“Can I sit here?”
Fifty people stopped breathing.
Alessandra Ferraro stood in the middle of Manhattan’s most dangerous private club with a sleeping three-year-old boy in her arms, rain dripping from her coat, and pointed at the only empty chair she could find.
Unfortunately, it belonged to Máximo Costa.
There was blood on the armrest.
And a man was still lying broken on the marble floor a few feet away.
Alessandra had no idea where she had walked into.
She only knew she had been running for eighteen hours.
Her back screamed. Her arms had gone numb from carrying Leo through three hours of rain. Her phone was dead, her bank cards had stopped working before noon, and somewhere in New York, powerful people were hunting her because she had discovered fifty million dollars missing from accounts she had been hired to examine.
All she wanted was ten minutes somewhere warm.
A chair.
Milk for her son.
Then she had seen the bronze door beneath an unmarked awning and gone inside.
Now every armed man in the room was staring at her.
Máximo Costa looked up slowly.
Tall. Dark-haired. Split knuckles. Blood on one cuff.
His emerald-green suit probably cost more than Alessandra’s car had before her ex-husband took it in the divorce.
The newspapers called Máximo a financier.
The police called him a person of interest.
Nobody in that room appeared confused about what he really was.
His eyes moved over Alessandra once.
Her soaked coat clung to her full stomach and wide hips. Her floral dress was damp at the hem. Her dark hair had escaped its clip hours ago.
Years earlier, that kind of attention would have made her shrink.
Her mother had given her diet books at thirteen.
Her ex-husband, Victor, had once suggested that losing forty pounds might make her “feel more confident.”
Alessandra had eventually realized Victor had not wanted her confident.
He had wanted her apologetic.
Tonight, she was too exhausted to apologize for occupying space.
She pointed again.
“The chair?”
Máximo stared at her.
“You walked past forty empty laps to ask for mine?”
Alessandra glanced around.
“There are no empty chairs.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
“I’m not sitting in anyone’s lap.”
Something almost dangerous softened at the corner of his mouth.
Then he said, “Sit down, Alessandra Ferraro.”
Her blood went cold.
She had never met him.
Never spoken to him.
Yet he knew her name.
Alessandra remained standing.
“How do you know who I am?”
Máximo leaned back.
“The entire East Coast knows who you are tonight.”
Leo shifted against her shoulder.
Alessandra tightened her arms around him.
Máximo’s gaze dropped briefly to the sleeping child.
Then returned to her face.
“The Staal organization is offering two million dollars for you alive.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Alessandra finally sat because her knees stopped cooperating.
Máximo’s expression did not change.
“Better.”
She stared at him.
“Are you going to turn me in?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
“Why?”
Máximo glanced toward the men surrounding the room, then toward the bloody chair she had claimed without understanding what sitting beside him meant.
His eyes returned to hers.
“Because Vanessa Staal wants you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Máximo’s mouth curved faintly.
“It is where I come from.”
A waiter approached cautiously.
Alessandra swallowed.
“Warm milk, please.”
The waiter nodded.
“And a bourbon.”
Máximo lifted one eyebrow.
“For you?”
Alessandra stared at him.
“For the three-year-old.”
For the first time that night, Máximo Costa laughed.
Low.
Unexpected.
And every man close enough to hear it looked suddenly more nervous than before.
Alessandra did not understand why.
She was too busy noticing the club entrance.
Two men had entered beneath the bronze archway.
One spoke quietly to the hostess.
The other looked around the room.
Then his gaze landed on Alessandra.
Her stomach dropped.
She knew him.
He had been standing across from Leo’s preschool that morning.
“Máximo.”
The laughter disappeared from his face.
“What?”
“The man by the door.”
Máximo did not turn.
“Which one?”
“Gray tie. Scar beside his ear.”
“You know him?”
“No. But he followed me.”
Máximo lifted his bourbon and took one calm sip.
“Dante.”
A huge man behind him stepped forward.
“Yes?”
“Close the doors.”
The club changed instantly.
Music stopped.
Security shifted.
The bronze doors locked.
The man in the gray tie reached inside his jacket.
Máximo was already moving.
He caught Alessandra’s wrist and pulled her downward just as two of his guards stepped between the booth and the entrance.
A crash exploded through the room.
Guests screamed.
Alessandra curled around Leo, pressing his head beneath her chin.
Leo woke crying.
“Mommy!”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Máximo crouched beside them.
For one strange second, the feared man who had apparently been fighting somebody minutes earlier was not watching the threat.
He was watching Leo.
The little boy stared at Máximo’s bruised face.
“You got an owie.”
Máximo blinked.
“Yes.”
“Need Band-Aid.”
Despite everything, Alessandra almost laughed.
Then Dante appeared.
“Back corridor. Now.”
Máximo stood.
“Take them.”
Alessandra recoiled.
“I’m not going anywhere without knowing where.”
Máximo looked at her as though no one had argued with him during an emergency in a very long time.
“Somewhere the people offering two million dollars for you cannot reach.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Another crash sounded near the entrance.
Máximo removed his jacket and draped it around Leo because the boy was shivering.
The gesture silenced Alessandra.
“Move,” Máximo said.
They went through the kitchen, past stunned chefs and racks of copper pans, then through a steel door into a service corridor.
A black SUV waited in an underground garage.
Alessandra stopped.
“No.”
Dante looked impatient.
Máximo did not.
“What is it?”
“I’m not putting my son in a stranger’s car.”
“Mrs. Ferraro, people just entered my club looking for you.”
“And you knew my name before I walked in. That doesn’t make you less suspicious.”
For several seconds, Máximo simply studied her.
Then he took out his phone.
“Who can you call?”
“No one.”
“Family?”
“My parents are in Florida. I won’t lead anyone to them.”
“Your husband?”
“Ex.”
“Leo’s father?”
“Same useless man.”
A tiny muscle moved in Máximo’s jaw.
“Police?”
“I tried.”
That interested him.
“What happened?”
“They told me to wait.”
“And?”
“Ten minutes later, the detective I spoke to called Vanessa Staal from a number I recognized from the billing records.”
Máximo became very still.
That was when Alessandra understood something important.
He believed her.
Not because he trusted her.
Because something she had said confirmed something he already suspected.
He opened the SUV door.
“You can stay in this garage and wait for whoever comes next, or you can get inside. I won’t touch you. Neither will anyone who works for me.”
Alessandra looked down at Leo.
His little face was pressed into Máximo’s expensive jacket.
“Mommy, milk?”
Her heart broke.
“Soon, baby.”
Máximo glanced at Dante.
“Milk.”
Dante stared.
“Now?”
“Do you know another definition of soon?”
Two minutes later, a security man came running through the garage carrying a carton of whole milk and a box of animal crackers from the club kitchen.
Alessandra looked at Máximo.
“You terrorize people into producing dairy products?”
“I have a diverse organization.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Leo reached toward him.
“Your jacket.”
Máximo looked at the child.
“Keep it.”
Leo considered this.
“Thank you.”
Something unreadable crossed Máximo’s face.
Alessandra got into the SUV.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a townhouse overlooking the East River.
It was not what Alessandra expected.
No gold statues. No gaudy displays.
Just quiet stone, dark wood, expensive art, and enough security to survive a siege.
A housekeeper named Rosa brought Leo pajamas that were slightly too large and warmed his milk.
Within fifteen minutes, he was asleep on a couch.
Alessandra remained beside him.
Máximo sat across from her.
“Tell me about the fifty million.”
She looked up sharply.
“How do you know the amount?”
“Because Vanessa Staal has been moving money through companies connected to my territory for six months.”
“Your territory?”
“You’re tired. Don’t make me define obvious words.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“I’m a forensic accountant. Three months ago, Staal Holdings hired the firm I contract with to audit a group of subsidiaries before a private acquisition.”
“And you found missing money.”
“Not missing. Hidden.”
“Difference?”
“Missing means nobody knows where it went. Hidden means somebody worked very hard to make sure nobody knew where it went.”
Máximo leaned forward.
“Where did it go?”
“Seventeen shell companies. Charitable foundations. Construction firms. Consulting agreements. But eventually everything funneled through three holding accounts.”
“Names?”
“I don’t have them.”
“You memorized them.”
Alessandra stared.
“How do you know?”
“You don’t look like someone who runs eighteen hours with a three-year-old because she misplaced paperwork.”
She hated that he was right.
She gave him the names.
Máximo’s expression hardened at the second.
“Say that again.”
“Caspian North Limited.”
Dante, standing near the doorway, cursed.
Alessandra looked between them.
“What?”
Máximo rose.
“That company belongs to someone inside my organization.”
Silence.
“Then you have a problem,” Alessandra said.
“No.”
His gaze went to Leo.
“We have a problem.”
She stood.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn me into part of your world.”
“You walked into my club.”
“Because I needed a chair.”
“And now Vanessa Staal knows you were sitting beside me.”
“That doesn’t make us partners.”
“No.”
Máximo walked closer.
“It makes you protected.”
“I didn’t ask for protection.”
“You asked for my chair.”
His voice lowered.
“In my world, Alessandra, that was much more expensive.”
Before she could answer, Dante’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Máximo turned.
“What?”
“They found the accountant’s apartment.”
Alessandra’s throat tightened.
“Mine?”
Dante nodded.
“And?”
“They tore it apart.”
She closed her eyes.
Then Dante added the words that changed everything.
“They also found Victor Ferraro.”
Alessandra went still.
“My ex-husband?”
Dante looked at Máximo before answering.
“He wasn’t being threatened.”
A beat of silence.
“He was giving them Leo’s photograph.”
And for the first time in eighteen hours of running, Alessandra stopped feeling afraid.
She became furious.