Chapter 1 - THE GIRL WHO FLEW
The first piece of crystal hit my back hard enough to make me see white.
The second one cut me.
The third made the little boy under my body scream.
“Don’t move,” I gasped. “Stay down.”
I had no idea his father was one of the most dangerous men in New York.
If I had known, maybe I still would’ve jumped.
Maybe.
Thirty seconds earlier, I’d been worrying about an overdue electric bill.
That was the funny thing about life. One second, you were wondering whether your landlord would give you another week.
The next, you were bleeding on top of a six-year-old while armed men reached inside their jackets.
My name is Emma Carter.
Twenty-eight years old.
Waitress.
Broke.
Recently dumped.
And, according to my manager, “too soft for Manhattan.”
I worked nights at Lumina, a restaurant where rich people ordered two-hundred-dollar steaks and left half of them untouched.
That night, I was carrying a silver water pitcher through the VIP section when Chloe tripped.
Her tray flipped.
Crystal glasses flew through the air.
Right toward a little boy sitting in a velvet booth.
He had messy black hair and a green plastic dinosaur in one hand.
He looked up.
He froze.
I didn’t.
I dropped the pitcher and ran.
Three steps.
Then I threw myself over him.
Glass exploded across my shoulders.
Wine soaked through my uniform.
Something sharp buried itself near my shoulder blade.
The boy grabbed my shirt.
“Miss?”
“I’m okay.”
I absolutely was not okay.
Then a man’s voice cut through the panic.
“Leo!”
Everybody stopped.
Not slowed down.
Stopped.
A man pushed through the crowd and dropped beside us.
He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everything in my apartment combined.
Dark hair.
Hard jaw.
Scar along his left cheek.
Black eyes that looked capable of turning a room cold.
“Leo.”
“I’m okay, Papa.”
Papa.
My stomach dropped.
The man looked at me.
Then at the glass sticking out of my back.
“You protected him.”
It wasn’t a question.
“He’s a kid.”
Something flashed across his face.
Confusion, maybe.
Like nobody in his world did things for free.
“Who are you?”
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
I hesitated.
That made two men behind him move closer.
“Carter,” I said quickly. “Emma Carter.”
The little boy reached up and touched my cheek.
“She flew, Papa.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, my knees gave out.
The man caught me.
His hand went around my waist.
“Ambulance,” someone shouted.
“No.”
His voice was calm.
Terrifyingly calm.
He looked at one of his men.
“Bring the doctor.”
“Sir—”
“Now.”
I stared at him.
“I need a hospital.”
“You’ll get medical care.”
“That’s not what I said.”
For the first time, one corner of his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
“I heard you.”
“Then put me down.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to tell me no.”
The whole room went silent again.
One of his men actually looked shocked.
I was too dizzy to care.
The stranger studied my face.
Then he said, “Apparently, you don’t know who I am.”
“No.”
His expression changed.
Almost amused.
“That may be the first lucky thing that’s happened to you tonight.”
My manager came rushing over.
“Mr. Moretti, I am so incredibly sorry—”
Moretti.
The name slammed into me.
Everybody in New York had heard it.
Adrian Moretti.
Hotels.
Construction.
Nightclubs.
Rumors about organized crime.
Investigations that disappeared.
Witnesses who changed their stories.
Men who crossed him and suddenly moved to other countries.
Or vanished.
I looked up at the man holding me.
“Oh, hell.”
His eyes darkened.
“You’ve heard of me.”
“Put me down.”
“Emma.”
“Put. Me. Down.”
Then one of his security men approached fast.
“Boss.”
Adrian’s entire body changed.
“What?”
The man leaned close and whispered something.
I only caught four words.
“This wasn’t an accident.”
Adrian looked at the broken glasses.
Then at his son.
Then at me.
And when his eyes came back to mine, they were no longer humanly warm.
“Lock the doors.”
I stopped breathing.
“What’s happening?”
May you like
His arm tightened around me.
“Someone just tried to kill my son.”
