Chapter 2 - The Man at Table Seven
I followed Leo's finger.
At the far end of Il Destino, a man in a gray suit stood beside an abandoned dessert cart.
He looked ordinary.
Midforties.
Dark hair.
Silver watch.
The kind of man nobody would notice in a crowded restaurant.
But Leo noticed him.
And the moment he did, his little body went rigid.
“No,” Leo whispered.
His hand clamped around my collar.
“No, no, no.”
I turned slightly, blocking his view.
“Hey, buddy. Look at me.”
He wouldn't.
The man in the gray suit reached into his jacket.
Dante moved first.
“Hands where I can see them!”
A chair toppled.
Two bodyguards crossed the floor.
The man pulled out a cell phone.
“Easy!”
But instead of showing them the screen, he threw the phone toward the kitchen and ran.
Everything happened at once.
A waiter screamed.
A glass shattered.
Rico shoved his chair backward.
“Get him!”
The man reached the service corridor before Dante's men caught up.
I heard a heavy crash.
Then another.
Leo began sobbing against me.
I held him closer.
“It's okay. You're safe.”
I wasn't sure either statement was true.
Rico turned toward us.
“Take him into the private lounge.”
I shook my head.
“He doesn't know me well enough to go somewhere alone with me.”
Rico looked confused.
“I'm telling you to—”
“Come with us.”
His expression hardened.
I thought he would refuse.
Then Leo reached one tiny hand toward his father.
Rico stopped breathing.
“Daddy.”
The word came out broken.
But it was unmistakable.
Rico took one step forward.
“I'm right here, son.”
Leo didn't let go of me.
Instead, he stretched his arm until Rico could hold his hand.
And for the first time since I'd entered the dining room, the feared mafia boss looked completely helpless.
We walked into the private lounge together.
Rico closed the door.
The room smelled of expensive leather and fresh coffee.
There were deep velvet sofas, dark wood cabinets, and a fireplace that hadn't been lit.
Leo refused to sit anywhere except my lap.
Rico watched him.
“Did you do something special to that milk?”
I almost smiled.
“Just warmed it.”
“That's impossible.”
“What's impossible?”
“My son hasn't let another woman hold him since Elena died.”
The name landed heavily between us.
“His mother?”
Rico nodded.
I looked down.
Leo was studying the little silver buttons on my uniform.
“He misses her.”
Rico laughed once.
A bitter, empty sound.
“You think I don't know that?”
“I think you know it hurts.”
He looked away.
“But knowing something hurts isn't the same as knowing what to do about it.”
Silence settled.
Then Rico lowered himself into the chair across from us.
“Elena used to give him warm milk before bed.”
I nodded.
“Did she add sugar?”
He blinked.
“How did you know?”
“Leo watched me add a sugar cube. He smiled a little before he drank.”
Rico covered his mouth.
“Elena always added one cube. I told her it was too much.”
A small, sad smile appeared.
“She told me he'd have plenty of time to worry about rules when he grew up.”
For a moment, I could almost see the woman they'd lost.
A mother standing in a warm kitchen.
A child waiting for his milk.
A husband who thought there would always be another evening.
Rico stared into the empty fireplace.
“I didn't know.”
“What?”
“That he remembered.”
I looked at Leo.
“Children remember how someone made them feel, even when they can't explain it.”
Rico nodded slowly.
A knock interrupted us.
Dante entered.
His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder.
“Boss, we caught him.”
Rico stood.
“Who is he?”
“He says his name is Frank Bell.”
“Never heard of him.”
Dante hesitated.
“What?”
“We found a photograph in his wallet.”
He placed it on the table.
Rico picked it up.
I watched his expression change.
The photograph showed a woman in a pale blue dress standing outside a coffee shop.
Dark hair.
Beautiful smile.
A toddler on her hip.
Elena.
And Leo.
Rico turned the photograph over.
Someone had written four words on the back.
SHE WASN'T THE TARGET.
Rico's face went white.
Dante spoke quietly.
“Boss, there's something else.”
“What?”
“The man says Elena knew exactly who ordered the shooting.”
Rico's voice became dangerously calm.
“Bring him here.”
Dante didn't move.
“There's a problem.”
Rico stared at him.
“Talk.”
May you like
Dante swallowed.
“He says he'll only tell the truth to the waitress.”
