Chapter 3
Lorenzo’s hand lowered from Anna’s cheek and came to rest on the leather seat beside her hip.
He leaned toward her.
His mouth stopped only inches from her ear.
“You are completely free to return to the Baccarat Hotel.”
His breath warmed her skin.
“You can go back to bowing to entitled billionaires.”
A pause.
“You can continue pretending your blood does not run hot with the instincts of the underworld.”
He pulled back enough to look directly into her eyes.
“You can go back to being a concierge.”
Anna stared at him.
“Or…”
Lorenzo’s voice became quieter.
“You can admit that for the 1st time in your life, you did not have to hide what you are.”
His gaze remained intense.
“You can admit that you belong with the wolves, little bird.”
A faint smile.
“Not the peacocks.”
Anna did not answer immediately.
She thought about Mr. Davis.
The hotel lobby.
The practiced smiles.
The carefully controlled safety of her life in Midtown.
She had spent 10 years trying to separate herself from the underworld that had killed her father.
Changing her surname.
Building a career.
Learning how to calm angry executives and powerful guests without ever allowing the past to become visible.
Then Lorenzo Moretti had walked into the Baccarat Hotel and demanded a penthouse.
Anna had insulted him because she believed the language of her childhood was private.
Instead, he answered her in the same dialect.
Within hours, he had uncovered the identity she had spent a decade hiding.
He had brought her into a meeting with the man who ordered the blood vendetta against her family.
Don Vincenzo Russo had recognized her.
He had used the language of old fishermen to conceal an execution order.
Anna had understood it.
She had chosen to warn Lorenzo.
That warning saved his life.
What followed saved hers.
Now Vincenzo Russo was dead.
Lorenzo had fulfilled the promise he made before they entered the club.
Anna looked toward the platinum American Express card still inside the pocket of her coat.
Then she looked at Lorenzo.
“My shift at the hotel has already been canceled.”
Her voice was quiet.
The defiance returned to her eyes.
Then she switched effortlessly into Neapolitan.
“And the wolves pay better.”
Lorenzo’s smile widened.
There was triumph in it.
Something else as well.
He was completely captivated.
Lorenzo tapped the glass partition.
The driver responded immediately.
“Take us home.”
He did not mean his office.
He did not mean the Baccarat Hotel.
The Maybach accelerated into the Manhattan night.
Anna remained beside him.
She was no longer simply surviving the world her mother had tried to escape.
May you like
She was sitting at the right hand of its king.
Disclaimer: This story is fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. Any names, characters, places, or events are fictitious or used fictitiously. No real person or organization is intended to be portrayed.
Related Stories
