Waitress Slipped a Note to the Mafia Boss — “Your Girlfriend Sold You Out. They’re in Position.”

"You can't keep us locked in here like prisoners!" Clara shouted five minutes later, making sure they were standing directly beneath the hallway junction where the internal security cameras had full audio pickup.

She threw her hands up, channeling every ounce of exhaustion and terror from the past twenty-four hours into her voice.

"I saved your life, Dante! And my reward is watching my brother sit in a gilded cage while killers hunt down everyone I know?! I want out!"

Dante played his part to perfection. His expression darkened into a mask of cold, arrogant fury. He stepped into her space, backing her up against the mahogany paneling of the foyer while the two hallway guards—one of whom belonged to Uncle Enzo’s old guard—pretended to stare straight ahead.

"You walk out that door, you’re in a body bag before you hit Canal Street!" Dante snarled, slamming his palm against the wall beside her head. "You work for me until I say your debt is clear. Get back to your room before I lock you in it."

Clara let out a choked sound, shoved against his chest—which felt like pushing against solid granite—and stormed down the corridor toward her bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the oil paintings on the wall.

Inside her suite, away from the hallway mics, she leaned against the closed door and let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her racing heart. Even knowing it was an act, Dante’s proximity had left her skin humming with electricity.

At seven o’clock that evening, a soft knock sounded at her door.

Clara opened it to find Maya standing there beside Luca, holding her four-year-old daughter, Sofia, on her hip.

"Maya!" Clara cried, pulling both of them into the room and wrapping them in a tight embrace. "Thank God! Are you hurt?"

"Scared out of my mind when two giant guys in suits bundled us into an armored truck," Maya breathed, hugging Clara back tightly before looking around the lavish suite in disbelief. "Girl, when you said table twelve tipped well, I didn't think you meant moving into a Bond villain’s lair!"

Clara let out a breathless laugh that turned into a sigh of relief. Looking past Maya, she caught Luca’s eye in the doorway.

"Did you get the spotter?" Clara asked quietly.

Luca gave a grim nod. "He’s in the basement warehouse in Red Hook right now. And the boss was right. The guy who cloned your phone is Marco—the guard standing outside the study right now. He’s on your Uncle Enzo’s payroll."

Clara felt a chill run down her spine. "Enzo is working with Viktor?"

"The boss wants to see you in the private wardrobe room before dinner," Luca said, stepping back into the hall. "He says tonight is the second half of the performance."

Leaving Maya and little Sofia safely tucked in the adjoining suite with Toby, Clara walked down the private interior staircase to Dante’s master quarters.

He was waiting in the dressing room, fastening a platinum Patek Philippe watch around his wrist. Draped over a velvet mannequin beside him was a breathtaking floor-length gown in deep emerald silk.

"What is this?" Clara asked, stopping short.

"The charity gala at the Metropolitan Club," Dante said, turning to face her in a razor-sharp black tuxedo. "Every captain in the five families, half of Wall Street, and Viktor Kael’s legal proxies will be in that ballroom tonight. If Marco tells Viktor we’re at each other’s throats, Viktor will expect me to drag you out in public to prove I’m still in control—and it gives Viktor’s men the chance to pass you the extraction details in person."