Chapter 2 - The Empty Restaurant
By ten-thirty, Bellanote was nearly empty.
The storm had turned Manhattan into a sheet of black glass, rain hammering the windows hard enough to drown out the music whenever the restaurant fell quiet.
Dante Russo was still at table eight.
So was Sophia.
The pasta in front of the little girl had gone cold.
Maya had stopped counting how many times Dante had asked his daughter to eat.
Never harshly.
That surprised her.
Everything about him suggested a man accustomed to obedience, yet each time he spoke to Sophia, his voice changed.
"Sophia. Just one bite."
Nothing.
"For me."
The girl lowered her eyes.
Dante's jaw tightened, but the frustration Maya saw wasn't directed at his daughter.
It was directed at himself.
Tony finally gave Maya a gentle shove toward the booth.
"Bring her something."
"Like what?"
"You are the baker."
Maya frowned.
Then she understood.
Ten minutes later, she carried out a small white plate containing a warm miniature chocolate cake she'd improvised from ingredients in Tony's kitchen.
She placed it in front of Sophia.
Dante looked up.
"We didn't order this."
"No."
His eyes sharpened.
Maya nearly retreated.
Instead, she crouched beside Sophia.
"I made too much," she lied. "It would be terrible if nobody helped me."
Sophia looked at the cake.
Then at Maya.
It was the first time Maya had seen her deliberately look at anyone.
Maya broke off a tiny piece with a fork.
"I should warn you, I'm trying to become a baker someday. So you're technically a professional taste tester."
A flicker crossed Sophia's face.
Almost curiosity.
Dante noticed.
Maya pretended not to.
She put the fork down and walked away.
Five minutes later, Sophia took one bite.
Dante froze.
Maya was polishing glasses behind the bar when she saw it.
He didn't smile.
But his shoulders dropped slightly.
Sophia ate another bite.
Then another.
By the time half the cake was gone, Dante was watching Maya instead of his daughter.
The intensity of his gaze made her nervous.
Near eleven, Tony locked the front door.
Dante stood.
Sophia slid from the booth but stumbled almost immediately.
Her father caught her.
"She's exhausted," Maya said before remembering she probably shouldn't be giving Dante Russo advice.
His gray eyes found hers.
"I know."
Sophia clung to his coat.
"Car's five minutes away," said a broad-shouldered man who had appeared from outside.
Dante nodded.
But Sophia's knees buckled again.
Maya stepped forward instinctively.
"May I?"
Dante stared at her.
Nobody else moved.
Finally, he released his daughter.
Maya lifted Sophia.
The little girl was frighteningly light.
Sophia stiffened for perhaps two seconds.
Then something extraordinary happened.
She curled against Maya's chest.
Her cheek settled over Maya's heart.
Within minutes, her breathing became slow and deep.
She was asleep.
Nobody spoke.
Maya sat in one of the dining chairs, afraid movement would wake her.
Sophia's fingers remained curled around the fabric of Maya's apron.
Dante stood beside them.
The feared man Tony had warned her about suddenly looked almost lost.
"She hasn't slept longer than twenty minutes since her mother disappeared," he said.
Maya looked down.
"Maybe she was just tired enough."
"No."
The certainty in his voice made her look up.
Dante crouched beside the chair.
His hand moved toward Sophia, but stopped inches from her hair.
As if he were afraid touching his own child would break whatever miracle had occurred.
Maya whispered, "You can touch her."
Something shifted behind his eyes.
Slowly, he rested his palm against Sophia's curls.
The girl didn't wake.
Instead, she pressed closer to Maya.
Dante swallowed.
"Who are you?"
Maya almost laughed.
"The waitress."
"No."
He studied her.
"Children don't trust strangers like this."
"Maybe children don't care who people are supposed to be."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means she doesn't know you're Dante Russo."
Silence.
"She knows you're her dad."
His expression changed.
Maya wondered whether she'd gone too far.
Then Sophia murmured something in her sleep.
Both adults went still.
"Mama..."
Dante's face drained of color.
Sophia whimpered.
Maya instinctively stroked her back.
"You're okay, sweetheart."
The child's breathing settled again.
Dante stood abruptly and walked several steps away.
Maya saw his reflection in the dark window.
He was staring at nothing.
When his driver finally arrived, Dante returned.
"I need to take her."
Maya nodded.
But the moment he tried to lift Sophia, the girl woke with a terrified gasp and locked both arms around Maya.
Dante stopped.
Sophia didn't scream.
She didn't speak.
She simply trembled.
Maya looked helplessly at him.
"What do we do?"
For perhaps the first time in years, Dante Russo seemed to have no answer.
Then he made a decision.
"Come with us."
Maya blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Until she falls asleep at home."
"I'm working."
Tony appeared behind her.
"Your shift ended twenty minutes ago."
Traitor.
Maya looked at Dante.
"I don't know you."
"That's sensible."
"And I don't get into cars with strange men."
Something almost resembling amusement touched his face.
"Also sensible."
He removed a card from his wallet and placed it on the table.
His full name. Business information. Address.
"Tony knows where we're going. You can photograph the license plate. Call anyone you want. My driver will return you wherever you choose."
Maya looked at Sophia.
The little girl's terrified fingers were still twisted into her apron.
That decided it.
"One hour."
Dante nodded.
"One hour."
The Russo residence wasn't a residence.
It was a fortress disguised as an Upper East Side townhouse.
Security cameras followed them through iron gates. Two men stood beneath the covered entrance. Another opened the SUV door before it fully stopped.
Maya's unease grew.
Dante noticed.
"Nobody will hurt you here."
"People usually only say that in places where that's a possibility."
He looked at her.
This time, she definitely saw the ghost of a smile.
Inside, marble floors gleamed beneath crystal chandeliers.
Sophia remained asleep.
Dante led Maya upstairs into a bedroom decorated in soft cream and pink.
Stuffed animals lined shelves.
Books filled an entire wall.
It should have felt warm.
Instead, it felt untouched.
Maya lowered Sophia onto the bed.
The little girl's fingers tightened.
"No."
The word was tiny.
Barely sound at all.
Dante stopped breathing.
Maya stared at Sophia.
It was the first word the child had spoken in three days.
Sophia's eyes opened.
She looked at Maya.
"Don't go."
Dante turned away sharply.
Maya's throat tightened.
"I'll stay until you sleep."
Sophia nodded.
Twenty minutes later, the girl was unconscious again.
Maya gently freed her hand.
In the hallway, Dante was waiting.
"How much do you make at Bellanote?"
Maya frowned.
"That's none of your business."
"How much?"
"I'm not for sale."
His expression changed.
"I didn't say you were."
"Then what are you asking?"
He glanced toward Sophia's door.
"My daughter needs someone she trusts."
"She needs her father."
That hit him.
Maya immediately regretted the sharpness.
But Dante didn't become angry.
He looked toward the bedroom.
"Yes," he said quietly. "She does."
Then a phone vibrated inside his jacket.
He answered.
Listened.
His entire demeanor changed.
The vulnerable father disappeared.
Something colder took his place.
"When?"
A pause.
"Where?"
Another.
Dante's gaze shifted toward Maya.
"What did you find?"
His face went utterly still.
Then he said four words that made Maya's stomach tighten.
"Don't touch the car."
He ended the call.
"What happened?" Maya asked.
Dante looked toward Sophia's room.
"My wife's car was found."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"No."
May you like
His gray eyes returned to Maya.
"There was blood inside."
