Chapter 2 - The Man Who Took a Number
The door opened two inches before Sophie slammed her shoulder against it.
A shoe appeared in the gap.
“Move,” a man growled.
Sophie drove the heel of her palm against the door.
The shoe slipped.
She threw the deadbolt.
A second later, something struck the wood from outside.
Sophie stumbled backward.
Then came silence.
Not comforting silence.
Listening silence.
Her phone vibrated.
LUCA MORETTI CALLING.
She answered.
“You have ten seconds to explain why someone is opening my back door.”
“Are you locked inside?”
“Yes.”
“Stay away from the windows.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Wrong answer.”
Even terrified, Sophie surprised herself.
Luca exhaled.
“Because the men outside are not mine.”
That answer worked.
Sophie moved behind the cutting table.
“How do you know about the card?”
“Because someone was killed looking for it.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Do not touch it again.”
“I already touched it.”
“Of course you did.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Put it somewhere safe.”
“Define safe.”
A crash sounded in the alley.
Then shouting.
Then silence again.
Sophie tightened her grip on the shears.
“What happened?”
“My people happened.”
“You said they weren’t yours.”
“The men breaking in weren’t.”
Before Sophie could respond, someone knocked on the front door.
Three sharp knocks.
Luca appeared beyond the glass.
Alone.
At least visibly.
Sophie approached slowly.
He lifted both hands.
She unlocked the door but left the chain attached.
“You have one minute.”
Luca looked at the chain.
“Is that supposed to stop me?”
“No. It’s supposed to make me feel better.”
His mouth twitched.
“Then keep it.”
Sophie opened the door.
Luca stepped inside.
He looked around the shop.
No performance now.
No intimidation.
He walked directly toward the rear hall, examined the door, then crouched near the threshold.
“There.”
A thin scratch surrounded the lock.
“Professional bypass tool.”
Sophie hated that she found the statement reassuring.
“Who?”
Luca stood.
“Do you know Adrian Cross?”
“Yes.”
Everyone on Mercer Street did.
Adrian Cross ran Cross Urban Development, the company buying half the old commercial district and replacing family businesses with luxury towers.
Three months earlier, Cross representatives had offered Sophie money for her shop lease.
She refused.
They returned twice.
The third time, Adrian himself visited.
He smiled too much.
He told Sophie resistance was expensive.
She told him poor tailoring was expensive and suggested he find another suit maker.
Luca watched recognition spread across her face.
“He bought my building.”
“Probably.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“So this has nothing to do with you?”
“It has everything to do with me.”
Sophie crossed her arms.
“Then explain.”
Luca glanced toward the memory card.
“Not tonight.”
“Then leave.”
“Sophie.”
“No.”
“You almost had strangers enter through your back door.”
“And now I have a different stranger standing in my shop refusing to answer questions.”
Luca stared at her.
Then he surprised her.
“Fair.”
He took out his phone.
“Call the police.”
Sophie blinked.
“What?”
“Report the attempted break-in.”
“You want police here?”
“Yes.”
“That seems inconsistent with your reputation.”
“A lot of things about my reputation are inconsistent with reality.”
“Which things?”
“Mostly the interesting ones.”
Despite herself, Sophie almost smiled.
She did call.
Two officers arrived.
The men Luca claimed had been in the alley were gone.
The lock damage remained.
Sophie reported everything except the memory card.
She was not sure why.
Maybe because Luca’s expression when he saw it had carried something stranger than fear.
Recognition.
After the officers left, Luca offered to have someone stay outside overnight.
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“No armed men outside my shop.”
“You’d prefer the other armed men?”
“I’d prefer nobody armed.”
“That option may no longer exist.”
She hated the calm certainty in his voice.
“I’m going home.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No.”
“Then Marco will.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll follow your car.”
“No.”
Luca rubbed his jaw.
“Do you reject every sensible suggestion?”
“Only when they arrive disguised as orders.”
He looked genuinely irritated.
Good.
Sophie packed the memory card into an empty spool container and tucked it inside her apron pocket.
Luca noticed.
He said nothing.
She turned off the lights.
“You really aren’t giving it to me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because everybody wants it.”
“That’s exactly why you should give it to me.”
“No. That’s exactly why I shouldn’t give it to anybody.”
Luca watched her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“Lock the front door behind you.”
She did.
He followed her half a block before she turned.
“Stop.”
“I’m walking.”
“Behind me.”
“Coincidence.”
“At eleven at night?”
“I enjoy tailoring districts.”
Sophie sighed.
“You are impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She drove home.
A black SUV followed at a distance.
She pretended not to notice.
The next morning Sophie arrived at seven-thirty.
No broken windows.
No threatening notes.
No Luca.
She allowed herself one relieved breath.
At eight, she turned the OPEN sign.
At eight-oh-three, the first customer came in.
At eight-ten, another.
At eight-twenty, the bell rang again.
Sophie looked up.
Luca Moretti entered alone.
No bodyguards.
No sunglasses.
Same black suit.
Different tie.
Every customer froze.
Sophie stared at him.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
He looked toward the red paper-number dispenser Sophie used on busy mornings.
Then, to the astonishment of everyone present, Luca pulled a ticket.
Number 17.
He sat down.
Mrs. Alvarez, number 16, turned slowly toward Sophie.
Sophie covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Luca waited.
For twelve full minutes.
When Sophie called, “Seventeen,” he stood.
He approached the counter and placed his ticket neatly beside the pin cushion.
“You wanted me to behave like a customer.”
“I never said that.”
“You implied it aggressively.”
“What do you need altered?”
“My life, apparently.”
“Try a therapist.”
“Busy?”
“Extremely.”
“Good. Then I’ll be brief.”
He slid a folder across the counter.
Sophie did not open it.
“What’s this?”
“Information on your building sale.”
Her amusement disappeared.
“Cross?”
“Shell company. Cross controls it.”
“I knew it.”
“There’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
“Cross doesn’t only want the building.”
Luca leaned closer.
“He wants you gone before Friday.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother’s old lease contains an easement attachment affecting the entire rear parcel.”
Sophie frowned.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Most people haven’t. Cross needs it terminated to combine six properties into one development lot.”
“Then he can negotiate.”
“He tried.”
“And I said no.”
“He isn’t used to that.”
“Neither are you.”
Luca stared at her.
“Apparently I’m developing tolerance.”
Sophie opened the folder.
Property maps.
Corporate registrations.
Emails.
Photographs.
One picture showed Adrian Cross entering a restaurant with Walter Pike.
Sophie pointed.
“My customer.”
“Walter Pike was Cross’s accountant.”
“Was?”
Luca’s face changed.
“He disappeared four days ago.”
A cold wave moved through her.
“The police?”
“Missing-person report filed by his sister.”
“And the jacket?”
“Walter came to you because he knew you.”
“I’d never met him before.”
“He knew your mother.”
Sophie stopped breathing.
Luca reached into his coat and placed an old photograph on the counter.
Three people stood outside Bennett Tailoring twenty years earlier.
Sophie’s mother, Eleanor.
Walter Pike.
And a younger man Sophie immediately recognized from photographs.
Luca’s father.
Antonio Moretti.
Sophie looked up.
“What was my mother doing with your father?”
“That’s what Walter intended to tell you.”
“Intended?”
“Before he vanished.”
Her fingers tightened around the picture.
“Why does Cross want the memory card?”
“Because it likely contains financial records.”
“Of what?”
“Payments. Bribes. Fraud. Maybe enough to stop his development.”
“Maybe?”
“I haven’t seen the files.”
“Neither have I.”
Luca gave her a look.
“You opened it?”
“No.”
That was true.
She had not.
He lowered his voice.
“Good.”
Sophie looked toward the customers pretending not to listen.
“Why are you helping me?”
Luca’s expression became unreadable.
“Cross believes you’re vulnerable.”
“Meaning?”
“Single business owner. No major investors. No political connections. No security.”
“I have Mrs. Alvarez.”
From across the room, Mrs. Alvarez raised her purse.
“I have peppermints.”
Luca almost laughed.
Then he became serious.
“Cross is moving faster because I came here yesterday.”
“So you made things worse.”
“Yes.”
The direct admission disarmed her.
Luca continued.
“He’ll assume you have my protection whether you do or not.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It became yours when you found the card.”
“So what do you suggest?”
Luca’s eyes held hers.
Something about him had changed.
This was not yesterday’s powerful man expecting obedience.
He appeared almost uncomfortable.
“I have a proposal.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“Your proposals have a poor opening record.”
“This one would protect your business.”
“I’m still going with no.”
“Pretend to be my fiancée.”
Sophie stared at him.
Behind them, a spool of thread rolled off Mrs. Alvarez’s lap.
Nobody picked it up.
Sophie blinked.
“Say that again.”
“Become my fiancée.”
“You skipped pretend.”
“Pretend to become my fiancée.”
“That is somehow worse.”
“For thirty days.”
“No.”
“Publicly.”
“No.”
“Cross won’t touch you if he believes attacking your shop means attacking me.”
“You threw subtlety into the river, didn’t you?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Sophie shoved the folder back.
“No fake engagement.”
“Then Cross will keep escalating.”
“I’ll call lawyers.”
“He has lawyers.”
“I’ll call police.”
“He hasn’t committed anything you can prove.”
“I’m not marrying a criminal because another criminal is annoying me.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“I didn’t ask you to marry me.”
“You asked me to advertise intent.”
His eyes flashed with reluctant amusement.
Then the bell rang.
A man entered.
Gray coat.
Leather briefcase.
Adrian Cross.
Sophie recognized him instantly.
Adrian looked at Luca.
Then at Sophie.
Then at the photograph on the counter.
His smile vanished.
He slowly closed the shop door behind him.
“Well,” Adrian said. “This complicates things.”
Luca stepped between him and Sophie.
Adrian placed the briefcase on the counter.
“I brought Sophie a final offer.”
“No,” Sophie said.
“You haven’t opened it.”
“I’ve heard that twice today.”
Adrian ignored Luca and clicked open the case.
Inside were documents.
And a photograph.
Sophie’s heart stopped.
It showed Walter Pike tied to a chair.
Alive.
A newspaper lay across his lap.
Today’s date.
May you like
Adrian smiled.
“Now,” he said softly, “perhaps you’ll reconsider.”
