Chapter 1 - THE NIGHT I STOPPED BEING INVISIBLE
The first glass shattered against my back before I even heard the boy scream.
Pain ripped through my shoulder.
Then another glass hit.
And another.
I locked both arms around the five-year-old beneath me and pressed his face against my chest.
“Stay down!”
He was crying.
“I want my papa!”
“I know, sweetheart. Don’t move.”
Crystal exploded around us.
Champagne soaked through my black waitress uniform.
Something sharp tore into the back of my neck.
Something warmer followed.
Blood.
Mine.
The restaurant erupted.
People screamed.
Chairs scraped across marble.
Someone shouted for security.
But I didn’t move until the last piece of glass stopped falling.
Then a voice came from directly behind me.
Low.
Calm.
Terrifying.
“Don’t touch her.”
Every person in Aurelio’s seemed to freeze.
I knew that voice.
Everybody in Chicago knew that voice.
Dante Moretti.
The man newspapers called a businessman because calling him anything else required courage, evidence, and probably a bodyguard.
His five-year-old son Matteo was beneath me.
And I had just thrown myself between that child and a storm of broken crystal.
“Matteo.”
For the first time, Dante’s famous control cracked.
“Look at me, son.”
Matteo crawled out from beneath me.
His dark curls were wet with champagne.
His face was pale.
But there wasn’t a cut on him.
“Papa!”
Dante dropped to one knee and pulled him against his chest.
For three seconds, he wasn’t the man people whispered about.
He was just a terrified father.
Then Matteo pointed at me.
“She saved me.”
Dante looked up.
Our eyes met.
That was when I realized I had made a terrible mistake.
Not saving Matteo.
I would do that again.
My mistake was letting Dante Moretti see my face.
My name was Elena Ramirez.
Twenty-eight years old.
Waitress.
Broke.
Alone.
And very good at being forgettable.
Until that night.
Dante’s gaze dropped to my shoulder.
A piece of crystal was sticking through my uniform.
His expression changed.
Not panic.
Rage.
Cold, silent rage.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
One of his men stared at me like I had lost my mind.
Apparently, sarcasm wasn’t common around mafia bosses.
I tried standing.
The room tilted.
Dante caught me by the arm.
“Easy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have glass in your back.”
“I’ve had worse Tuesdays.”
His eyebrow lifted.
It was actually Thursday.
I was too dizzy to care.
A paramedic rushed through the crowd.
“Ma’am, don’t move.”
“I have a shift.”
The paramedic blinked.
Dante stared at me.
“You’re worried about your shift?”
“I need my job.”
“You just saved my son.”
“That doesn’t pay my rent.”
For half a second, I thought I had crossed some invisible line.
Then something almost like amusement touched Dante’s face.
“You argue while you’re bleeding.”
“It’s cheaper than therapy.”
Matteo appeared beside the stretcher as the paramedics helped me onto it.
He held out his little red toy car.
“Take it.”
I shook my head.
“That’s yours.”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Then definitely keep it.”
His bottom lip trembled.
“You saved me.”
Damn it.
I took the car.
“I’ll guard it with my life.”
Matteo smiled.
Dante didn’t.
He was staring toward the far side of the restaurant.
At a man near the bar.
A man who had been filming the entire thing on his phone.
Dante’s jaw hardened.
He leaned toward one of his guards.
“Get that video.”
The man disappeared into the crowd.
Something cold crawled up my spine.
Dante looked back at me.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Eight months.”
“Anyone know where you live?”
“People generally do.”
“That wasn’t a joke.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
His eyes moved toward the exits.
“Because everyone in this room just watched you save my son.”
“So?”
“So my enemies watched too.”
The pain in my back suddenly felt small.
I stared at him.
“You think somebody would come after me?”
“I know they would.”
The paramedic began closing the ambulance doors.
Relief flickered through me.
Hospital.
Stitches.
Home.
Normal life.
Then Dante put his hand against the door.
“Where are you taking her?”
“Mercy Hospital.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“No.”
Dante slowly looked at me.
“No?”
“I saved your son. Great. We’re even.”
His expression became unreadable.
“Elena, people who want leverage against me now know your face.”
“I’m not leverage.”
“You became leverage the second Matteo said your name.”
My stomach dropped.
The ambulance doors started closing again.
Dante stopped them one last time.
“After the hospital, you’re coming with me.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re insane.”
“No.”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“I’m keeping you alive.”
The doors slammed shut.
As the ambulance pulled away, I stared at Matteo’s little red car in my hand.
For twenty-eight years, nobody important had noticed me.
Now the most dangerous man in Chicago knew my name.
And apparently, so did his enemies.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One text.
May you like
You should have let the boy bleed.
I stopped breathing.
