Chapter 2 - Sit Down, Nora
Roman did not move toward the booth.
Instead, he crouched.
That frightened Nora more than if he had pulled a gun.
The Roman she remembered did not crouch beside anyone. Other people lowered themselves for him.
Yet there he was, surrounded by broken porcelain and spilled wine, taking a folded white handkerchief from his pocket.
Nora jerked her bleeding hand away.
“Don’t.”
One word.
Roman stopped immediately.
Something passed through his eyes.
Pain, perhaps.
Three years ago, Nora would have searched his face until she understood it.
Now she stood.
“I’m not serving you.”
Arthur nearly choked.
Roman remained silent.
“I quit,” Nora said.
“Sadie—” Arthur began.
“My name is Nora.”
Saying it aloud felt strange.
Dangerous.
But also unexpectedly clean.
Arthur looked between them. “Whatever your name is, you cannot walk out during Friday service.”
“Watch me.”
Nora untied her burgundy apron.
She had approximately $640 in savings. Her rent was due in twelve days. She had no other job.
She dropped the apron on a chair anyway.
Roman stepped aside when she walked toward the employee hallway.
He did not touch her.
That disturbed her too.
Nora reached the locker room and began pulling her coat from a metal locker.
Her hands shook so badly she missed the sleeve twice.
Then she heard footsteps.
“Go away, Roman.”
“They found you.”
She froze.
Not I found you.
They.
Nora slowly turned.
Roman stood in the doorway, maintaining several feet between them.
“Who?”
“Victor Dane.”
The name reached into the graveyard of Nora’s memory and pulled something out.
Victor had once been Roman’s closest business partner.
Then one night three years ago, Nora had overheard Victor speaking inside Roman’s study.
A shipment.
A judge.
Two police officers.
And the planned murder of Roman’s younger brother, Luca.
Nora had recorded part of the conversation on her phone.
She had intended to give it to Roman.
She never got the chance.
That same night, Luca’s car exploded.
Nora had been in Roman’s penthouse when the news arrived.
She remembered Roman standing perfectly still.
She remembered Victor arriving twenty minutes later, putting an arm around him, promising revenge.
And she remembered realizing the killer was comforting the victim’s brother.
Nora had panicked.
She had run.
“You told me Victor was dead.”
“I thought he was.”
“You think a lot of things.”
Roman accepted the blow without reaction.
“He resurfaced six months ago.”
“Why should that matter to me?”
“Because yesterday one of his men showed a photograph of you to a bartender in Queens.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
Roman continued.
“The photograph was taken outside this restaurant.”
She sat down.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her legs had weakened.
Roman reached inside his suit jacket.
Nora flinched.
He stopped.
Slowly, deliberately, he removed a photograph.
He placed it on a bench rather than handing it to her.
Nora looked.
It showed her leaving Lombardi’s at 1:17 in the morning.
Someone had written a date on the bottom.
Six days earlier.
“Why does Victor want me?”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“You know why.”
“The recording?”
Roman nodded.
“I don’t have it.”
“Victor doesn’t believe that.”
“I destroyed the phone.”
“I know.”
Nora stared at him.
“How?”
“Because I found it in the Hudson.”
A chill traveled through her.
“You were looking for me.”
“Every day.”
The answer came too quickly.
Nora stood.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Turn this into something romantic.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not.”
“You hunted me for three years.”
“I searched for you.”
“There’s a difference only in your head.”
He looked down.
That tiny movement surprised her.
Roman Bellini had once considered apologies a form of surrender.
“I know,” he said.
Nora stared.
Roman continued quietly.
“I came here because I learned Victor had located you. I intended to move you somewhere secure.”
“You intended?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking?”
His silence answered.
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“Three years and you haven’t changed.”
“I have.”
“You just told me you planned to relocate me like furniture.”
Roman’s face shifted.
“Then tell me what you want.”
“Leave.”
He looked at her for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
He turned.
Nora could not believe it.
“Roman.”
He stopped.
She hated herself for calling him back.
“How did Luca really die?”
Roman’s shoulders stiffened.
“I don’t know.”
“You always know.”
“Not this time.”
He looked back at her.
“For three years I believed you ran because you helped kill him.”
Nora felt the floor disappear beneath her.
“What?”
Roman reached into his jacket again.
This time he removed an old photograph.
Nora and Luca stood outside a coffee shop.
The image was grainy.
On the back was a date.
Two days before Luca died.
“You met him secretly,” Roman said.
“Because I was warning him.”
“About Victor?”
“Yes.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Only briefly.
When they opened, something had changed.
“I was wrong.”
“You thought I murdered your brother?”
“I thought you betrayed me.”
“And still you searched for me?”
“Not to punish you.”
Nora laughed bitterly. “What, then?”
Roman stared at her.
“To ask why I wasn’t enough for you to tell me the truth.”
Nora’s anger exploded.
“Because you terrified me!”
The hallway became silent.
“You had men beaten for lying to you. You destroyed people who disappointed you. I watched everyone around you measure every sentence because one wrong word could ruin their lives.”
Roman did not defend himself.
Nora’s eyes burned.
“I loved you, Roman. That was the problem. I loved you enough to see the man underneath all of it, and eventually I realized I was helping that man pretend the monster wasn’t real.”
Roman looked as though she had struck him.
Good.
She wanted it to hurt.
Then Tommy appeared at the end of the hallway.
His usual composure was gone.
“Boss.”
Roman turned.
“What?”
Tommy held a phone.
“We’ve got a problem.”
Roman took it.
A photograph filled the screen.
Nora leaned closer despite herself.
It showed her apartment building.
Taken tonight.
On the sidewalk stood a man in a dark jacket.
And beside him was Arthur.
Her manager.
Arthur was accepting an envelope.
Nora looked toward the dining room.
“He sold me out.”
Roman’s expression went cold.
But when he spoke, his voice remained quiet.
“You asked me what I was doing here.”
He handed the phone back to Tommy.
May you like
“This is your answer.”
Then the restaurant lights went out.
