The restaurant was called Bellamore.

Soft lights.

White linen.

Expensive wine.

The kind of place where people spoke quietly because everyone wanted to appear important.

Julian arrived fourteen minutes late.

He apologized with a charming smile and an excuse about traffic.

Elena accepted it.

He was handsome.

Blond hair.

Blue eyes.

Tailored navy suit.

Nothing about him suggested danger.

And that was precisely why she had chosen him.

Safe.

Predictable.

Ordinary.

Everything Victor Santoro was not.

But throughout dinner, Elena couldn’t relax.

Every time the restaurant door opened, she looked up.

Every dark-haired man in a suit made something inside her tighten.

She hated herself for it.

Julian noticed.

“You’re distracted.”

“Long day.”

“At the office?”

“Yes.”

“With Santoro?”

Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

“How do you know his name?”

Julian smiled.

“Talia mentioned him.”

The answer came too quickly.

Elena slowly lowered her fork.

“Talia doesn’t know where I work.”

Julian’s smile disappeared.

For the first time that evening, his face looked different.

Older.

Colder.

More calculated.

He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers.

“You work for Victor Santoro.”

Elena pulled her hand away.

“How do you know that?”

“Because people like him don’t operate alone.”

Her heartbeat quickened.

“Who are you?”

Julian leaned back.

“My family has business interests that overlap with Santoro’s.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“We’ve been trying to understand his operations.”

Elena stared at him.

“And you thought taking me to dinner was a good way to do that?”

“We thought you might be willing to help.”

A bitter laugh escaped her.

“You mean spy on him.”

Julian didn’t deny it.

“We can make this worthwhile.”

“How?”

“Money.”

She said nothing.

“Enough money to walk away from him.”

Still nothing.

“New apartment. New identity if necessary. Protection.”

Elena’s stomach tightened.

“You researched me.”

“We did what was necessary.”

“And you approached me because you thought I was desperate.”

“No.”

Julian leaned forward.

“We approached you because he trusts you.”

The words struck harder than she expected.

“He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“He trusts you enough to keep you close.”

Elena looked down at the table.

For a moment, she remembered every late night in Victor’s office.

Every time he had called her by name instead of assistant.

Every warning.

Every silent glance.

Every moment when his attention lingered a second too long.

She suddenly understood how dangerous that trust could be.

Julian lowered his voice.

“Listen to me. Men like Santoro eventually lose everything.”

“Men like you say that when you want something from them.”

His expression hardened.

“We’re offering you a way out.”

“No.”

“Elena—”

“No.”

She stood.

The movement knocked her wineglass.

It tipped over.

Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth, spreading between them like a warning.

Julian caught her wrist.

“Think carefully.”

She stared at his hand.

“Let go.”

He released her.

Immediately.

But his voice followed her.

“You can’t work for Santoro forever.”

Elena grabbed her purse.

“Watch me.”

She walked toward the exit.

Her heels struck the marble floor with sharp, uneven clicks.

She didn’t notice the man sitting three tables behind her.

She didn’t notice the untouched espresso.

Didn’t notice the charcoal suit.

Didn’t notice the gray eyes that had followed every movement since she entered the restaurant.

Victor Santoro had arrived twenty minutes before her.

And he had heard everything.

Outside, the cold night air hit Elena’s face.

She stood beneath the restaurant lights, breathing hard.

The red dress suddenly felt different.

An hour ago, it had made her feel beautiful.

Now it felt like a target.

Her hands trembled as she took out her phone.

She scrolled past several contacts before stopping.

Victor.

She stared at his name.

Calling him was the last thing she wanted.

It was also the only thing that felt safe.

She pressed the button.

He answered before the first ring had completely finished.

“Where are you?”

No greeting.

No question about the date.

Just those three words.

Elena swallowed.

“Bellamore. West Fifty-Fourth.”

Silence.

Then his voice changed.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Is Julian with you?”

“No.”

Another pause.

This one frightened her more than anger would have.

“Stay where you are.”

“Victor—”

“Don’t move.”

She heard something in the background.

A door opening.

Footsteps.

Then his voice came again.

“I’m coming.”

Elena closed her eyes.

“How long?”

“Five minutes.”

She almost laughed from the relief.

“You sound very sure.”

“I am.”

The call ended.

Elena lowered the phone.

She didn’t know that Victor was already walking through the restaurant behind her.

She didn’t know that Julian had just made the most dangerous mistake of his life.

And she certainly didn’t know that Victor hadn’t been sitting three tables away by accident.

For weeks, he had known someone was trying to get close to her.

Tonight, he had finally learned why.

The problem was no longer whether Elena could be trusted.

The problem was whether the people who had targeted her would survive long enough to discover that Victor Santoro had been watching them too.