Chapter 1

Its getting late, and for the first time in my life, Im scared of the dark.

Outside of Average Joe Coffee House, theres a slight drizzle, obscuring the vision of New York City outside the storefront windows. Ive been working the closing shift for months. As a self-proclaimed night owl, it used to be the perfect hours, but now...well. Now, things are different, and its all because of my ex-boyfriend.

My terrifying-as-fuck ex-boyfriend, Carlo Falcone. The name alone makes me shiver, and I wrap my arms around myself to chase away the fear. It doesnt help.

The shop is empty, and the cute-but-cheesy decor is comforting at least. I like running the shop by myself when the sun is still up. I force myself to focus on the last task of the day, mopping the coffee shop floor. With a swish and a swirl, Im not sure it helps, and I glance at the clock nervously. My eyes dart over to the window, and I tell myself theres nothing to worry about. Im safe here.

Carlo wouldnt come here, right? No one wants coffee at 8:45 PM, and Ive just got 15 minutes before I can lock up, but there are still people milling about on the sidewalk at least. Maybe Carlo would try something, but not with witnesses. I swallow hard, trying to calm down, but my hands are shaking as I pick up the mop bucket, ready to take it to the back storage room.

Thats when the bell above the door jingles, and I have a moment of panic. I immediately feel bad, though, when a mom with a small child enters, both wearing matching raincoats and matching tired expressions. The little boy is almost falling asleep on his feet.

Hi, can I help you? I ask, forcing a smile.

Yes, the mom says, her tone tired. Im looking for a caffeine hit, stat. Any chance youre open for another 15 minutes?

Of course, I say, nodding. What can I get for you?

She gives me a tired smile. Coffee, black. And a bottle of water.

I nod and look at the little boy. And for you, young man?

He smiles sleepily, his eyes wide. Can I have a cookie please?

Sure, I say with a laugh and turn to get their order.

As they sit down and sip their drinks, I wonder if Im worrying too much about Carlo. What happened was so bizarre that I find myself questioning if I imagined the whole thing, but his downward spiral was undeniable. Carlo Falcone has been hitting the booze and gambling for months now. Hes lost everything hes ever worked for, and whats worse, he owes a lot to a lot of people.

I should have broken up with him months ago, but I have this awful habit of wanting to see the good in people. Ive been on this earth for twenty years now, I guess I should know better, but that damned optimism keeps rearing its adorable little head. And now, Ive got a man who I thought cared for me accusing me of stealing money out of his safe. A safe I didnt even know existed until he made the accusation.

The mother and her son leave, and I lock the doors behind them. Its 9:05, and the street is mostly empty now. My fear returns and I start to frantically clean. Once Im done, I do a walkthrough of the shop, checking the windows and the back door. Everything seems locked up tight, and theres no one loitering outside.

Calm down, Daisy, I tell myself. Youre just jumpy.

I take a deep breath. Carlo wouldnt dare come here and hurt me, would he? And what about his threats? When I broke up with him, he told me hed burn down the coffee house and make sure I watched as the place went up in flames. Would he really do that?

The truth is, I dont know. Carlo and I have been dating on and off for two months. At first, he was so charming and sweet, and our dates were fun. Then the drinking started and the gambling. I had no idea Carlo even had a gambling problem, and when he accused me of stealing the money he owed, well. That was it. The straw that broke the camels back. I had no choice but to break up with him.

That was two days ago.

My phone dings and I check it, hoping to see Carlos name pop up, telling me hes realized he made a mistake with the threats and that he’ll leave me alone. Instead, its just my boss, Jack, texting me my schedule for the following week, with a few cringey emojis attached. I’ve thought Jack might have a thing for me for a while, and he’s kicked things into high gear since he learned I broke up with Carlo. Ick.

I tuck the phone into my pocket and finish cleaning, then head to the back office. As I do the final count, double-check the alarm, and grab my purse, my fear rises. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and Im overcome with the feeling that someone, somewhere, is watching me.

I think back on those threats Carlo made and decide to pay the extra to take an Uber instead of walking home just so I can have the driver pull up right out front. Im waiting for the app to load on our sad WiFi network when I hear it.

The bells above the door. The door I locked. My blood runs cold.

Trying to hold back the panic, I think about my options. I could run out the back door, but there might be someone out there too, and instead of the brightly lit front of the store that opens into a busy street, the back door opens into the dingy, dark back alley. I could call the police, but then whoever is out there would hear me talking, and the cops wouldnt be able to get here fast enough to help.

The store isnt that big, and I can hear whoever entered shuffling around in the front. I hold my breath and listen, hoping beyond hope that Ill hear something that tells me its just a customer and that I fudged the lock on accident. But no...whoever is out there is nearly silent, and my heart rate skyrockets. Dingy back alley it is, then.

I take one step out into the hallway, and I cant help but peek towards the front to see if someone really is there. To my horror, Carlo and two other men, both tall and broad and angry-looking, are waiting on me. Carlo locks eyes with me and smirks, and I whip around, running down the hallway.

Grab her! Carlo calls.

My adrenaline kicks in, and as I burst into the alley, I can hear them pursuing me, yelling, their heavy feet hitting the floor.

I have no choice, no time. I keep running, and as soon as I reach the end of the alley, I turn right. Maybe its better to face the darkness, and maybe Im better off trying to blend in with the crowd. Carlo wont risk hurting me or firing a gun if there are witnesses, will he?

But as I round the corner, I realize its late on a Friday night in New York City. The crowds are thick, but the few people around are intoxicated, stumbling and shouting. This actually works to my advantage. I can definitely lose him in a cluster like this! I just have to find a cab and get the hell out of here.

I start running, pushing my way through the crowd, and a taxi finally appears. It slows but keeps going, and I swear, feeling frustrated.

Daisyyyyy...

Carlos voice is sickeningly close, and it makes me want to throw up.

Stop running, honey. I just wanna talk!

No, he doesnt. He wants to kill me or, at the very least, scare me. If Carlo and his friends catch me, what will he do? Will he hurt me? Kill me? And his two goons, how far will they go?

Daisyyy...

There! A cab stopped at a stoplight. Without hesitation, I dive inside, sliding down in the seat so my head isnt visible.

Drive! Drive!

The cabbie looks startled and annoyed. Where to?

Just drive!

Lady, I cant?—

I fumble in my pockets, pulling out a $20 bill. Here, just drive!

The cabbie shrugs and pulls away from the curb. You got it, kid, but $20 aint gonna get you very far.

The light changes, and the driver pulls away into traffic. Carlo didnt see me...Im sure of it. Oh, God, I actually made it! Relief floods through me, and I sit up, breathing deeply.

I gotta say, lady, youre the weirdest fare Ive had all night, the cabbie says. Whats your name, anyway?

Daisy, I tell him. And sorry, its been a strange day.

Ive had plenty of those, he tells me. Im Ed. Where am I taking you?

Give me a second.

I try to think fast, but my brain feels like its running on molasses or something. I cant go home, Carlo knows where my apartment is. I need somewhere safe, SOMEONE safe preferably, but who the hell is Carlo Falcone scared of?

Then, like a semi-truck, an idea hits me. A crazy, crazy idea. But one that just might actually work.

Il Fiore Raro.

* * *

Ive always hada good memory for silly things that dont usually matter in the long run, like the birthdays of people I barely know or the favorite perfume of a coworker I only see once a week. This time, though, my strange little habit of remembering inconsequential things might save my life.

Carlo didnt speak about his family much, if at all, but on our third date, he let a little tidbit slip. He instructed me to choose any restaurant I wanted for the evening, and when I jokingly asked if there were any that were off limits, he told me, with no humor, Il Fiore Raro.

The black-tie Italian place? I asked, curious, and it was the first time I had seen anger flash across his face.

Definitely not the last, though.

Its my Dads restaurant. Hes a fucking asshole, Daisy, and a bad man.

Any fantasies I had about meeting his family and making a killer impression withered away right then and there. Carlo never said it out loud, but it was clear to me that he didnt just hate his Dad, he feared him. It was written all over his expression. I filed that knowledge away in the random facts folder in my brain and didnt pull it out again until tonight, here in the back of this cab.

A bad man isnt exactly someone I want to deal with, not after being face to face with three obviously bad men, but I dont want to hide out and wait for Carlo to lose interest in me. I want to face this head-on and get it handled ASAP. So going up the ladder to the biggest of the bad men seems like the best thing to do. Maybe the only thing to do.

The cab driver gives me a strange look when I mention the restaurant, letting me know that I’m not exactly dressed the part to dine there, but that isnt going to change my mind. As we approach the building, I take off my coffee shop apron, rolling it up and tucking it in the back pocket of my jeans. Looking down at my thin white t-shirt, I frown, pulling as much fabric as I can to the front and tying it in a little knot, trying to give some shape to the otherwise shapeless garment. My comfortable work shoes are a lost cause, nothing I can do to hide them.

Il Fiore Raro is an old building but immaculately maintained and even in the dark, oozing a feeling of wealth and old money. It’s four stories tall, made of dark stone and brick, and a beautiful mural is painted on the wall beside the door. The name of the restaurant is scrawled in elaborate gold cursive on a small marble sign above the door. It doesnt need to be flashy. Everyone in New York knows what this place was.

The cab pulls up to the curb, and I swallow hard. Theres no turning back now.

Are you sure you want to get dropped off here, kid? Ed, the driver, asked, giving me a concerned look. Aint nothing but fancy-pants restaurants around here, and you aint looking like a fancy-pants kinda lady.

Its all right, Ill be okay, I assure him, forcing a smile. Thank you.

He nods and gives me a salute, and I slide out of the car, looking up at the building.

Okay, Daisy, you can do this, I mutter under my breath.

Its 9:45 on a Friday night, and while the lights are still burning bright, theres a good chance it might be closed or that means it might be locked, and that the chances of anyone letting me inside are slim. My heart is pounding, and I feel nauseous, but the fear of Carlo catching me is worse. This is just a restaurant. The worst they can do is turn me away.

Please be open, please be open, I chant, reaching for the handle.

To my surprise, the door opens and I walk in, blinking as I try to adjust to the darkness. I cant see much, but I can smell the delicious aroma of Italian food. The floor beneath me is dark, gold-veined marble.

Were closed.

The host spots me immediately, looking up from arranging menus behind a dark cherry wood host stand. Hes wearing a suit and is well-groomed, with a mustache and a receding hairline.

I know, Im sorry, I say, stepping forward. But I was wondering if you could help me?

Maam, as I said, were closed. You need to leave.

No, you dont understand, I say, shaking my head and feeling frustrated tears welling up in my eyes. I need your help. I need to see Mr. Falcone. Dominic Falcone.

His face doesnt change, but his eyes narrow a little. Why do you want to see him?

Please, I cant tell you, Im sorry, but I just need to see him.

The host sighs. Im sorry, maam, but as I said, were?—

Coming forward to put my hands on the host stand, I lean forward and try to keep my voice low. Tell him its about his son, Carlo Falcone.

The host stares at me for a moment, then gives a curt nod. He disappears into the dimly lit dining room, leaving me alone.

My heart is beating so fast I can hardly breathe. What if Carlo finds me here? What if Dominic wont see me? Or worse, what if he doesnt believe me? Im just a girl in a t-shirt, no makeup, and old jeans, standing in a fancy restaurant that I dont belong in. Who would take me seriously?

It only takes minutes for the host to return, and his previously stuffy expression has been replaced with something serious and heavy. Follow me, maam.

Im taken aback, surprised at his sudden change in attitude, but I follow him obediently, winding between the tables until we come to a staircase that leads upwards. Mr. Falcone is on the fourth floor in his office, he explains. This way.

He doesnt say another word, leading me up the stairs and down a hallway, stopping at the door at the end of the hall.

Wait here.

He disappears into the room, and I stand, waiting, hoping. After a moment, the door opens, and the host reappears. Go right in.

Thank you.

Good luck, he whispers, before disappearing down the hallway and leaving me alone.

I step inside the door, and the first thing that hits me is the smell. Everywhere else in this place just smells of decadent food, but this room is different. It smells masculine and rich, and the moment the smell hits my nose, my core starts to pulse.

And thats before I see the man sitting behind the desk, and the world shifts beneath my feet.

Hes different from any man Ive ever seen. Even sitting down its clear that hes enormous, shoulders and arms filling out a perfectly tailored black suit. His dark hair is parted on the side and combed back, slightly silver at the temples, the same color as the five oclock shadow on his jaw. A strong nose, thick eyebrows, and full lips make up a face thats both attractive and terrifying. But when he looks up, my breath is stolen away.

His eyes are so brown they’re almost black, but when he shifts and the light hits them just right, they seem to glow, like an animals eyes in the dark. Meeting his gaze, it feels like a tether shoots from him and connects somewhere deep inside of me, pulling me towards him helplessly. My core pulses again, and Im shocked that I can be turned on at a time like this!

Have a seat.

His voice is deep, and I obey, sinking into the chair across from him, feeling tiny and vulnerable. Hes studying me, looking me up and down, and I dont know whether I should shrink back or sit up taller.

Youre Daisy Linden.

Y-yes, I am, I manage, swallowing hard. How did you know?

He doesnt answer me. And you have something to tell me about my son?”

Yes, sir.

Dominic leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. Hes so calm, his posture relaxed, and the complete opposite of the storm thats raging inside me. Its unsettling.

What happened, Miss Linden?

Its...its a long story, I tell him. I met your son a few months ago, and we were seeing each other. Dating. We broke up, and it was fine. But I didnt realize who he really was.

Dominic raises an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his expression. And who is he, Ms. Linden?

A drunk, I sputter out, not sure if I should be more respectful considering this is Carlos father. But if I want help, I shouldnt hold anything back. A gambler and a liar. Hes convinced Ive stolen money from him, and now hes trying to kill me!

This causes the first real reaction in Dominic. Clearly what Ive said has surprised him, which I bet is pretty hard to do. His shoulders go stiff, and I hear a surprised intake of breath before he composes himself once more.

Ah, Dominic says, and for a moment, hes quiet, tapping his finger against the desk as he thinks. I can assure you that Carlo would never try to kill anyone. Hes a hothead, a spoiled child, but he wouldnt take a life.

Hes not himself, I argue. Hes not sober. Hes drunk all the time, and it makes him...

Angry. Violent. Cruel.

Its alright, Dominic says, as if sensing my discomfort. Go on.

Its just like I said, I tell him, trying not to break down into tears. Im being followed by him and his goons. They attacked me tonight. I came here because I didnt know where else to go or who else to ask for help. Hes crazy, and he wants to kill me. Please, Mr. Falcone, can you help me?

Dominic studies me, and the air is heavy and tense, as if the fate of the world is hanging in the balance, and for a moment, it feels like it is. First, why would you even think to come to me?

He told me that Il Fiore Raro is your restaurant. He hates you. I figured youre the only person he might actually be afraid of.

A flicker of something passes over his expression, and he nods, a small, slow smile forming on his lips. That is true, Miss Linden. Youve got a smart head on your shoulders. Normally, I would send you on your way and let Carlos business stay Carlos business, but I cant stand a man who dares to threaten a woman, not even my own son. Ill deal with him and his friends.

I let out a sigh of relief, a tear leaking down my cheek. Oh, thank you.

But what am I going to do with you?

Dominic stands, and his height and the size of his frame are startling. He walks around the desk, and I shrink back in the chair as he approaches, towering over me. His gaze rakes over my body, and he makes a soft humming sound.

I… I have to swallow, my mouth suddenly bone dry. I already thought of that, actually. I can work here at the restaurant for free to repay you. I have experience at a coffee shop, and I figure thats close enough, and?—

Enough, he snaps, the command in his voice making my spine go stiff and my mouth snap shut. Stand up, Ms. Linden.

With shaking legs, I obey, standing as Dominic circles around to the front of me. Before I can help you, I need to know something. Did you steal from my son, Daisy? I need the truth.

Fear starts to creep in. No! No, I swear!

Hm… To my shock, he puts a thick finger under my chin and lifts my face to look him in the eyes. He must be 64, if not taller, and the cold fear mixes with something hot and liquid in my belly. You dont look like a thief, but Ive known beautiful thieves before.

His grip shifts to cup my jaw firmly, his other hand coming behind me to cup the back of my neck in his hand, fingers resting over my pulse point. Ill ask you one more time, sweet Daisy. Did you steal from my son?

No, sir, I breathe, trying not to tremble. “I have a few thousand I’ve saved on my own from working, but it has nothing to do with Carlo.” His touch is setting me on fire, the warmth of his hands addictive. I cant read him, cant tell whats going on behind those glowing eyes.

Mmm… he hums, eyes narrowing, and I cant breathe, cant move.

I believe you, he says finally, and relief washes over me. His touch changes, going from a hold to something more gentle, and his fingers run through my hair, pulling the band from my messy ponytail. Your heart is beating like a rabbit, but it doesnt change when I ask. Youre an honest girl. Thats rare these days.

I have no idea whats happening. Hes too close, the heat and scent of his body overwhelming me. But hes still holding me, and I cant move.

But I do need a way to keep you safe, he continues, pulling his hands away and making me whimper at the loss of his touch. So, Ms. Linden, here is what is going to happen. Youre going to stay with me. In my home. Starting tonight.