Chapter 1 - Bring Her to Me
The first thing Elena Marlow noticed when her cheek struck the marble floor was how cold it was.
The second thing she noticed was the silence.
Not the ordinary silence of an expensive restaurant.
This was different.
Five hundred-dollar plates stopped moving.
Wine glasses remained suspended above white tablecloths.
Conversations died one table at a time until the entire dining room seemed to hold its breath.
Elena stayed on her hands and knees.
Her hair covered half her face.
Blood dripped from her split lip onto the white marble.
Across from her, Grant Hale stood breathing heavily, his expensive suit wrinkled from the struggle.
"You stupid woman," he hissed.
Elena looked up.
She saw the fear behind his anger.
Good.
That meant he knew something had gone wrong.
He grabbed her arm.
"Get up."
Elena didn't move.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she was counting.
Three.
Two.
One.
From the mezzanine above came the quiet sound of a glass being placed on a railing.
Everyone looked up.
So did Grant.
And for the first time that evening, his face lost all color.
Luca Moretti stood above them.
He was dressed entirely in black.
No tie.
No flashy jewelry.
No visible weapon.
He didn't need one.
Everyone in the restaurant knew who he was.
Luca owned Belladonna, the most exclusive Italian restaurant in the city.
He also controlled half the private shipping terminals along the eastern waterfront.
But the people who mattered knew something else.
Belladonna was neutral ground.
Politicians ate there.
Judges ate there.
Union leaders ate there.
Mafia families ate there.
Nobody started a war inside Luca Moretti's restaurant.
Nobody except Grant Hale.
Luca's dark eyes settled on Elena.
Then moved to Grant.
"Who hit her?"
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Grant immediately released Elena's arm.
"Mr. Moretti, this is a private matter."
Luca's expression didn't change.
"I didn't ask what it was."
He looked at his head of security.
"Bring her to me."
Two men approached.
Grant stepped backward.
"Wait."
Luca finally looked at him.
"You're done waiting."
The men seized Grant.
He struggled for exactly three seconds.
Then realized how many guns were pointed at him.
Elena slowly pushed herself upright.
One of Luca's guards offered his hand.
She ignored it.
She stood by herself.
That detail caught Luca's attention.
She was bruised.
Shaking.
Her blouse was torn at the shoulder.
But her eyes were remarkably steady.
Luca watched her walk toward the private staircase.
She didn't look afraid.
She looked focused.
That was the first thing about her he couldn't explain.
The second came when she reached the mezzanine.
She stopped beside him.
Her breathing was uneven.
"Mr. Moretti."
"Yes?"
She glanced toward the dining room.
Then whispered:
"Table fourteen is lying."
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"Not the man who attacked me."
She swallowed.
"The people sitting at table fourteen."
Luca looked down.
Table fourteen was occupied by three men.
One was a city councilman.
Another was the owner of a freight company.
The third was a retired federal prosecutor.
All three were supposedly respectable.
Elena looked back at him.
"They're going to kill you."
Luca studied her face.
"Who told you?"
"No one."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because they just ordered dessert."
That made no sense.
Luca stared at her.
Elena continued.
"At Belladonna, dessert means the meeting is over."
She pointed subtly.
"They're not leaving."
Luca's gaze shifted toward table fourteen.
The three men were speaking quietly.
One folded his napkin.
The second placed his fork across his plate.
The third checked his watch.
Elena whispered:
"Those are signals."
Luca looked at her.
"How would you know?"
Her eyes met his.
"Because I designed them."
Silence.
Luca's expression changed for the first time.
"What did you say?"
Elena reached inside her torn handbag.
Every guard immediately raised his weapon.
She froze.
"Slowly," Luca said.
She withdrew a small black notebook.
She opened it.
Inside were dozens of handwritten numbers.
Table numbers.
Dish numbers.
Reservation times.
Names.
Dates.
Luca took the notebook.
His eyes moved across the pages.
Then stopped.
Page forty-seven.
His own name.
And beside it:
FRIDAY — 11:30 P.M. — DEATH CONFIRMED.
Luca looked up.
Elena's voice was barely audible.
"You have forty-eight minutes."
Luca stared at her.
"Who are you?"
She hesitated.
"Elena Marlow."
"That's not what I asked."
She looked toward table fourteen.
"My brother was an accountant."
Luca waited.
"He disappeared three weeks ago."
Something in her expression hardened.
"Before he disappeared, he told me something."
"What?"
"He said the most dangerous man in the city wasn't the man everyone feared."
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"Who did he say it was?"
Elena looked directly at him.
"The man sitting at table fourteen."
Luca turned.
One of the three men suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met.
The man smiled.
Luca didn't smile back.
Then the restaurant lights went out.
A single gunshot exploded through the darkness.
People screamed.
Glass shattered.
Security moved.
Luca grabbed Elena and pulled her behind a stone column.
She felt his arm around her waist.
He smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.
Another shot.
Then another.
Luca leaned toward her.
"Stay here."
Elena grabbed his sleeve.
"No."
He looked down.
She pointed toward the ceiling.
"The shot didn't come from the table."
Luca froze.
"What?"
"The echo."
She listened.
Her eyes narrowed.
"There's someone in the wine cellar."
Luca stared at her.
"You can hear that?"
"I can hear where the bullet came from."
A strange smile appeared on his face.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
"Then, Elena Marlow..."
He reached for his gun.
May you like
"...you're coming with me."
And somewhere beneath Belladonna, someone was already waiting for them.
