One week later…
I’m pretty sure the barista thinks Halsey and I are taking up permanent residency.
We’ve been hogging the corner table at our favorite café for nearly two hours, flipping through newspapers and chattering nonstop about everything from world affairs to designer knockoffs. The glossy black surface is littered with empty cups and wadded napkins, souvenirs of our caffeine-fueled morning.
I fold the newspaper carefully, my stomach twisting as the front page headline stares back at me: WEDDING SHOOTOUT AT MIDTOWN HOTEL—POLICE SUSPECT MOB CONNECTIONS.
Halsey lifts a brow as she notices my grimace. “Hey, it’s not every day half of the city’s mafia elite gets robbed at a wedding.” She takes a sip of her latte, then scowls. “Ugh, cold.”
I set the paper aside, exhaling slowly. Every time I read about the events of that night, my mind strays to Dante—where he is, what he’s doing, if he’s even okay. I tell myself it’s just curiosity, but deep down, I know better.
He’s probably fine. The papers would have reported otherwise.
“Hey,” Halsey nudges me. “Stop overthinking. You look like you’re trying to do advanced calculus in your head.”
I force a laugh. “Maybe I should be. It’d be easier than reading about that night again.”
Halsey chuckles. “You sure you don’t want to stay updated about that fiasco? I mean, it was your exes wedding, and your new person of interest was right in the thick of it.”
“Person of interest,” I repeat, wrinkling my nose. “Makes it sound like I want him for questioning.”
She shrugs. “Don’t you? Don’t you want to find out if you could have another night like that one? Just without the shooting and robbing.”
Rolling my eyes, I tap my phone’s screen to check the time. “Let’s talk about something else. Like why we’re still sitting here when you promised me brunch at least an hour ago.”
Halsey sets her empty cup aside, arching a brow. “You know, you’ve always been kinda cagey about your family. And now that a certain mafia someone is in your life, I have questions.”
“First of all, he’s not in my life. That was a one-time thing.” I narrow my eyes at her. “What kind of questions?”
“I know the broad strokes—War of the Black Roses, Russian versus Italian, all that dramatic mafia history. And the little bit about your parents you’ve been willing to share. But you never really go into detail. Look, I get it, you keep things locked up tight and I respect that. But Eva,” she tilts her head, voice softening just a bit, “this has to bring up certain feelings, no?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, staring at my coffee like it holds the answers. It’s not that I don’t trust Halsey—she’s been my ride-or-die since college. But dragging up the past always brings something unpleasant back with it.
The mention of my parents makes my heart clench. I haven’t talked about them in months, maybe longer. It’s easier that way.
“There’s not much to tell,” I begin, forcing a casual shrug. “Dad was Russian, Mom was from upstate New York, and they met each other in the city. From what I gather, Dad wasn’t exactly on the right side of the law. The War of the Black Roses was this huge skirmish between the Italian and Russian mobs about eight or nine years ago. I’m sure you remember hearing about it on the news.”
Halsey nods, expression sobering. “Of course. Bombings, shootings, random hits. A lot of people died.”
“Yeah,” I say, my throat tightening. “They were two of them. Don’t know who pulled the trigger. It could’ve been anybody out of the families who were there fighting. I just know there was a shootout, and they didn’t survive.”
She reaches across the table, resting her hand on mine. “I’m sorry, Eva. I know it still hurts.”
“Sometimes,” I admit softly. “I was barely a teenager. Got bounced around in foster care until I aged out, then hustled my way through scholarship programs and side gigs to pay for college, where I learned about computers and cybersecurity, then picked up hacking. I wanted a career that would keep me far away from all that criminal stuff. I know, the irony, right?” A dry laugh escapes me. “And yet I ended up indirectly dealing with criminals anyway.”
Halsey squeezes my hand. “You’re not dealing with them, you’re just helping them patch holes in their security sometimes. It’s legit work.”
“Right,” I mumble, my mind drifting back to the night of the wedding. The lines between legit and not-so-legit feel awfully blurry these days. “Anyway, my plan has always been to build a real future, maybe open my own consulting firm someday, be a boss.” I flash a grin. “You know, wear power suits, glare at incompetent employees, the whole nine yards.”
“I’d pay to see that. ‘Evil Eva, Queen of the Cyber World.’” We laugh together, then she asks, ‘Speaking of, have you gotten any calls back about those cybersecurity gigs you’ve been applying for?”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, my phone buzzes on the table. We exchange a startled look.
“Whoa. That’s some weird psychic timing.” I pick up the phone, my heart skipping a beat at the unfamiliar number on the screen. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Ms. Smith,” a brisk female voice replies. “I’m calling from BK&C Corporation regarding your recent application. Is this a good time to talk?”
I shoot Halsey a wide-eyed look, then scramble to my feet, pressing the phone more firmly to my ear. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Excellent. I wanted to inform you that the board has reviewed your résumé and would love to have you come in for an interview. In fact, the CEO has personally taken an interest.”
My pulse thunders. “That’s amazing. I’d be honored.”
“Wonderful. We can schedule something for this Tuesday morning. Does nine a.m. work for you?”
I want to squeal with excitement, but instead, I force my voice to stay calm and professional. “Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
A few more details are exchanged before I hang up, carefully setting my phone on the table. Halsey leans in, eyes bright. “Well?”
“I got an interview,” I whisper, hardly believing it myself. “The head of cybersecurity at BK&C. They want me. The CEO flagged my resume.” Excitement thrums through me. “I can’t believe it.”
“Girl, you’re a genius with code. Of course they want you.” Halsey leaps up and flings her arms around me, nearly knocking over the empty coffee cups. We share a clumsy hug, both squealing in delight.
When she finally pulls back, I’m a little breathless. “I can’t blow this, Halls. BK&C Corporation is no joke. They do private equity, finance, all sorts of big deals. They probably have a huge target on their digital infrastructure, which means they need someone strong, someone who can handle serious threats.”
“And that someone,” Halsey says, jabbing a finger at me, “is you. Just don’t freeze up or panic.” She taps her chin. “You’re going to need—”
“A power suit,” I finish for her. We break into twin grins. “I need to look unstoppable. Smart, confident, borderline scary. They have to see me as someone who can stand up to any hacker or data breach.”
Halsey claps her hands together. “Exactly. So, let’s get brunch then hit the shops. This calls for a celebratory spree.”
I hesitate, glancing at my half-empty latte. “No more cheap coffee for me.”
She winks. “This is a day to treat yourself. I know a boutique that specializes in full-figure formal business attire, the kind that screams, ‘I’m a boss’. It would be perfect for you.”
My cheeks warm. I hate the phrase full-figure, but I know that’s what I am, and Halsey means nothing nefarious by it.
She cleans up the table in record time, and we head out to the bustling street. The spring sunshine dances off the sidewalks, making the city feel almost whimsical. It’s a nice contrast to the gloom of reading about mob shootouts and thinking about the sad fate of my parents.
“So,” Halsey begins, slipping on her oversized sunglasses, “you have any regrets about your time with the don?”
Memories of that night surge forward—his mouth on mine, his hands mapping every inch of my skin, the way he buried himself to the hilt inside me.
I shake my head slowly. “No. No regrets.”
Halsey grabs my arm, squealing under her breath. “That is so scandalous. I love it. Now, come on, let’s get some eggs Benedict or something before we shop. I’m starving.”
We weave through the mid-morning crowd, heading for a cozy brunch spot a few blocks away. As we walk, Halsey drops bits of gossip about the Pattersons—Luca’s mother’s side.
Apparently, Linda Patterson’s father once owned a string of oil rigs, but the fortune dwindled after a scandal with the IRS. She also mentions how Linda and Sarah’s father, Gerald Jones, used to play golf at the same country club.
“Sarah’s family invests heavily in biotech,” Halsey explains as we wait at a crosswalk. “So she’s not exactly poor. She’s been groomed for high society since birth. That’s probably why she’s so snooty. People like that don’t know how to handle real life, nor do they have the best social skills.”
“She sure had no problem insulting me at the wedding,” I mumble. “I can still see her face when she realized I wasn’t a twig.”
Halsey snorts. “That’s because she’s a size negative-two. Whatever. She can float off in her gold-trimmed bubble.”
We continue walking, eventually finding the small café, the scent of fresh bread and sizzling bacon stirring our senses. The hostess seats us by a window overlooking the busy street.
“Anyway,” she continues, stirring her coffee, “My folks used to run in the same circles as the Pattersons and the Jones. It’s old money and new money trying to gain one another’s influence and power. I guess that’s how Linda ended up with Dante in the first place. They met at some fancy fundraiser. The families hated each other, but love conquers all, right?” She snickers. “Clearly, in this case, it didn’t.”
I recall Linda Patterson’s brittle smile, the way she always looked at me like I was a stain on her son’s image.
“I can’t imagine her with Dante,” I say, frowning. “They just didn’t seem like a romantic match.”
“Probably more about power than love,” Halsey remarks. “Don’t forget the Pattersons used to be a big name. She probably saw Dante as the missing piece to keep up her status. Then again, she might’ve really loved him at some point. Either way, it’s all ancient history now.”
“Let’s focus on something else, like my interview,” I suggest, not wanting to discuss the issue any further. Halsey finally relents, and we shift gears into strategy mode. By the time we finish brunch, my nerves have settled. The job is everything I’ve been working toward, and despite the chaos of the past week, I can’t help but feel excited.
We pay our bill and step onto the sidewalk, the sun high overhead. Halsey shields her eyes. “All right. Time for Operation Badass Power Suit.”
She leads me to a polished boutique, where mannequins in sharp blazers and fitted skirts stand behind the glass. Inside, the scent of expensive perfume and the hum of soft jazz greets us.
A stylish sales associate approaches. “Welcome to Covella’s. How can I help you today?”
Halsey grins. “My friend needs the ultimate power suit. Something that says, ‘I eat hackers for breakfast.’”
The woman offers a half-amused smile then studies me and nods. “You’ve come to the right place. Let me show you a few options.”
For once, I don’t get the typical condescending look when shopping for professional wear. She leads us through racks of finely tailored blazers, crisp blouses, and perfectly cut trousers and skirts. I skim my fingers over the fabrics, appreciating the quality and style.
I settle on a deep navy set and step into the fitting room. Halsey waits outside, her voice carrying through the curtain. “Remember, we want CEO energy. When you walk in there, they should be begging to hire you.”
I snort a laugh, buttoning the blazer and smoothing the lapels. When I look in the mirror, I freeze. The suit hugs my waist and skims over my hips, flattering my curves and making me look unstoppable. Like I belong in a corner office.
I step out and Halsey’s delighted gasp seals the deal. “Oh my God, Eva. You look like a boss.”
A warmth spreads through me, and I feel an overwhelming sense of confidence, making me feel like I really can do this. Maybe this job isn’t just a long shot; maybe it’s mine for the taking.
The sales associate beams. “May I pin the hem? A quick alteration will give it the perfect fit.”
I nod, stepping onto the small platform. As she works, I reflect on how far I’ve come. From a scared teenager in foster care, hacking to survive, to standing in an upscale boutique, about to land the career of my dreams.
Halsey’s voice softens. “If your parents could see you now, they’d be so proud.”
My throat tightens. I rarely let myself think about them, about what I lost. But she’s right. I’ve fought hard for this moment, and I won’t let anything—not even a dangerously tempting mafia don—derail it.
Once the alterations are set, we schedule a pickup for early morning. Excitement takes over as I realize a door is opening, and I’m ready to walk through it.
We step outside, Halsey swinging a bag carrying the sleek leather portfolio and other accessories she insisted I needed. The sun is warm, the city alive, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like I belong here.
I loop my arm through hers. “Let’s celebrate. Ice cream or cocktails? Your pick.”
She grins. “Ice cream. And then we’ll get you so prepped, BK&C won’t know what hit them.”
