Page 59

"I've already told Damiano to locate her."
"You have?" I step closer, hope and fear battling inside me. "When?"
"This morning. His men are looking for her now. We'll find her before Ivan does."
But his confidence doesn't reassure me. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth in the apartment.
I want to believe him but fear has taken root. "You don't know Jessica. She's trusting. Innocent. She has no idea what kind of man Ivan really is."
Noah approaches me. His hands rest on my shoulders, warm and steady.
I search Noah's face for any sign of deception but his eyes remain steady on mine.
"We'll find her," he repeats, more firmly this time. "Trust me on this."
Trust. Such a simple word, yet so impossible in my situation. Still, what choice do I have?
Noah steps away from me and moves to the refrigerator. He pulls out several white containers and places them on the counter.
"I picked these up earlier. Figured we'd need something substantial."
The familiar red dragon logo on the containers makes my stomach growl again. Golden Dragon—my favorite Chinese restaurant in the city.
"Is that..." I step closer, peering at the containers.
"Kung pao chicken, extra spicy. Vegetable dumplings with the ginger dipping sauce. And..." He opens the last container. "Sesame noodles, no green onions."
My mouth falls open. "How did you know?"
"That you hate green onions?" A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Same way I know you take your coffee black, good cream. And that you always order the same sandwich from that little deli on 53rd."
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with hunger. I step back, the momentary comfort evaporating.
"How long?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "How long have you been watching me?"
Noah doesn't immediately answer. He methodically sets out plates, his movements deliberate.
"Ten months," he finally says, not looking at me.
"Ten months?" The room seems to tilt. "You've been following me for almost a year?"
I stare at Noah, processing this revelation. Ten months of surveillance. Ten months of him watching my every move without me knowing. The intimacy we just shared suddenly feels tainted.
"Why?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "Why would you follow me for ten months?"
Noah sets down the plates with deliberate care, like he's buying time. When he finally looks up, something in his eyes has changed—a vulnerability I haven't seen before.
"I saw you playing at Damiano's wedding." His voice is low, almost reluctant. "Something happened when I heard you play. It was like..." He pauses, searching for words. "Like something that had been frozen inside me started to thaw."
I wrap my arms tighter around myself, unsure how to respond.
"After that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Your music. The way you moved with the violin." He shakes his head slightly. "I got obsessed."
"That's..." I swallow hard, stepping back. "That's actually really awkward, Noah. Following someone for months without their knowledge? That's what serial killers do. They stalk their victims before they?—"
"If I wanted you dead," he cuts in, his voice suddenly sharp, "you would have been dead ten months ago."
The bluntness of his statement hits me like a hammer blow because I know it's true. I've seen what he's capable of. The way he dispatched Ivan's men without hesitation.