Page 281 of Rosetti Family New York

The casual revelation sends ice through my veins. Not just surveillance, but a coordinated operation designed to ensure whatever happens tonight unfolds according to Callahan planning. If Emilio does appear, he'll be walking into a killing field disguised as romantic ambiance.

I should warn him. Should find some way to send a message, create a distraction, anything to keep him away from whatever elaborate execution Chase has orchestrated.

But the words stick in my throat, professional survival warring with personal loyalty in ways that make rational thought impossible. Warning Emilio would expose me, sign my death warrant, and destroy any chance of completing my most important mission of all.

Not warning him might destroy the only man who ever made me feel like I was worth protecting.

"Shall we order?" Connor suggests, though his attention remains focused on my face rather than the menu. "The kitchen here is exceptional."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number:Ladies' room. Now. Come alone.

My blood turns to arctic water. Only one person could have acquired my number, bypassed the encryption, and sent a message that sounded like both invitation and command.

"Excuse me," I manage, standing on legs that feel suddenly unsteady. "I need to powder my nose."

Connor's eyes narrow fractionally. "Of course. Don't be long—I'll miss your company."

The threat wrapped in civility makes my jaw clench, but I force a smile that feels like breaking glass. "Just a few minutes."

The walk to the ladies' room feels like a death march. My heels click against marble with each step taking me closer to a confrontation I've dreaded and anticipated in equal measure. Three years of wondering what I'd say if I saw him again, and now I'm about to find out.

The ladies' room is empty, all soft lighting and expensive fixtures that speak to the kind of luxury money can't always buy. I check the stalls with methodical precision, confirming we're alone before allowing myself to acknowledge the terror and anticipation warring in my chest.

He's here. In this building, close enough to touch, probably watching through cameras I can't see. The realization makes my skin prickle with awareness that has nothing to do with fear.

My body remembers him in ways my mind has tried to forget.

"Hello, Mara."

The voice emerges from shadows I thought were empty, low and familiar and carrying enough controlled menace to make smart people reach for weapons. But I don't. I turn slowly, carefully, giving my nervous system time to process what my eyes are confirming.

Emilio Rosetti stands by the door like a phantom given form. Three years older, leaner somehow, with new lines around his eyes. But the fundamental magnetism remains unchanged, the way he occupies space like he owns it, how his attentionfocuses with laser intensity that makes everything else fade to background noise.

"Emilio." His name emerges breathless, scraped raw by three years of suppressed longing. "You shouldn't be here."

"Shouldn't I?" He moves closer with fluid grace, each step deliberate and controlled. "When the woman who disappeared from my bed three years ago resurfaces in New York, working for my enemies? When she warns me about attacks then shows up at romantic dinners with Callahan operatives?"

The casual way he catalogs my betrayals makes shame burn in my throat, but underneath it coils something more dangerous. Relief. Not just that he's alive, but that he's here, close enough to touch, real instead of memory.

"How did you know I was here?" Though even as I ask, I already know the answer. Surveillance. Always surveillance with him.

"I know everything about your evening, sweetheart." The endearment carries razor edges, familiar affection wrapped in something colder. "Question is: are you here by choice, or is Chase forcing you?"

The direct question catches me off-guard. Not accusation but assessment, giving me room to explain without demanding immediate confession.

"It's complicated," I manage, the words feeling inadequate for the impossible situation I've navigated.

"It always is with you." His smile is a tantalizing blend of beauty and danger. "But we can't afford any complications at the moment. Connor's growing restless, and Chase's security team is beginning to get suspicious about your delay."

"You've been keeping an eye on them too?"

"I've been watching everything." He inches closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around me, and I catch the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "The real question is what happens next."

Before I can answer, footsteps echo in the corridor outside. Heavy, purposeful, moving toward us.

"Mara?" Connor's voice carries through the door. "Everything alright in there?"

Emilio's expression stays the same, but his posture changes—muscles tensing, hands subtly preparing for action. "Answer him," he whispers. "Normal tone. Buy me thirty seconds."