SHE SWORE HER PERFECT MAN COULD NEVER BE MAFIA

The weekend should have been Claire's chance to forget work. Jenna had organized three days at the resort because each of their college friends had a different kind of exhaustion: one was navigating a divorce, another had just finished a residency, and Claire had spent the spring searching for a bus route that would get fourteen hungry children to Harbor House after school. She loved her classroom, but love didn't make her salary stretch, and it didn't make the community center's broken refrigerator repair itself.

Now a property-transfer notice sat on her phone. She called Principal Nora Ellis, but the call went straight to voicemail. Claire left a message, then stared at the company name again. Russo Coastal Development. The man at the next table had tattoos and a security guard, but that hardly proved anything. She wasn't interested in turning a stranger into a suspect because of his appearance.

The server was still cleaning when a second employee arrived to take over. His name tag read LUIS. He had a thin bandage across one thumb, old enough to predate the broken glass. Claire watched Dominic ask whether he needed time to have the cut checked. Luis shook his head and thanked him. Dominic did not touch him or slip him cash like a stage magician. He asked the supervisor to record the accident and left the employee to decide whether he wanted to finish his shift.

“Stop looking,” Jenna murmured. “You'll make him think you like him.”

“I'm looking at the supervisor.”

“Of course you are.”

Claire pushed her chair back. “I need to call home.”

She stepped into the covered walkway where fragrant jasmine climbed the columns. On the phone, her mother answered with her usual greeting: “Tell me you're using sunscreen.” Claire laughed despite herself. Her mother, Ruth Bennett, was seventy and could make an ordinary question sound like a gentle accusation.

“I'm using it. Have you heard anything about Harbor House?”

Ruth became quiet. “They put a notice up yesterday. Someone says the property might be sold. People are scared, honey. Mrs. Delgado asked me whether the summer meals will stop.”

“Nothing's final.”

“That isn't what the notice says.”

Claire pressed her forehead against a cool pillar. “I'll find out what they're proposing. Don't tell anyone I've promised a solution.”

“I wouldn't. You taught me that after the last fundraiser.” Ruth paused. “You sound tired. Does that boy Jenna was talking about seem nice?”

“What boy?”

“The one in her text. Big fellow with an expensive watch.”

“Mother, please.”

Ruth laughed. “Well, whoever he is, don't let him turn your vacation into homework.”

When Claire returned to the terrace, a sudden coastal squall had arrived. Staff hurried to fasten canvas shades; a gust lifted napkins off the tables. Jenna and their friends retreated toward the indoor lounge. A young father was struggling to roll a stroller over a raised threshold while carrying a sleepy toddler. The stroller's front wheel jammed.

Dominic was closest. He asked, “Can I get the door?” and held it wide while the father lifted the wheel himself. Then Dominic followed an employee to secure an umbrella threatening to topple near the pool gate. Ethan watched with a look that mixed professional irritation and reluctant admiration.

Claire found herself standing beside the same door. Dominic noticed her but didn't step into her path.

“Rough weather,” he said.

“It's the coast. It likes dramatic entrances.”

He smiled. Up close, there was a pale scar at his hairline that made him look less like an advertisement and more like someone who'd had a difficult few years. “You were right about the guy earlier,” he said.

“What guy?”

“The one who'd rather date himself. Sounds exhausting.”

Claire's cheeks warmed. “You heard that?”

“The terrace is small.”

“Then you also heard that listening to strangers is rude.”

“That part I inferred.” He lifted his hands slightly, acknowledging the point. “I'm Dominic.”

“Claire.” She kept her distance but shook his hand when he offered it. The handshake was brief and ordinary. “You work here?”

“I own part of the resort group.”

“That's an unusually cautious job description.”

“I'm working on being more precise.”

The squall hammered the roof. A distant child's shout made Dominic look toward the pool, but a lifeguard had already guided everyone indoors. He stayed where he was. Claire recognized the deliberate decision not to intervene where trained staff had things under control.

Her phone lit up with another message from Nora: I'VE FOUND A MEETING AGENDA. RUSSO COASTAL IS THE PROPOSED BUYER. NO PUBLIC COMMENT UNTIL TUESDAY. Claire read it and looked up. Dominic's expression changed when he saw the logo visible on her screen.

“You know that company,” she said.

“Yes.”

“How well?”

“It's one of mine.”

The easy warmth between them vanished. Claire took a measured breath. “The center serves kids from my school.”

“Harbor House?”

“You knew.”

“I knew there was a pending land review. I didn't know it was your school.”

“That's not the comforting distinction you think it is.”

“It wasn't meant as comfort.” He glanced at the message, then away, making no attempt to read further. “You deserve actual information. I'll ask the project office what is public and direct you to it.”

“Don't do me a personal favor. Give the neighborhood the same access.”

Dominic took that in. “Agreed.”

Claire's friends appeared at the end of the walkway. Jenna called her name. Claire stepped toward them, then stopped.

“Dominic, is your last name Russo?”

He met her eyes. “Yes.”

She felt her stomach drop. The name on her phone suddenly belonged to the man holding the resort door open. Dominic didn't smile, deny it, or call the rumors misunderstandings. He said only, “You should hear what you need to hear about me before you decide whether to speak to me again.”

Claire looked at the darkening ocean. She could still walk away. She intended to. But first she had a question that mattered more than whether the stranger met her dating requirements.

“Does your company plan to close Harbor House?”