Chapter 2

Kai didn't miss a beat. He turned toward me with a look so tender I almost admired the craftsmanship.

"Sir, you have to understand. The family sent me to run the Providence docks this winter. Four months, barely a phone call. Flora hasn't forgiven me for it."

He gave a small, rueful laugh.

"She's been punishing me ever since. Sulking. Making a scene."

Then, softer, to me alone: "Flora, I know you're hurt. But the family comes first, and you know that. Whatever I owe you, I'll make it right. Just stop fighting me, sweetheart."

Four sentences, and he had explained away my "strange behavior" and dressed himself as a loyal soldier forced to neglect the girl he loved.

He was good. He'd always been good at the lie.

Liora rose from her chair with her pearls catching the light and her brow creased in perfect disappointment.

"Flora, that's enough. Do you understand what you're doing? Accusing a capo of touching the Don's wife in front of this room? Kai has bled for this family. You don't get to throw mud on him because you're lonely."

The Don's jaw eased a fraction. When he looked at me, it was the way a man looks at a stain on a good tablecloth.

"Unacceptable," he said. "Is this how the Marricks raise their daughters?"

Liora saw her opening and slid into it, her eyes brimming on cue.

"Forgive me. This is my failure. I should have guided her better."

"She's young, and she's adored Kai for years. She got foolish and said something terrible. Let her make it right. Let her marry him. It would settle the whole misunderstanding, and she'd finally have what she's always wanted."

The Don's patience was gone. I watched him turn to her, already drawing breath to seal it.

"I won't marry him."

Four words, quiet as a safety clicking off. They cracked through the ballroom anyway.

The Don's mouth closed. Kai's head snapped up. Every eye in the hall swung my way.

"There's nothing between Kai Voss and me," I said. "There never has been."

Liora's smile held, but her voice dropped to a hiss only I could hear. "Flora. Think about your mother. Think hard."

I almost laughed.

Think of your mother.

Last time, that sentence had been a leash. I'd walked into the cellar on my own two feet for it.

And what had it bought my mother? Nothing. She was a hostage the whole time, and I was the fool who thought my silence kept her safe.

If I took the fall tonight, Liora wouldn't spare my mother. She'd just collect on both of us.

I ignored her. Her glare could have cut glass.

I turned to the Don and kept my voice steady, each word set down like a chip on felt.

"Sir, I was born sickly. When I was small, a woman my father trusted told the family I was cursed, that I'd bring ruin to the house. So they sent me upstate and left me there. I didn't come home to New York until two years ago."

I let that sit for a breath. Then I looked at Kai.

"Two years ago, Mr. Voss was running the Chicago books for the family. He wasn't in this city. He didn't come back until this winter. And since then, he's been buried in work, in meetings, in everyone's business but mine."

I smiled, small and polite.

"So tell me, Kai. When exactly did we meet?"