“A woman running from someone who frightened her.”
I looked down.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I whispered, “He always tells people I’m confused.”
The stranger was quiet.
I forced a laugh.
“He says I forget things. That I overreact. That I imagine conversations.”
My voice broke.
“Sometimes he says it so often that I start wondering whether he’s right.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed.
“Has he hurt you?”
I looked at the red mark on my wrist.
Then away.
“Not in a way anyone believes.”
Silence.
Something cold moved through his expression.
But when he spoke, his voice remained controlled.
“Sit down, Nora.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because you’re shaking.”
I looked at my hands.
He was right.
I sat.
Not beside him.
At the opposite end of the booth.
He didn’t object.
***
Matteo returned with a plate of pasta, warm bread, and a glass of water.
I stared at the food.
“You ordered all this?”
Matteo grinned.
“Boss said feed you. I take instructions seriously.”
“Apparently.”
He placed the plate before me.
“Eat before he starts looking at everyone like we’re incompetent.”
I glanced at the stranger.
He was already speaking quietly with another man.
“Is he always like that?”
Matteo followed my gaze.
“Like what?”
“Terrifying.”
Matteo considered it.
“Only when he’s awake.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
It surprised me so much that I covered my mouth.
The stranger looked over.
For half a second, something almost warm crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
***
I ate slowly.
The pasta was delicious.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first bite.
The stranger sat across from me now, reviewing something on his phone.
Every few minutes, someone approached him.
A man in an expensive suit.
A woman with a clipboard.
A security guard.
They all spoke quietly.
They all waited for his answer.
And they all called him boss.
Finally, curiosity overcame common sense.
“What’s your name?”
He looked up.
The man beside him went still.
I frowned.
“What?”
The stranger studied me.
“You really don’t know?”
“Should I?”
Matteo made a strangled sound.
The stranger ignored him.
“Dante.”
I waited.
“Dante what?”
He leaned back.
“Valenti.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
Oh.
Oh, no.
I knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago knew that name.
Dante Valenti.
Owner of luxury hotels.
Shipping companies.
Private clubs.
Commercial real estate.
And, according to every rumor I’d ever heard, the man who controlled the city’s most powerful Italian-American criminal organization.
I stared at him.
He watched my expression change.
Then raised one eyebrow.
“There it is.”
I swallowed.
“You’re Dante Valenti.”
“Apparently.”
“The Dante Valenti.”
“I wasn’t aware there were several.”
I looked toward the exit.
Then back at him.
“Oh my God.”
Matteo laughed.
“That’s usually the reaction.”
I pressed my hands against my face.
“I sat on a mafia boss.”
Silence.
Then Dante said dryly, “You did.”
I lowered my hands.
“Am I going to die?”
Matteo burst out laughing.
Dante gave him one look.
He stopped.
Then Dante turned back to me.
“Not because you sat on my lap.”
I stared.
“That’s not as reassuring as you think.”
For the first time, Dante Valenti smiled.
Barely.
Just one corner of his mouth.
But it transformed his face.
And that frightened me more than anything.
Because for one impossible second, I forgot I was afraid.
***
At one fifteen in the morning, I finished eating.
The club was beginning to empty.
Dante stood near the windows, speaking with Gabriel Torres, his head of security.
I remained at the booth.
My purse rested beside me.
Forty-two dollars.
A dead phone.
No home I could safely return to.
No family I could call.
My mother had died when I was nineteen.
My father had disappeared long before that.
And Cameron had spent two years making sure every friendship I had eventually became a problem.
I was alone.
Completely.
I hated how frightening that realization felt.
Dante returned.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go?”
I looked up.
“Yes.”
He studied me.
“Where?”
I hesitated.
“A friend’s.”
“Name?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe you.”
I looked away.
He sat opposite me.
“Nora.”
I hated the way he said my name.
Not because it sounded threatening.
Because it sounded like he expected an honest answer.
And I was so tired of lying.
“No,” I whispered.
His expression didn’t change.
“No what?”
“I don’t have anywhere.”
For a moment, he was silent.
Then he took out his phone.
“Gabriel.”
The security chief approached.
“Boss.”
“Find a room at the Meridian.”
Gabriel nodded.
“Understood.”
I looked up sharply.
“No.”
Dante turned.
“No?”
“I can’t afford a hotel.”
“You won’t be paying.”
“I don’t want to owe you anything.”
His gaze held mine.
“Then don’t.”
I stared.
He continued.
