CHAPTER TWO: THE DON'S PROPOSAL 

Jesse felt the air completely leave his lungs under the suffocating, magnetic weight of that stare. He forced his legs to move, walking over to the table with practiced professionalism, and set the plate down.

"Your dinner, sir."

Donato didn't even glance down at the expensive food. He kept his eyes locked on Jesse’s face. "Everyone leave the room."

The guards behind him exited the space immediately. Jesse felt a wave of relief wash over him, he turned to follow them out.

"Everyone except you."

Jesse froze, his back stiffening.

"Jesse."

His name sounded incredibly heavy, dangerous, and strange coming from the Don's mouth. It was spoken with a light,

rhythmic Italian accent made his voice unexpectedly sexy—clear and laced with effortless authority.

Jesse slowly turned back around, his eyes widened in shock. 

How the hell does he know my name? 

Donato gestured toward the empty leather chair directly opposite him. "Sit."

"I'm deeply sorry, sir, but I am still technically on duty and working," Jesse replied, trying to cling to the safety of his job description.

Donato simply stared at him, a ghost of a smirk touching the corner of his lips. He was visibly impressed by the guts it took for a waiter to talk back to him.

"Sit."

This time, it wasn't a request. It was an absolute command. So Jesse pulled out the chair and sat down.

Donato studied him in complete, agonizing silence for several seconds, his dark eyes scanning the faint red mark left by Gonzalez's slap on Jesse's cheek.

"You defended one of the hotel staff tonight," Donato noted smoothly.

Jesse said nothing, choosing his words with extreme caution.

"Did you know who the man was?"

"Yes," Jesse gave a curt, tight nod. "I knew."

"And you still chose to intervene."

"She needed help," Jesse said, pausing for a brief moment as he thought of his family. "It could have been my sister in that position."

Something subtle shifted behind Donato's  gaze. "You're not afraid of the consequences? Are you, Jesse?"

"I am afraid," Jesse admitted. "But I did it anyway."

That answer seemed to thoroughly interest the Don. Donato leaned back comfortably in his leather chair, crossing his legs. "Would you like to come work for me?"

Jesse blinked, caught entirely off guard. "What?"

"You heard me perfectly fine." He took the glass of scotch to his lips. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but I already have a job here," Jesse said, gesturing down toward his black and grey uniform vest.

Donato's gaze didn't waver. "For how much?"

Jesse hesitated. "Does the amount really matter?"

"I'll pay you more than this place ever could."

Jesse let out a dry, humorless laugh. "With all due respect, sir, I don't think I can afford the danger of working for a man like you."

Donato's expression remained completely unreadable, a mask of stone. "The job is incredibly simple."

Jesse's attention sharpened, his instincts screaming at him to listen closely. Donato slowly rose from his chair, his tall, imposing frame towering over the table. He picked up his crystal glass and placed it back down with a soft, deliberate click.

"I need a husband," Donato stated calmly. He met Jesse's stunned eyes.

"I'd like you to marry me."

For several agonizing seconds, Jesse simply stared at him, convinced he had misheard.

“You're... you're serious?”

He searched Donato's face for anything—a smirk, or even a cruel glint—that suggested this was some elaborate, sadistic joke played on a poor waiter. He found absolutely nothing but cold, unbreaking ice.

“Why me?” Jesse whispered. “Out of everyone in this city, why choose me?”

“Because you desperately need the money.”

Jesse's expression instantly hardened. But Donato continued smoothly before the younger man could respond or snap back.

“I've already thoroughly looked into your entire situation.” Donato reached down, picked up a  heavy manila folder from the side table, and slid it across the dark wood.

Jesse didn't touch it. He only stared at the cardboard folder as though it were a disease-ridden object.

“Your mother needs continued, expensive medical care to stay alive,” Donato stated, listing the facts with a chilling detachment. “Your younger brother's university fees are entirely overdue. Your sister is seven months pregnant and has no one willing to support her financially.”

Jesse's jaw tightened until the bone ached. “You had me investigated. You dug through my life. How nice.”

“Let's just say I am a businessman, Jesse. And efficient businessmen do not make major life decisions blindly.”

Jesse’s trembling fingers finally reached out. He picked up the heavy folder and flipped it open to the first page. The amount written in bold ink made his fingers still against the paper. It wasn't merely enough money to pay his family's current bills, It was enough to rewrite their future and buy them absolute safety.

He slowly looked up, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.

“Six months?” Donato's deep, baritone voice boomed with absolute seriousness, the low, seductive melody of his accent tracing the edges of the words.

“Six. Months,” Jesse repeated, almost laughing out loud at the sheer absurdity of it. 

“And after that time? The contract ends?” Donato lifted a single, dark brow. Leaning back comfortably in his chair, he folded his hands. “Oh, and Jesse?”

Jesse waited, holding his breath.

“Don't mistake my good manners for a choice.” Donato’s gaze pinned him to the spot, predatory. 

“I am being exceptionally generous by letting you hear the offer from me first." His voice dropped low.

"I do not ask for things that I have already decided to take.”