Why do I feel an extremely unfounded need to console this woman? She has me completely perplexed, and I’m dying to touch every part of her. I rock back in my chair and latch my hands behind my head. “Hasn’t she been hurt enough? She doesn’t need a man like me who will only use her for my own pleasure.”

  Exhaling, I stand, take my glass with me, and hook the decanter with one finger as I move to the balcony. Occasional drops of rain ping my face as if they’re trying to get my attention. How did I let myself get sucked into this life? I have no family other than the evil bloodline I belong to, who I’m working for. Long gone are the days I dreamed of anything for myself. The only legit thing I do is the properties I buy and sell on the side without my father’s knowledge. I’m a prisoner in my own world.

  3

  Noa

  I’m exhausted, but when I cross the sidewalk and see the architect's building, I have to stop. Shaking out the umbrella, I rest it against the stuccoed wall before I open the door and take the elevator to the third floor. I’m greeted by a secretary in a tight pencil skirt with an equally snug bun on top of her head.

  “I’m sorry, but the office is closed,” she says, grabbing her Coach purse and slinging it over her shoulder.

  I see the light on under his door. “Can you just poke your head in his office and tell him Noa Sutton is here to see him?” I point to his door.

  She lets out an annoyed sound from her lips, and her heels clack quickly on the tile floor, lightly knocking prior to opening his door.

  “There’s someone named Noa here to see you. I told her the office was closed, but she insisted I let you know.”

  “Noa!” His voice rises in excitement, and I hear his chair roll over the wood floor. Within seconds he’s holding his arms out. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I walk into his embrace. “It’s been a while,” I mutter.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” his secretary says, raking her eyes over him like a jealous woman before she stomps out of the office.

  “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” I laugh. “Have you ever thought about hiring a staff member you didn’t want to sleep with?”

  “What would be the fun in that?” He chuckles and walks me into his office, where I sink into his plush leather couch.

  Kip Oliver and my husband were best friends in college, and any trouble Drake got into could always be traced back to Kip, but he truly loved him like a brother.

  He joins me on the couch and props his arm over the back. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Some days.” I lift a shoulder.

  “You hate New York. What are you doing here, and why didn’t you let me know you were coming to the city?”

  “Sofia beckoned me.” I sigh. “There’s some business I need to handle, and she felt like she needed to see me in person.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “It’s financial stuff. Evidently, without my knowledge, Drake borrowed money from investors over and above the bank loan.”

  “Yeah.” He leans forward on the couch, rubbing his hands together. “He came to me needing money the second year he opened to keep things afloat.”

  “Oh thank God it’s you he owes money to.” Relief washes over me.

  “Not exactly. I was just making a name for myself, and every penny I had earned, I sank into my architectural firm. But I did introduce him to a real estate investor of sorts.” He mumbles the last part.

  “Of sorts? What does that mean?” The look of concern on his face is making me nervous.

  He abruptly stands and paces in front of me. “I should’ve done more research into the company before I ever suggested he do business with them. I’ve had nothing but regret for recommending them to Drake.”

  “Why?” I reach out and touch his hand.

  He sits and draws a leg up between us. “Have you ever heard of the Leone family?”

  I shake my head.

  “They operate under the guise of real estate investors.” He runs a hand through his thick hair.

  “What are they really?” My lip trembles.

  “The best way I know to describe them is a mob family operating organized crime.”

  I hop to my feet. “This is who I owe money to?” The pitch in my voice raises several octaves.

  “As long as you pay them what you owe them, there won’t be an issue.” He gets to his feet and braces his hands on my shoulder.

  “The restaurant is doing well, but we can’t come up with the amount of money they are demanding. According to the contract Drake signed, the money wouldn’t be due for another five years, but there was a clause in the fine print stating they could call it due at any time they saw fit.”

  “Let me handle it. I’ll negotiate with them. Perhaps they’ll commit to monthly payments until it’s paid in full.”

  “You really think you can negotiate with a mafia family?”

  “I’ll try. I got you into this mess, and I’ll do my damndest to get you out of it. I owe it to Drake. I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would have never introduced him to Nick Leone.”

  “I can’t be angry with you. You were only trying to help my husband.”

  “Are you staying with Sofia while you’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long will you be in town? I’d love to take the two of you out to dinner.”

  “I was planning on leaving tomorrow, but with this news, I need to stick around until it’s worked out. I’m going to set up a meeting with them.”

  “Please don’t. Let me try to handle it first. I don’t want you any more involved with them than you already are. Give me a week.”

  “Alright, as long as you keep me posted.”

  “I will. I promise.” He walks me to the door. “Have you been by the apartment?”

  “No. But I’ve decided to sell it. I will never live there again, and it’s a constant reminder of what happened the night Drake died.”

  “I can handle that for you, too, if you’d like.”

  “I need to do it by myself. Perhaps it will give me closure.” I hug him.

  “I’ll call you, and I was serious about dinner.”

  “Thanks, Kip,” I tell him and take the elevator to the ground floor.

  The doorman at Sofia’s apartment building recognizes me and lets me through the double doors and rides with me up the elevator to the fifth floor, and unlocks her door for me.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy your visit, Mrs. Sutton.”

  Sofia’s place is modest and scantly decorated. She’d rather spend her money on clothes and a fine bottle of wine than decor. She’s three years older than me but far wiser when it comes to business, graduating at the top of her class from Boston College in Hotel and Restaurant Management. Sofia introduced Drake and me during our freshmen year. She met him in one of the lecture halls and knew we’d be perfect together, and I couldn’t argue with her from the first minute I laid eyes on him. He was of French and Italian descent, just like me. His skin was a beautiful shade of olive, and his hair was the blackest I’d ever seen. I found him to be very sexy and motivated. He saw an opportunity in things that others didn’t, and he’d jump on it with everything he had to make it a reality. I loved that about him and the fact that he always made me laugh.

  We married shortly after we graduated college, and I never regretted it for a moment. That’s not to say we didn’t struggle, we did, but we did it together. We were apart a lot once he bought the restaurant because he needed to be there all the time, and my job required me to travel. We never went a day without talking to one another before we went to bed. I thought we told each other everything, but apparently, I was wrong. He never let on that the restaurant was in any kind of financial trouble. I trusted him fully with everything. There was a moment I was concerned when he wanted to hire my sister as the manager. Not because she wasn’t totally qualified, I just was concerned about the two of them working together. What if they didn’t end up getting along or didn’t see eye to eye? I didn’t want it to affect our relationship. That fear subsided quickly. She was the perfect match for his personality. He adored her, and she him.

  Opening the door to her guest room, I see my suitcase the airline delivered and unzip it, taking out a pair of pajamas. Stepping into the bathroom, I slide the shower door open and turn on the hot water. Peeling out of my clothes, I let the water soak away my day, recalling my conversation with Kip and then to the handsome stranger in the restaurant. Why did I agree to have breakfast with him? Because he was entrancing? Perhaps I need a fling to help me move on. His confidence was sexy, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve had sex. In fact, Drake was the only man I’d ever slept with, and I thought he’d be my one and only.

  “Are you in here? I hear the shower running,” Sofia’s voice rings out.

  “You’re home,” I say, peeking through the door.

  “I brought you a bottle of wine. I figured you could use it. Did you go by the apartment?”

  “No. I’ll face that one tomorrow. I did stop by and see Kip and told him about the loan. You won’t believe who the money is owed to.”

  “Who?” She leans against the sink.

  “Do you know who the Leone family is?”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “They are a mob family. Kip is the one that introduced them. He had no idea at the time what he’d gotten Drake into.”

  “You’re kidding me,” she gasps. “That’s who’s calling in the loan?” She opens the shower door.

  I snag a towel from a hook and turn off the water. “Kip is going to try and negotiate a deal with them so that we can pay them back each month.”

  “Do you think that’s going to work? A family like the Leones don’t usually change their minds.”

  I step out of the shower, and she hands me a glass filled to the brim with wine. “We’re going to find out.”

  “Does that mean you’re staying for a bit?”

  “Yes. I’m not leaving you to deal with it. If he can’t work something out, I’ll be forced to sell the restaurant.”

  “Maybe I could take out a personal loan and buy it myself. I love The Italian Oven, and I’d hate for anyone else to own it.”

  “And I’d love for it to be yours.”

  “I’ll contact my bank and see what they’d be willing to loan me. I’ve saved a lot of money, and I’m sure between the two, I can afford it. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? It will give you the money you need to pay off the debt, and you’ll still be able to keep a piece of Drake.”

  I press my lips to the glass, sipping the wine. “This is just what I needed to relax. It’s been a really long day, and I want nothing more than to lay my head on a pillow.”

  “I was hoping we could stay up late and catch up.”

  After drying, I slip on my pajamas, and she follows me out of the bathroom. “Can I take a rain check until tomorrow?” I ask through a wide yawn and stretch my arms.

  “You never were one to stay up late,” she snorts. “I’ve always been the night owl. How did sisters get to be so different?”

  “Because you were always more of a handful than me.” I laugh. “Mom and Dad tried to rein you in, but you were their wild child.”

  “You’re welcome because it took the attention off of you, and I don’t think you could complain because you were Daddy’s favorite.”

  “You know that’s not true. He adores you.”

  “Now, perhaps, but you had him wrapped around your little finger. All you had to do was bat your caramel eyes that matched his, and he’d hand you his credit card.”

  “He did spoil me,” I snicker.

  “I couldn’t bring home anyone that he approved of, and the minute he met Drake, he fell in love with him as much as you did.”

  “You’re the one that introduced us. Why didn’t you ever date him?”

  “He was handsome and all, but I knew the second I met him he was meant for you and no one else.”

  I plop on the edge of the bed. “I miss him.”

  She sits beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I know you do. So do I. And as much as I know you loved him, it’s time to move on. He’d want you to find someone else and be happy.”

  “I’d settle for a night of hot sex.” I smirk.

  “That would be a start,” she murmurs.

  I don’t share with her that I’m having breakfast with a complete stranger in the morning because it will probably turn out to be nothing. I’ll chicken out with thoughts of Drake scrambling in my head.

  She stands, and I crawl under the covers. “I’m shorthanded in the afternoon behind the bar. What do you say to helping out like you used to?”

  “I think it might be fun.”

  “Good, I’ll tell Bruno you’ll be there by two. He’s taking Gia to her first OB appointment.”

  “She’s pregnant?” I yip, filled with warmth for the two of them.

  “Yes, and they are so excited. He’s going to be a great dad.”

  “Thank you for handling things for me when I couldn’t.” I curl on my side.

  She walks to the door and flips off the light. “Get some rest. I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

  “Good night.”

  4

  Noa

  What was I thinking? Why did I agree to meet him, and why didn’t I just not show up? I ask myself all these things entering the empty, greasy diner. And for heaven’s sake, why did I choose this place? Drake and I used to eat here on Sunday mornings when I was in town. He’d get out of bed early and go to the restaurant, get things started, and then come here to have breakfast with me. I cherished our Sundays together. We’d sit across from one another, hold hands and talk about anything and everything under the sun and what our future looked like together.

  “I can’t do this,” I mumble and spin on my heels, only to find myself plowing into someone’s chest.

  “Leaving so soon?” Ever is looking down on me, and I have to catch my breath from staring into his emerald eyes.

  “The place is empty. I thought it was closed,” I lie, wanting an excuse to leave.

  He takes my elbow and guides me to a booth. “It’s empty because that’s the way I wanted it,” he says.

  “Do you always get what you want?” I frown at him from my seat, and he slides in the other side of the booth.

  “Most of the time, when it comes to things money can buy.” He eases one shoulder higher than the other.

  I study him for a long moment. He’s by far the most captivatingly handsome man I’ve ever met. His polished suit is gone, and he’s rocking a gray-blue pullover, a pair of jeans, and he doesn’t appear to have shaved this morning. The sight of him makes my toes curl.

  He shoots me a wickedly sexy, lopsided grin like he’s keenly aware of me checking him out. “You look radiant,” he states.

  I mash my lips together and rub my hands down my skinny jean-clad thighs. “What do you want from me?”

  “Breakfast with you to start.” He waves the lone waitress over to our table. “I’ll have a black cup of coffee.”

  “And you, miss?” she asks.

  “I thought you wanted something to eat?”

  “Coffee is my choice of breakfast foods.”

  I typically only have a piece of avocado toast, but if breakfast with me is what he wants, then that’s what he’s going to get. “I’ll have three eggs over medium, hash browns, bacon, rye toast, and a glass of orange juice with ice.”

  She scribbles on her pad of paper. “Anything else?”

  “A stack of pancakes, oh, and coffee loaded with cream and sugar.”

  The waitress walks away, and he bursts out laughing. “There is no way you can eat that much food.”

  Challenge taken, and I’m sure I’m going to pay for it later. “Watch me.”

  He rubs his hands together. “I can hardly wait to see this. Are you going to use this opportunity to critique their food?”

  I bite the corner of my mouth. “You googled me.”

  “I did.”

  “For your information, I’ve eaten here many times before, and I don’t rate the food of places I frequent.”

  He rests back against the booth. “Including The Italian Oven? I believe I read an article about you raving over the stuffed mushrooms that you were devouring yesterday.”

  “You were watching me?”

  “As you were me.”

  He’s right. I was, but I want to deny it.

  “I’d have to be blind not to notice a woman like you.”

  “A woman like me,” I repeat his words back to him. In my mind, I was off-kilter yesterday being back in Manhattan, overwhelmed with sorrow. What the heck could he have seen in me other than a mess? Perhaps the damsel in distress look appeals to him.

  “When you reappeared with your sister, you’d been crying.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “I haven’t been back in the restaurant since I left Manhattan. There was a picture of my husband and me on his…her office wall.” Why do I feel the need to explain myself to him?

  “That must have been very difficult. I’m sorry for your loss.” A genuine expression of sadness fills the crevices of his eyes. “I recall reading an article about his death. How long ago was it?”

  “Two years.”

  The waitress brings our drinks to the table. “Your food will be out shortly,” she states and returns to the kitchen.

  “Did they ever catch his killers?”

  “No.” I drop my gaze to my lap.

  “Are you here on business or pleasure?” His tone changes to something much lighter.

  “Business, and I’ll be returning to Essex as soon as it’s finished. I’m sure you searched where I was from too.” I look him point-blank in the eyes.

  “Do you not like Manhattan?”

  “There are a lot of bad memories here. Some good ones, too, but the bad outweighs the good.”

  “I’d like to alter that for you.”

  The waitress lays a plate of food in front of me. I don’t think I can eat it, but I force myself to pick up my fork and push it around my plate. “You’re obviously a very handsome, well-to-do man, and you could entertain a multitude of women. So, I’ll ask you again, what do you want from me?”

 

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