fast, multiple people. Ruby’s hand went to her phone in her pocket. There she is. Male voice familiar. Thought you could embarrass me and get away with it. Ruby turned. Three men. The one in front she recognized immediately. Tyler Kaine, 28, trust fund kid, politician’s son. He’d hit on her 3 weeks ago at the bar. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Got aggressive. She told him loudly that she wasn’t interested and to leave her alone. He’d left humiliated in front of his friends. She should have known he’d be back. I don’t want trouble. Ruby kept her voice steady, phone in her hand now. Just let me go home. You made me look like an idiot. Tyler moved closer. His breath smelled like whiskey and entitlement.
in front of everyone. You think you’re too good for me? I think I have the right to say no. Ruby started backing up. The other two men spread out, blocking her path. Wrong answer. Tyler’s hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, twisted. Ruby screamed, yanked free, started running, made it half a block before they caught her.
Hands grabbed her coat, pulled her backward. She fought, kicked, scratched. One of them hit her across the face hard enough her vision blurred. They dragged her into an alley, dark, narrow, dumpsters and broken bottles, and no one to hear her scream. Please. Ruby’s voice broke. Please don’t do this. Should have thought of that before you rejected me.
Tyler’s face was twisted with rage. Before you made me look small. One of his friends grabbed her legs. The other held her arms. Tyler raised his foot, brought it down on her ankle. The crack was audible. So was Ruby’s scream. Pain exploded white hot through her leg. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
Just pain and terror and the certainty that this was going to get worse. They didn’t stop with her ankle. fists, kicks. Tyler’s voice saying things she’d spend months trying to forget. When they finally stopped, Ruby was curled on the ground, bleeding, broken, barely conscious. That’s what happens when you think you’re too good for people like me.
Tyler spat on her. Come on, let’s go. Their footsteps faded. Ruby lay there, couldn’t move her ankle. Every breath hurt, blood in her mouth, phone smashed somewhere during the fight. She was going to die here in an alley alone because she’d said no to the wrong man. Then she heard footsteps, different ones, slower, heavier.
Ruby’s vision was blurred. She saw a shadow, tall, broad, coming toward her. Please. The word came out broken. Please don’t hurt me. I can’t walk. The shadow stopped. Crouched down. A man, features coming into focus. Dark hair, strong jaw, eyes that widened in recognition. Ruby. His voice was deep, rough. Jesus Christ, what happened? She knew him, knew his face.

Lorenzo Santoro, the man who owned the Blue Note. She’d seen him in the audience sometimes watching her sing. never spoke to her, just watched. They three men. They Ruby couldn’t form complete sentences, pain and shock stealing her words. Lorenzo’s expression went from concern to something colder, darker. Who did this? Tyler Cain and two friends. Please, I need help.
My ankle, it’s broken. I’m going to pick you up now. Lorenzo’s voice was gentler. It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry. He slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. Ruby screamed when he moved her broken ankle. The sound echoed off the alley walls. Then she was against his chest being carried. She should have been scared. Should have questioned why he was here.
But all she felt was relief. Someone had found her. Someone was helping. Lorenzo Santoro was 6’3 of controlled power. Ruby had noticed that from the stage, the way people moved aside when he entered a room, the expensive suits, the way he carried himself like someone used to being obeyed. She’d thought he was handsome in a dangerous way.
Dark hair that was starting to silver at the temples, sharp features, eyes that were too intense when they watched her sing. Now those eyes were focused on her face, jaw tight with what looked like barely contained rage. I’ve got you. He was walking fast, carrying her like she weighed nothing. There’s a hospital three blocks from here, private.
The doctor there owes me favors. He’ll take care of you. I can’t afford, Ruby started. Not asking you to pay. Lorenzo’s tone left no room for argument. This is on me. Why? The question came out small, confused. Because you sing at my bar. Lorenzo looked down at her. Something fierce in his expression. And no one touches my people. No one.
Ruby’s vision was starting to fade. Shock and pain pulling her under. The last thing she remembered was Lorenzo’s voice. low and dangerous and promising violence. I’m going to find them, Ruby. All three of them. And they’re going to wish they’d never touched you. Then darkness.
Ruby woke to white walls and the smell of antiseptic. Hospital, private room, soft bed. Her ankle was wrapped and elevated. An IV in her arm. Every part of her body hurt. You’re awake. Lorenzo’s voice. She turned her head. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, still in his suit, no tie now, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired.

How long had she been out? What time is it? Ruby’s voice was scratchy. 6 a.m. You’ve been unconscious for 4 hours. Lorenzo stood, moved closer to the bed. The doctor set your ankle. Clean break. You’ll need a cast for 6 weeks minimum. You also have three cracked ribs, bruised kidney, facial contusions. He gave you something for the pain. Ruby tried to sit up. Her ribs screamed in protest.
Lorenzo’s hand was immediately on her shoulder, gentle but firm. Don’t move yet. Give the medication time to work. She looked at him. Really looked. His knuckles were raw, fresh blood on them. He’d left her here and gone after them already. You found them. It wasn’t a question. Two of them. Tyler Kane and one friend. The third ran.
I’m still looking. Lorenzo’s voice was flat. Emotionless. Like he was discussing the weather and not whatever he’d done to her attackers. Ruby should have felt something. Horror. Maybe fear. But all she felt was a savage satisfaction. They’d broken her ankle, left her bleeding in an alley. Whatever Lorenzo had done to them, they’d earned it. Thank you.
She meant it for finding me for this. She gestured at the hospital room. Don’t thank me yet. Lorenzo sat back down, leaned forward, elbows on his knees. I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Everything. The doctor said you were attacked by three men. I need names, descriptions, anything you can remember. Ruby told him all of it.
Tyler hitting on her 3 weeks ago. Her rejection tonight. The alley. What they’d said, what they’d done. Lorenzo’s expression didn’t change, but his hands. His hands curled into fists, knuckles going white. When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment. Tyler Kaine, Lorenzo’s voice was soft, dangerous. Councilman Kane’s son, the one who thinks his father’s position makes him untouchable.
His father, he has connections. Ruby felt fear creep in. If you hurt Tyler, he’ll come after you.” Lorenzo smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. Let him try. I own half this city. His father’s a politician. I’m the man politicians come to when they need problems solved. Tyler Kane just became a problem.
And I solve problems permanently. I don’t understand. Ruby shifted, trying to get comfortable. Everything hurt. Why are you doing this? You barely know me. You sing at my bar. Lorenzo said it like that. Explained everything. That makes you mine to protect and I protect what’s mine. The possessiveness in his voice should have scared her, should have sent up red flags.
But Ruby was too tired, too hurt. And there was something comforting about the certainty in his tone, like he’d decided she was under his protection. And that was that. No negotiation. I need to go home. Ruby looked at the IV, the cast on her ankle. I have rent due, work. I can’t afford to be here.
You’re not going anywhere for at least 3 days. Lorenzo stood. Doctor’s orders. After that, you’re staying with me. What? No, I can’t. I don’t even know you. You know I own the blue note. You know I found you bleeding in an alley and brought you here. You know I’m going to make sure Tyler Kane and his friends never touch another woman. Lorenzo’s voice was matter of fact.
What else do you need to know? Why you care? Ruby met his eyes. Dark green, intense. You don’t know me. I’m just a singer at your bar. Why do you care this much? Lorenzo was quiet. Then he pulled up his sleeve, showed her a tattoo on his forearm, a name, Giana, and dates. Born 1988, almost died 2017. My sister, his voice was rough.
Eight years ago, she was attacked by men like Tyler Kaine. Men who thought they could take what they wanted. She survived barely. I wasn’t there to protect her. I’ve regretted that every day since. He looked at Ruby. I was three blocks away when I heard you scream. I’m not making that mistake twice. Ruby felt something crack in her chest.
this man, this dangerous man who owned jazz bars and had politicians in his pocket. He was saving her because he’d failed to save his sister, because he’d heard her scream and couldn’t walk away. She believed him completely. Okay. Her voice was small. Okay, I’ll stay with you after the hospital. Good. Lorenzo pulled his sleeve down, sat back in the chair. Get some rest.
I’ll be here. You don’t have to stay. Ruby’s eyes were already closing, the pain medication pulling her under. Yes. Lorenzo’s voice was the last thing she heard. I do. 3 days in the hospital. Lorenzo was there every time Ruby woke up.
sometimes working on his laptop, sometimes just sitting, watching her, making sure she had everything she needed. The doctor cleared her on day four. Ankle in a cast, crutches, prescription for pain medication, instructions to stay off her feet as much as possible. Lorenzo’s car was waiting, black SUV, tinted windows, driver in the front who didn’t speak. Lorenzo helped her into the back seat, careful with her ankle, settled beside her.
“Where are we going?” Ruby hadn’t asked before. Hadn’t wanted to know while she was trapped in a hospital bed. “My place. Tribeca penthouse.” Lorenzo was watching her face. “You’ll have your own room, bathroom, whatever you need. I have a housekeeper who comes daily. She’ll help you with anything I can’t.
I can’t afford this. Ruby felt panic rising. I don’t have money to pay you back. I’m not asking you to pay me back. Lorenzo’s tone was firm. This isn’t alone. It’s protection. You were attacked because you rejected some entitled [ __ ] He might come back. His father definitely will when he finds out what I did to his son. You’re not safe at your apartment.
You’re safe with me. What did you do to Tyler? Ruby had been afraid to ask. Lorenzo looked at her. Expression unreadable. I made sure he’ll never use his hands to hurt a woman again. That’s all you need to know. Ruby swallowed. She didn’t press. Didn’t want details. Just nodded. The penthouse was insane. Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Modern furniture.
Expensive art on the walls. A grand piano in the corner. Two bedrooms. Three bathrooms. Kitchen that looked like it belonged in a restaurant. Lorenzo showed her to the guest room. King bed. Soft sheets. View of downtown. Bathroom attached with a tub big enough for two people. I’ll let you rest. Lorenzo set her bag down.
The hospital had given her clothes, sweats, and a t-shirt. Everything she’d been wearing that night was evidence or destroyed. I’m working from home today. If you need anything, just call. I’ll be in my office. He left. Ruby stood there or tried to. Her ankle throbbed. She made it to the bed, sat down carefully, looked around at the space that was nicer than anywhere she’d ever lived. This man, Lorenzo Santoro, mafia.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was. The expensive clothes, the way people treated him, the casual way he’d talked about making Tyler Kain pay. This was a man who lived outside the law. And he’d saved her, taken her to his home, was protecting her like she mattered.
Ruby didn’t understand it, but she was too tired to question it, too hurt to do anything but accept the help being offered. She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes, and for the first time in 4 days, felt something like safe. The first week was a blur of pain medication and sleep. Lorenzo was attentive. He’d work in his office, but check on her every few hours, bring meals, make sure she took her medication. help her to the bathroom when she needed it.
Never inappropriate, always careful, Ruby noticed things about him. The way he moved, precise, controlled, like someone who’d been trained to fight, the scars on his hands, old ones, the tattoos she could see when he rolled up his sleeves, Italian words, names, dates. She noticed the way he looked at her. Intense, like she was something precious he needed to protect.
It should have scared her. Should have felt like too much. But after what she’d been through, having someone care that intensely felt like a lifeline. Week two, Ruby started feeling more like herself. The pain was manageable. She could move around on crutches. Started spending time in the living room instead of just her bedroom. Lorenzo worked from home most days, his office door open.
She could hear him on calls, his voice switching between English and Italian, commanding, cold when he needed to be. She learned not to interrupt during those calls. But when he wasn’t working, he was different. He’d make her tea, ask about her day, tell her stories about the bar, about the musicians who’d played there, about his mother who’d been a jazz singer before she died. “That’s why you keep the blue note,” Ruby realized. “Because of her.
She loved that bar.” Lorenzo was sitting across from her. “Evening, city lights coming on outside. Sang there for 20 years. Met my father there. I couldn’t let it close when the owner wanted to sell. Too many memories. Do you play? Ruby gestured at the piano. Used to not anymore. Lorenzo’s expression shuddered.
Not since she died. I’m sorry. Ruby meant it. Losing a parent. I can’t imagine. Your parents? Lorenzo asked. Dad left when I was 10. Mom died when I was 22. cancer. Ruby looked out at the city. It was just us for a long time. When she died, I was alone. Completely alone. Not anymore. Lorenzo said it quietly, firmly. You’re not alone now. Ruby looked at him.
This man who’d appeared in an alley when she’d needed someone most. Who’d brought her to his home? Who looked at her like she mattered. Why me? She had to ask again. needed to understand. Really, why do you care so much? Lorenzo was quiet for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
I heard you sing two months before the attack. You were singing Ella Fitzgerald, Someone to Watch Over Me, and something in your voice. It reminded me of my mother, the way she used to sound, like there was longing and hope mixed together. I’ve been coming to the bar to hear you ever since. Ruby’s breath caught. You’ve been listening to me for 2 months.
Yes. No shame in his voice. Just honesty. I know it sounds obsessive maybe, but your voice, it does something to me. Makes me remember what it felt like to believe in something good. And when I found you in that alley, when I saw what they’d done to you, his hands curled into fists, I knew I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe, to make sure you could sing again. Ruby should have been scared, should have seen red flags.
A man who’d been watching her, who decided she was his to protect, but all she felt was seen. For the first time in years, someone saw her. Really saw her and cared. I want to sing again. Her voice was small. I’m scared I won’t be able to what happened. That it broke something in me. It didn’t.
Lorenzo’s voice was absolute. You’re strong, Ruby. Stronger than you think. You’ll sing again. And when you do, I’ll be there front row like always. Something shifted between them in that moment. Understanding, connection. The beginning of something neither of them could name yet.
3 weeks after the attack, Ruby’s ribs had healed enough she could move without pain. Her ankle was still in a cast, but the doctor said it was healing well. She was restless, tired of being cooped up, wanted to do something. Anything. Lorenzo noticed. Of course he did. He noticed everything about her. There’s a rooftop. He said it over dinner. He’d had food delivered. Italian. Real Italian from a restaurant in Little Italy. Private.
Just for this building. Good view. We could go up there if you want. Get some air. Ruby looked at him at the way he was trying to be casual about it, like he hadn’t been planning this, thinking about ways to make her feel better. I’d like that. She smiled. First real smile in weeks. Yeah, let’s go. The rooftop was beautiful. string lights, comfortable seating, plants in pots, and the view.
All of Manhattan spread out below them, buildings lit up against the night sky. Lorenzo had brought a blanket, helped her get comfortable on one of the couches, sat beside her. Close, but not too close, careful not to crowd her. “Thank you,” Ruby said it quietly. for all of this, for everything. You don’t have to thank me.
Lorenzo was looking at the city, profile sharp against the lights. I’m doing what anyone should do, but not everyone would. Ruby turned toward him. Most people would have called 911 and left. You stayed. You’ve been staying. I told you. Lorenzo looked at her now, eyes intense. You’re mine to protect. I don’t abandon my people.
Is that all I am? Ruby didn’t know where the question came from. Didn’t know why it mattered. Your people? Lorenzo’s expression changed. Something heated flickering in his eyes. No, you’re not just one of my people. Then what am I? I don’t know yet. His voice was rough, honest. But you’re something, something more. Ruby felt her breath catch.
They were close. Too close. She could see the silver in his hair, the scar through his eyebrow, the way his eyes had gone dark with something that looked like want. Lorenzo. She didn’t know what she was asking for. Tell me to stop. He leaned closer slowly, giving her time to pull away.
Tell me this is too soon, too much, and I’ll stop. Ruby didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she closed the distance, pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft, careful. His hand came up to cup her face, gentle, like she was something fragile he was afraid to break. Ruby made a sound. Need. want. Three weeks of fear and pain and this man making her feel safe. It poured into the kiss.
Lorenzo pulled back, breathing hard. Ruby, don’t stop. She pulled him back, kissed him harder. Please, I need I need to feel something that isn’t fear. Not like this. Lorenzo’s voice was strained. Not when you’re vulnerable. Not when you’re still healing. I’m not made of glass. Ruby’s hands were in his hair.
I know what I want, and I want you. Lorenzo groaned, kissed her again, deeper, his tongue sliding against hers. Ruby gasped, arched into him, her hands pulling at his shirt, needing to feel skin, to feel alive, to feel something other than broken. Then pain shot through her ribs. She gasped, pulled back. Lorenzo was immediately careful again, hands gentle. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? No.
My ribs just They’re still tender. Ruby was breathing hard, frustrated. I hate this. I hate feeling fragile. You’re not fragile. Lorenzo pressed his forehead to hers. You’re healing. There’s a difference. And when you’re healed, when you’re ready, when this isn’t about needing to feel something other than pain, then we’ll revisit this.
Promise? Ruby didn’t know why she needed to hear it. Promise? Lorenzo kissed her forehead. I’m not going anywhere, Ruby. I’ll be here when you’re ready. However long that takes. They stayed on the rooftop for another hour, not kissing, just sitting close, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest, listening to the city, feeling safe, feeling something like hope for the first time since the attack.
6 weeks after the attack, the cast came off. Ruby’s ankle was weak. She needed physical therapy, but she could walk carefully, slowly, but walk. Lorenzo took her shopping for clothes, shoes, things to replace what she’d lost. He didn’t ask what she wanted, just told her to pick anything. Everything. His credit card had no limit, apparently. Ruby tried to be reasonable.
Pick affordable things. Lorenzo noticed. Stop doing that. He said it while she was debating between two dresses. Stop trying to pick the cheapest option. Get what you actually want. I can’t afford to pay you back for expensive things. Ruby set down the dress she’d been looking at. The one that cost $300.
Then it’s good I’m not asking you to pay me back. Lorenzo picked up the expensive dress, handed it to her. Get this one. It’ll look beautiful on you. Lorenzo. Ruby. He mimicked her tone. Let me do this, please. You lost everything that night. Your clothes, your sense of safety. The least I can do is replace your wardrobe. Ruby looked at him. At the sincerity in his eyes.
He genuinely wanted to do this. Wanted to take care of her. And maybe maybe it was okay to let him to accept help to not have to do everything alone. Okay. She took the dress, but I’m also getting the cheaper one for every day. Lorenzo smiled. Deal. They had lunch after at a small Italian restaurant. Lorenzo knew the owner.
Everyone knew Lorenzo. Ruby was starting to understand what that meant. the way people treated him, respectful, a little afraid. He was someone important, someone powerful, and he’d chosen to use that power to protect her. “When can I sing again?” Ruby asked over pasta. “My ankles healed enough. I need to work. Need to do something.
” “Whenever you’re ready.” Lorenzo was watching her. Your position at the Blue Note is waiting. I told them you’re on medical leave. paid. You haven’t lost anything. You didn’t have to do that. Ruby felt overwhelmed again. I don’t even. You’ve done so much. I’ll keep doing it.
Lorenzo reached across the table, took her hand. As long as you let me. As long as you’re here. Why does it feel like you mean more than just physically here? Ruby looked at their hands, his scarred knuckles against her smaller hand. Because I do mean more than that. Lorenzo’s thumb brushed across her knuckles. I want you here, Ruby. In my home, in my life, for as long as you’ll stay. I don’t understand what we are.
Ruby met his eyes. What this is. I don’t either, Lorenzo admitted. But I know I haven’t felt this way about anyone ever. I know I’d burn down the city if someone tried to hurt you again. I know. I want to wake up and know you’re safe, that you’re mine. Does it need to be more complicated than that? Ruby thought about it, about this man who’d saved her, who’d made her attackers pay, who looked at her like she was something precious, who wanted her safe and happy and his. No.
She squeezed his hand. It doesn’t need to be more complicated. Good. Lorenzo smiled. that rare, genuine smile that transformed his whole face. Then let’s keep it simple. You’re mine. I’m yours. We figure out the rest as we go. I’m yours. Ruby tested the words. They felt right. Yeah, I think I am.
8 weeks after the attack, Ruby returned to the blue note. First night back. She was nervous. Terrified actually. What if she couldn’t sing? What if the fear had stolen her voice? Lorenzo was there, front row, like he’d promised he’d closed the bar to everyone but his people. Gave her a safe space to try to see if she could still do this.
Ruby stood on the stage, hands shaking, ankles still a little weak. But when the music started, when she opened her mouth, the voice was still there. Stronger than before, maybe. like surviving had given it new depth. She sang at a James at last. And she sang it to Lorenzo, to the man sitting in the front row who’d saved her, who’d made her feel safe again, who’d given her time to heal.
When the song ended, there was silence, then applause. Lorenzo stood, walked to the stage, pulled her into his arms right there in front of everyone. You’re extraordinary. He said it against her hair. Do you know that? You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Ruby buried her face in his chest, let herself cry. Relief, joy, the knowledge that she’d survived, that she could still sing, that she wasn’t broken.
Thank you. She said it over and over. Thank you for giving me this, for believing I could do it. always. Lorenzo pulled back, looked at her face. I’ll always believe in you. They went back to his place after the penthouse that had become home over the past 2 months.
Ruby was still living there, still in the guest room, but the lines were blurring. She’d eat breakfast with him, watch movies curled up on his couch, fall asleep during late night conversations, and wake up with his jacket draped over her like a blanket. Tonight felt different, charged. Ruby could feel it in the air between them. I should let you rest. Lorenzo said it, but he wasn’t moving toward his room.
He was standing close, too close, looking at her like he was holding himself back. What if I don’t want to rest? Ruby stepped closer, hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating fast. What if I want something else? Ruby warning in his voice. You just performed for the first time. You’re probably exhausted. I’m not exhausted. She looked up at him. I’m alive.
For the first time in two months, I feel alive. And I want I want to feel more than alive. I want to feel everything. Lorenzo’s control snapped. She could see it in his eyes. The way his hands came up to frame her face. The way he kissed her hard, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long.
Ruby kissed him back just as desperately, hands pulling at his shirt, kneading skin. needing contact, needing him. They barely made it to his room, clothes coming off between kisses, his hands on her body, careful of her ankle, of her ribs that were still a little tender. But everywhere else, everywhere else he touched like he was memorizing her.
“Are you sure?” he asked it when they were on his bed, her underneath him, both of them breathing hard. We can stop. We can wait. I’m sure. Ruby pulled him down. I want this. Want you. Please, Lorenzo. He made love to her slowly, carefully, taking his time, making sure she felt everything, pleasure, and safety and connection.
His hands gentle even when she begged for more. his voice in her ear telling her she was beautiful, strong his. After they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing patterns on her back. Both of them quiet, processing what had just shifted between them. “I love you,” Lorenzo said it quietly. “I know it’s too soon.
I know we’ve only known each other 2 months, but I love you. I think I’ve loved you since I found you in that alley. Since you begged me not to hurt you, and I realized I’d do anything to keep you safe. Ruby lifted her head, looked at him at this dangerous man who’d been nothing but gentle with her, who’d saved her, protected her, made her feel things she’d never felt before. I love you, too.
She said it and meant it. You saved me. In every way, a person can be saved. Lorenzo kissed her soft and sweet and full of promise. I’ll keep saving you every day for as long as you’ll let me forever. Then, Ruby smiled because I’m not going anywhere. They fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, safe, loved, healing.
Ruby woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee. Lorenzo’s side of the bed was empty, but still warm. She stretched carefully. Her body felt different, claimed, loved. There were marks on her skin from his mouth, evidence of the night they’d shared. She found one of his shirts, put it on. It fell to mid thigh. Smelled like him.
Cologne and something distinctly masculine. She patted barefoot to the kitchen. Lorenzo was there making breakfast, shirtless, gray sweatpants low on his hips. His back was to her. She could see the tattoos, the scars, the evidence of a violent life. But his hands were gentle as he flipped pancakes. Morning. Ruby leaned against the doorframe, watching him.
He turned, eyes traveling over her, taking in his shirt on her body, her bare legs, messy hair. Something heated flickered in his expression. Morning. His voice was rough. How do you feel? Good. Ruby moved closer. really good, actually. Lorenzo set down the spatula, pulled her against him, hands sliding under the shirt to rest on her bare hips. No regrets? None.
Ruby looked up at him. You? My only regret is that I waited so long. He kissed her slow and deep, tasting like coffee. I love you in my shirt. I love being in your shirt. Ruby smiled against his mouth. in your bed, in your life. Good. Lorenzo’s hands tightened on her hips because I’m never letting you go.
You understand that? What happened last night? That was me claiming you completely. I know. Ruby wasn’t scared. Just certain. I claimed you, too. You’re mine, Lorenzo. Just as much as I’m yours. Yeah. He rested his forehead against hers. I am completely. They ate breakfast together. His shirt still on her, him still shirtless, comfortable, domestic, like they’d been doing this for years instead of just starting.
3 months after the attack, Ruby’s life looked completely different. She was still singing at the Blue Note, five nights a week. But Lorenzo had done something. used his connections, got her an audition at a bigger venue, a jazz club in Midtown that paid actual money, where music producers came to find new talent.
She got the job, started singing there two nights a week, her voice getting noticed, people talking about the girl who sang like the legends, Ruby Morrison. Remember that name? She was still living with Lorenzo. had her own room technically, but she hadn’t slept there in weeks. Hadn’t wanted to. Wanted to be in his bed, in his arms, waking up to his face every morning.
They were together officially. He’d introduced her to his family. His sister, Giana, who’d hugged Ruby and cried, said she was glad Lorenzo had someone. His cousins who were in the business made it clear Ruby was family now. Protected. Ruby met them all. Learned the rules. Don’t ask about business.
Don’t repeat anything you overhear. Don’t leave the house without telling Lorenzo where you’re going. Not because he was controlling. Because there were people who’d use her to get to him. She accepted it. All of it. Because loving Lorenzo meant accepting his world. the danger, the violence, the things he did that she didn’t ask about. He kept that part of his life separate from her.
But she knew knew he was capable of terrible things when necessary, and she loved him anyway. 4 months after the attack, Lorenzo took her to dinner, the same Italian restaurant where they’d had lunch. The owner seated them at a private table. Candles, wine, the best food on the menu. What’s the occasion? Ruby asked.
She was wearing the expensive dress, the one Lorenzo had insisted she buy. It fit perfectly, made her feel beautiful. Do I need an occasion to take you to dinner? Lorenzo was watching her. That intense look that still made her breath catch. No, but you look nervous. Ruby reached across the table, took his hand. What’s wrong? Nothing’s wrong.
Lorenzo turned her hand over, looked at her palm. I’m just trying to figure out how to say something. Say what? Lorenzo looked up at her. Expression serious. I want you to move in officially, not as a guest, as mine. I want your things in my closet. Your voice filling my home. I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. Ruby’s breath caught.
Lorenzo, I know it’s fast. He was talking faster now, nervous. It was adorable. I know we’ve only known each other 4 months, but 4 months with you feels like more than years with anyone else. You’re it for me, Ruby, the person I want to build a life with. So, move in officially. Be mine completely. I already am yours. Ruby was smiling, crying a little.
I’ve been yours since you found me in that alley. Since you decided I was worth saving. You were always worth saving. Lorenzo stood, came around the table, pulled her to her feet, kissed her like they weren’t in a restaurant with people watching. So, is that a yes? Yes. Ruby kissed him back. Yes, I’ll move in. Yes, I’m yours. Yes to everything.
The owner of the restaurant brought champagne on the house. Congratulations were offered. Ruby realized Lorenzo had planned this, had told people, was making a statement. This woman is mine. Treat her accordingly. She should have felt overwhelmed, should have worried about moving too fast, but all she felt was happy, safe, loved.
6 months after the attack, Ruby was performing at a venue in Manhattan. Real venue, 500 seats, soldout show. Her first headlining performance, producers in the audience, record labels. This was it. The break she’d been dreaming of for years. She was terrified. Lorenzo was backstage with her, helping her get ready, his hands gentle as he fixed her hair.
The expensive dress he’d bought her for this emerald green made her eyes look brighter, her skin glow. You’re going to be amazing. He said it with absolute certainty. They’re going to love you. What if I mess up? Ruby was shaking. What if I forget the words? What if my voice cracks? Then you’ll recover and keep going. Lorenzo turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders.
You’ve survived worse than a performance, Ruby. You’ve survived things that would break most people. This This is just singing, something you were born to do. I’m scared. She admitted it quietly. I know. Lorenzo pulled her close, but I’ll be right there. front row like always. And if you need me, just look at me. I’ll be there. The show was perfect.
Ruby sang 10 songs, mix of jazz standards and a few originals she’d been working on. Her voice filled the venue, strong, clear, emotional. The audience was silent when she sang, hanging on every note. Lorenzo was in the front row like he’d promised, watching her with that look.
Pride, love, possession, like she was his and he wanted everyone to know it. After the show, the offers came. Three record labels wanted to sign her. Producers wanted to work with her. Her name was being talked about. Ruby Morrison, the jazz singer with the voice that could break your heart. Lorenzo took her out to celebrate.
Late night diner, just them, away from the crowds and the offers and the attention. You did it. He was looking at her like she’d hung the moon. Everything you dreamed of. It’s happening because of you. Ruby squeezed his hand. You made this possible. The auditions, the connections, everything. I just opened doors.
Lorenzo shook his head. You walked through them. Your talent did this. Your voice. I just made sure people heard it. Still, Ruby looked at him. At this man who changed her entire life. Thank you for everything, for saving me, for believing in me, for loving me. Always. Lorenzo lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles. I’ll always love you.
They went home to the penthouse that was officially theirs now. Ruby’s things mixed with his. Her dresses in his closet. Her voice filling the spaces. Her presence making the place feel like home instead of just somewhere he lived. Lorenzo had something planned. Ruby could tell. He was nervous again. That telltale tension in his shoulders.
What’s wrong? She asked when they were inside. Coats off, shoes kicked aside. Nothing’s wrong. Lorenzo took her hand, led her to the living room. The piano, the one he never played. Sit. Ruby sat on the couch, confused. Lorenzo sat at the piano, hands hovering over the keys. I haven’t played since my mother died. His voice was quiet. Couldn’t. It hurt too much.
But I want to play for you because you brought music back into my life. Because you make me want to try things I thought were lost forever. He started playing slowly at first. Rusty, but muscle memory took over. The song filled the room. Ruby recognized it. The way You Look Tonight, one of her mother’s favorites.
She’d sung it at her mother’s funeral. Lorenzo played the whole thing. When he finished, he turned to look at her. Ruby was crying, silent tears streaming down her face. “How did you know?” she asked. “About that song. You mentioned once that your mother loved it, that you sang it at her funeral.” Lorenzo stood, came to sit beside her.
I wanted to give you something that wasn’t about money, something personal, something that showed you. You’ve changed me, Ruby. Made me better. Made me remember who I used to be before this life hardened me. Ruby threw her arms around him, buried her face in his neck. I love you. I love you so much. I love you, too. Lorenzo held her tight.
and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that.” He pulled back, reached into his pocket, pulled out a small box. Ruby’s breath stopped. “I know we’ve only known each other 6 months.” Lorenzo opened the box. A ring, simple, beautiful diamond set in platinum. I know people will say it’s too fast, but I don’t care what people say.
I care about you, about us, about building a life together. He got down on one knee right there in their living room, held up the ring. Ruby Morrison, you survived hell and came out singing. You’re the strongest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Will you marry me? Will you let me spend my life making sure you never stop singing? Ruby couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel.
Love, joy, the certainty that this was right, this man, this life, this future. Yes. She pulled him up, kissed him hard. Yes. Yes. A thousand times. Yes. Lorenzo slipped the ring on her finger, kissed her like they had all the time in the world, like she was the most precious thing he’d ever held. Like she was everything. You’re mine now. He said it against her lips. Officially, completely mine.
I’ve been yours. Ruby smiled through tears. Since the moment you found me in that alley, since you decided I was worth saving, I’ve been yours. And I’ve been yours. Lorenzo kissed her again. Since the moment I heard you sing, since I realized your voice was what I’d been searching for without knowing it.
They made love that night. Slow and tender and full of promise. Two people who’d found each other in the darkest moment and built something beautiful from it. 18 months after the attack, Ruby Morrison married Lorenzo Santoro. Small ceremony, his family, the people from the Blue Note, the owner of the restaurant where they’d had their first real date, the doctor who’d treated her that first night.
Ruby wore white simple dress, her hair loose, carrying flowers. She walked down the aisle in the small chapel to jazz music. Lorenzo waiting at the altar, suit, no tie, looking at her like she was the only person in the world. They said their vows, promised forever, promised to protect each other, love each other, build a life together.
When the priest said Lorenzo could kiss his bride, Lorenzo didn’t hesitate. Pulled her close. Kissed her like he meant it. Like she was everything. Like he’d never let go. The reception was loud. Italian family. Good food, better wine, dancing, laughter. Ruby sang for their first dance. No music, just her voice. Singing the way you look tonight.
While Lorenzo held her close and swayed. I love you. He said it against her hair. My wife, my Ruby, I love you more than anything. I love you, too. Ruby looked up at him, at her husband, the man who’d saved her. My Lorenzo, my protector, my love.
Two years after the attack, Ruby Morrison Santoro stood on the stage of Carnegie Hall. Sold out show. Her first album had gone platinum. Her name was known Ruby Morrison, the jazz singer who’d survived tragedy and turned it into art. Lorenzo was in the audience, front row like always, watching her with that look. Pride, love, possession, his wife, his ruby, his everything.
She sang 15 songs, her voice stronger than ever, richer. like surviving had given her depth she wouldn’t have had otherwise. The audience gave her a standing ovation twice. After the show, Lorenzo came backstage, pulled her into his arms, kissed her until she was breathless. You were perfect. He said it with absolute certainty. The best I’ve ever heard you because I’m singing for you.
Ruby touched his face. Two years of marriage, two years of love, two years of building a life together. I’m always singing for you and I’m always listening. Lorenzo kissed her forehead. Always watching, always protecting what’s mine. They went home to the penthouse that held memories. Good ones now.
Years of love replacing the trauma. Ruby’s career taking off. Lorenzo still running his businesses. both legitimate and otherwise. Still dangerous when he needed to be. Still protective of what was his. Ruby had learned to accept it. The dual nature of the man she’d married. The gentle husband who made her coffee in the morning.
The dangerous man who destroyed her attackers so thoroughly they’d never heard anyone again. She’d never asked for details. Didn’t want them. just knew that Tyler Kaine had left the city. That his father had lost his position, that the friends who’d helped him had disappeared, that Lorenzo had kept his promise, made sure they’d never touch another woman. That night, in their bed, Lorenzo held her close. I’m proud of you.
You know that, right? Everything you’ve accomplished, the way you turned something terrible into something beautiful. You’re extraordinary. I had help. Ruby smiled against his chest. You saved me in every way a person can be saved. You saved me, too. Lorenzo tilted her face up, kissed her softly. Reminded me there was more to life than business and violence.
Reminded me what it felt like to love someone, to want to be better for someone. We saved each other. Then Ruby settled against him. content, safe, loved, built something beautiful from something terrible. Yeah. Lorenzo tightened his arms around her. We did. They fell asleep like that. Two people who’d found each other in an alley in the darkest moment and built a life filled with music and love and the certainty that they’d always protect each other, always choose each other, always be each other’s home. Ruby Morrison had been broken in that alley, but Lorenzo Santoro had helped her heal,
had shown her she was stronger than she’d ever known. And together, they’d built something neither of them would ever let go. If you enjoyed this story of survival and the love that grows from protection, subscribe for more stories about dangerous men with gentle hearts and the women who change their lives.
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