Chapter 1 - The Shoebox
The rain hammered against the windows of the Brass Rail with a violent rhythm.
Vincent Rossi did not bring his bodyguards when he walked through the front door this time.
He wore a dark trench coat that dripped cold water onto the faded carpet of the entryway.
Harper watched him bypass the host stand and walk directly to table 4 in the back corner.
The restaurant was mostly empty, leaving only the soft hum of the jazz playlist to fill the heavy silence.
Harper grabbed a fresh rag and a menu, walking over to his booth with steady steps.
She wiped the table down and asked him if he wanted the ribeye again or if he was just hiding from the storm.
Vincent did not look at the menu she placed in front of him.
He looked directly into her eyes and asked why the twenty-five hundred dollars was still sitting untouched inside a shoebox beneath her bed.
Harper felt her blood turn into ice.
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she realized someone had been inside her locked apartment.
She reached into her apron pocket, pulled out a thick envelope containing his exact cash, and dropped it onto the table.
She told him fiercely that she did not want his charity, his dirty money, or his trouble.
Vincent did not touch the envelope.
He told her in a low, dangerous voice that the money was not charity at all.
He said it was an apology for what was about to happen to her.
May you like
Harper frowned and opened her mouth to ask what he meant by that statement.
Before she could speak a single word, the front windows of the restaurant exploded inward.
