DERRICK’S POV The moment I stepped off the ballroom floor, I could still feel the ghost of Joan’s touch on my skin. Her warmth, her softness—it lingered, and I hated it. I clenched my fists, shoving past the crowd as I stormed out of the ballroom. The air outside was cool, but it did nothing to stop the fire burning inside me. I needed to get away from her, from the way she made me feel—like I was on the edge of losing control. Damn it. I leaned against a pillar in the hallway, inhaling sharply. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. I had vowed to never let another woman under my skin again. Love was a liability, a weakness I couldn't afford. Not in my world. Not as a mafia boss. If my enemies caught even a whiff of something—of someone—I cared about, the

