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“I know exactly what you mean,” I say fervently, thinking of Mr. Fonelli. “Anyway, there’s no rush.” I smile, hoping I don’t look too eager.

We finish our meal soon after and then we catch a cab back uptown. As much as I want to haul Natalie into bed and find out if she tastes as good as she looks, I restrain myself when we arrive back at her building, and she hesitantly invites me up “for coffee.” Playing hard to get seems to be her M.O., so I’d like her to see how it feels. I don’t even bother to lean in for a kiss, waving my goodbye from the taxi window instead.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. But I’ll be in touch soon.”

As the cab drives off, I let out a frustrated groan that makes the cabbie eye me in the rearview with alarm. Whatisit about this woman that drives me to such extremes just to hold her attention? I pride myself on reading people, on getting them to let their guard down so I can learn their desires and drive our interactions.

But Natalie Moreau? The only thing I really learned about her tonight was that she’s a sucker for the Real Housewives.

And that she genuinely likes to help people. I learned that, too.

I chuckle under my breath, marveling at this novel experience. Perhaps I’ve finally met my match. The thought sends an unexpected thrill through me.

Oh, Idolove a challenge. They’re so rare.

And I always get what I want in the end. Natalie Moreau will be no exception.

CHAPTER13

NATALIE

The fluorescent lights of the briefing room cast everything in a cold, clinical glow as I take my usual seat at the table, surveying the team gathered for our morning debrief after my date with Alessa last night. O’Conner taps away on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen, while Chang sips a frou-frou Starbucks, her foot jiggling with pent-up energy.

Bell stands at the head of the table as usual, fingers laced together as he begins the meeting. “Miller’s outing with Miss de Luca last night.” His tone is crisp and businesslike as always. “I take it you all read her report last night.” Everyone nods. “Discuss.”

Their cynical faces already say it all: they don’t buy into the seemingly altruistic side of Alessa that I witnessed.

“Really, though? Asoup kitchen?” Chang snorts. “She’s probably just doing it for appearances.”

“Or laundering money through a charity,” Patrick chimes in.

I can’t help but bristle at their insinuations. “We know that de Luca is heavily involved in charity work. It’s not exactly a surprise. And all I’m saying is, she seemed genuinely invested in helping the people at the soup kitchen. I was there with her, and I saw how she interacted with everyone.”

“Of course she impressed you, Miller,” Rish Khalil sighs. “That’s what con artists do. They make you believe they’re good people so you’ll let your guard down. Then she asked for another hundred thousand dollars to join her exclusive little club. Right?”

“Right, but…” My thoughts drift to the way Alessa’s eyes lit up when that little girl ran over to hug her last night. How the cook’s face softened into a smile at the sight of Alessa rolling up her sleeves to pitch in.

It wasn’t for show.

Alessacares.

I turn to Kris Hays. “Hays, what do you think?”

She raises an eyebrow, looking up from her papers. “What do I think? I think many career criminals like to make themselves feel better by making charitable contributions. And we know the Mafia have strong religious ties. It helps bind them together, along with all the murder and misery.”

My shoulders slump a little. So Hays thinks the same as everyone else. “Wright?”

Sam Wright just shakes his head.

And before I spent so much time with her, I would have seen Alessa de Luca in black-and-white terms, too. I would have been nodding along, feeling morally superior—

“I don’t give a good goddamn about the charity bullshit,” Bell snaps. “That’s not our concern.Weneed to be sure Miller gets that membership. Standards and Ethics will have to approve the fee expenditure, and I’ll speak to the SAC about signing off. It’s a large amount, but well worth it for this kind of access. This is what we’ve been working toward, people.”

Everyone murmurs agreement, and Bell studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge my thoughts. Then, he smiles—a rare gesture from him.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he says. “Getting that offer was no small feat. You’ve done exceptional work so far, Miller.”

“Thank you, sir,” I respond in surprise, offering a small smile in return. Once I would have been thrilled to have his approval. But now…