Chapter 1 - The Woman Behind the Glass
Ara leaned across Leo Rossi's desk and whispered:
"I'm leaving at six tonight."
When the most feared crime boss on the waterfront looked up, he noticed the small black leather notebook tucked beneath her folder.
One line was visible on the open page:
"7:30 p.m. — Laura."
Leo suddenly realized this wasn't a business appointment.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Ara Valenti stood on the opposite side of the massive desk with one hand resting on a leather folder. She was twenty-nine, composed almost to the point of severity, with dark brown hair normally pinned at the nape of her neck and pale hazel eyes that had stared down accountants, lawyers, union officials, and armed men without blinking.
Tonight, however, something about her was different.
Maybe it was simply that she intended to leave.
Leo glanced at the clock.
5:48.
"You have twelve minutes," he said.
"I know."
"The meeting with Carmine starts at seven."
"The ledgers are in your top-left drawer."
"I need you there."
"No, you need the numbers there."
His eyes narrowed.
People did not correct Leo Rossi.
At thirty-nine, Leo controlled businesses stretching from legitimate shipping companies to operations no prosecutor had ever successfully connected to him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and built more like a heavyweight fighter than a businessman. Dark wavy hair fell slightly over his forehead, and a short beard sharpened an already severe face.
Men twice Ara's size became careful around him.
Ara simply checked her silver watch.
Leo hated that watch.
Not because it was expensive. It wasn't.
He hated it because whenever Ara looked at it, she reminded him there existed a world beyond his schedule.
"What's so important?" he asked.
Ara lifted her eyes.
"Personal appointment."
"With whom?"
"Personal means personal, Mr. Rossi."
There it was again.
Mr. Rossi.
Five years working beside him, and she still maintained that invisible line.
Leo leaned back.
"Fine."
Ara's expression revealed nothing.
"Good night."
She picked up her tote.
Leo watched her walk away.
He told himself the irritation tightening his chest concerned Carmine.
It did not.
At seven, five capos gathered around the boardroom table.
By seven fifteen, Leo wanted to kill three of them.
Carmine Bellucci complained about sanitation contracts while another capo argued about shipping costs. Normally Leo could dissect lies without effort.
Tonight, his concentration kept drifting toward the empty chair where Ara usually sat.
"Fuel is killing us," Carmine insisted.
Leo opened the folder Ara had prepared.
Yellow highlighting covered several figures.
PAGE 4 — FUEL SURCHARGES.
Leo turned to page four.
"You reported a twenty-percent increase."
Carmine hesitated.
"That's right."
"City average is six."
Silence.
Leo looked up.
"Where's my fourteen percent?"
Carmine's face changed.
Nobody spoke.
Leo closed the folder.
"Bring me corrected books tomorrow."
"Leo—"
"Tomorrow."
Carmine swallowed.
"Understood."
The meeting ended eighteen minutes early.
Leo returned to his office.
Ara's desk sat empty.
He tried making coffee himself.
The espresso machine hissed at him.
Leo stared at it as though it had personally insulted him.
One bodyguard, Marco DeLuca, appeared in the doorway.
"Problem?"
Leo pointed at the machine.
Marco examined it.
"I don't know how that works."
"Get out."
Marco disappeared.
Leo's gaze moved toward Ara's desk.
He saw the notebook.
She had forgotten it.
He should have ignored it.
Instead, he opened it.
Most pages contained schedules and reminders.
Near the back were personal notes.
Cat food.
Dry cleaning.
Call landlord.
Then:
7:30 — Laura.
Leo knew Laura.
It was an intimate restaurant in the West Village.
He checked the time.
7:22.
He closed the notebook.
For exactly forty seconds, Leo attempted to convince himself that Ara's private life was none of his concern.
At 7:23, he grabbed his jacket.
Marco was waiting near the elevator.
"Where are we going?"
"Out."
"Where?"
Leo gave him a look.
Marco pressed the elevator button.
Seven minutes later, their black SUV stopped one block from Laura.
Leo got out.
Marco and another guard followed.
"What are we doing here?" Marco asked.
"Dinner."
Marco glanced at Leo's expression.
"Are we?"
Leo ignored him.
He walked toward the restaurant.
Then he saw her.
Ara sat beside the window.
Her hair was down.
Leo had almost never seen it that way.
Soft waves rested over her shoulders. Instead of her gray office blazer, she wore a deep-red satin dress.
She was smiling.
That stopped him harder than anything else.
Ara smiled at work occasionally, but those smiles were controlled acknowledgments.
This was different.
Warm.
Open.
Real.
A man sat opposite her.
Early thirties.
Dark hair.
Navy suit.
Expensive watch.
A bouquet of red roses stood between them.
Leo stopped.
Marco almost collided with his shoulder.
"Boss?"
Leo didn't answer.
Inside, the man said something.
Ara laughed.
Then she reached across the table.
The man's hand closed around hers.
Leo's fist tightened.
Marco noticed.
So did the second bodyguard.
Neither spoke.
Leo stared through the glass.
He told himself he was evaluating a potential security problem.
That was lie number one.
He told himself Ara knew too much about his organization to date strangers without vetting them.
Lie number two.
He told himself the man might be dangerous.
Lie number three.
The truth was humiliatingly simple.
Leo hated him.
He hated the man's hand around Ara's.
He hated the roses.
He hated Ara's smile most of all because he had never caused one like it.
The stranger leaned closer.
Ara listened.
Leo took one step toward the entrance.
Marco quietly said, "Boss."
Leo stopped.
"What?"
"Whatever you're thinking..."
Leo slowly turned his head.
Marco reconsidered.
"Nothing."
Leo looked back through the window.
Ara suddenly withdrew her hand.
Her smile disappeared.
The man said something else.
Ara's posture stiffened.
Leo's anger changed instantly.
He knew her signals.
Her left shoulder had moved slightly backward.
Her chin had lowered.
Ara wasn't comfortable anymore.
Leo stepped closer to the window.
The stranger removed a small envelope from his jacket.
He slid it across the table.
Ara stared at it.
She didn't touch it.
The man pushed it closer.
Ara finally opened the envelope.
Leo could see photographs inside.
Her face lost color.
That was enough.
He entered.
The restaurant host approached.
"Good evening, sir. Do you have a—"
Leo walked past him.
Marco whispered an apology.
Ara looked up.
Shock crossed her face.
"Mr. Rossi?"
The stranger turned.
Leo stopped beside their table.
Up close, the roses seemed even more offensive.
"You're interrupting," the man said.
Leo looked at him.
"Am I?"
Ara immediately stood.
"What are you doing here?"
Leo looked at the photographs.
"Having dinner."
Ara glanced at the empty space where his dinner presumably existed.
"Of course."
The stranger extended a hand.
"Daniel Mercer."
Leo did not take it.
Daniel lowered his hand.
"I've heard about you."
"I haven't heard about you."
"That's probably healthier."
Marco subtly shifted behind Leo.
Ara stepped between them.
"Mr. Rossi, leave."
That surprised everyone.
Leo's expression hardened.
"Excuse me?"
"This is private."
Daniel smiled faintly.
Leo wanted to remove that smile permanently.
Instead, he looked at Ara.
"Are you in trouble?"
"No."
"Then why do you look afraid?"
"I'm not."
Another lie.
Leo looked at the envelope.
"What did he show you?"
Ara covered the photographs.
"Nothing concerning you."
Daniel leaned back.
"Actually, Mr. Rossi, that's where she's wrong."
Ara's head snapped toward him.
"Daniel."
Leo became still.
Daniel lifted one photograph.
Ara tried taking it.
Too late.
Leo saw the image.
It showed Ara's father.
Leo recognized him from a photograph once kept on her desk.
Standing beside Ara's father was another man.
Leo's late father.
Vittorio Rossi.
Leo stared.
The photograph appeared to be at least twenty years old.
"What is this?"
Ara said nothing.
Daniel placed it down.
"Ask her."
Leo looked at Ara.
"You knew?"
"No."
"Why is my father standing beside yours?"
"I don't know."
Daniel interrupted.
"Because their families knew each other long before Ara became your assistant."
Ara closed her eyes.
"Stop."
Leo's jealousy vanished.
Something colder replaced it.
"How long have you known this?"
"I didn't."
"Why meet him secretly?"
"Because he contacted me this morning."
Daniel produced another photograph.
This one showed a warehouse.
A date had been handwritten beneath it.
November 14, 2003.
Leo remembered that date.
His father had disappeared for forty-eight hours that weekend.
Nobody ever explained why.
Daniel leaned forward.
"Ara didn't come here for romance."
Leo glanced at their joined hands.
Daniel followed his gaze.
"That was for whoever might be watching."
Leo's eyes narrowed.
Ara whispered, "Daniel believed I was being followed."
"You were."
Her head snapped toward him.
"By whom?"
"Me."
Despite everything, disbelief crossed her face.
"You followed me?"
"Technically, Marco followed you."
Marco looked offended.
"Boss."
Leo ignored him.
Ara's expression became furious.
"You had your security team follow me to dinner?"
"I was concerned."
"You were jealous."
Daniel almost laughed.
Leo turned toward him.
Daniel stopped.
Ara folded her arms.
"You had absolutely no right."
"No."
The admission silenced her.
Leo continued.
"But someone gave you photographs connecting our fathers. That means tonight stopped being personal."
Daniel reached for the envelope.
Leo caught his wrist.
"Leave it."
Daniel's expression hardened.
"I don't work for you."
"Everybody says that eventually."
"Mr. Rossi," Ara warned.
Leo released him.
Daniel rubbed his wrist.
"There is more."
He reached inside his jacket.
Marco's hand moved toward his own coat.
Daniel froze.
"Paper."
"Slowly," Marco said.
Daniel removed a folded document.
He handed it to Ara.
She opened it.
Leo watched her eyes move across the page.
Then stop.
"What?" he demanded.
Ara didn't answer.
Leo took the document.
It was an employment record.
His company.
ROSSI MARITIME HOLDINGS.
Employee: Ara Valenti.
But the date was wrong.
The document had been prepared seven years before Ara ever applied for the job.
Leo read it twice.
"This is impossible."
Ara whispered, "I was still in college."
At the bottom was an authorization signature.
Vittorio Rossi.
Leo's dead father had apparently approved Ara's employment years before Leo had ever met her.
Daniel quietly said, "Now you understand why I called her."
Leo stared at the signature.
His father had been dead for nine years.
Ara had worked for Leo for five.
Nothing aligned.
"Where did you get this?"
Daniel glanced toward the restaurant entrance.
His face changed.
Leo followed his gaze.
A man had entered.
Gray coat.
Mid-sixties.
He looked directly at their table.
Ara's breathing stopped.
She whispered one word.
"Dad?"
Leo looked at her.
Ara's father was supposed to have been dead for eleven years.
May you like
The older man began walking toward them.
And in his hand was another photograph.
