Chapter 4 - The Shadows Multiply
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I hated the bodyguards.
Dante and Leo were built like brick walls and wore identical black suits that screamed "mafia muscle." For three days, they followed me everywhere. They stood outside my tiny apartment door while I slept. They rode the T with me, parting the morning commuter crowd with nothing but terrifying glares.
It was humiliating, but Christopher refused to compromise.
“My men, or you move into my penthouse,” he had told me over the phone when I complained.
I chose the men. Moving in with Christopher Vitali felt far more dangerous than any Calabrian hitman.
On Tuesday night, I arrived at Cafe Napoli for my usual singing shift. The cafe was packed, the smell of garlic and roasting tomatoes heavy in the air. I stepped onto the small wooden stage, trying to ignore Dante and Leo standing like gargoyles by the exit.
I closed my eyes and began to sing.
It was a fast, rhythmic tarantella this time, meant to lift the mood of the room. The crowd clapped along, and for a few minutes, I forgot about the archival boxes, the dead roses, and the brooding mob boss who was currently paying my rent.
But as I opened my eyes during the final chorus, my heart skipped a beat.
Sitting at a small table in the back corner was a man I had never seen before. He wasn't eating. He wasn't drinking. He was just watching me.
He wore a sharp, tailored gray suit. His face was angular, with a cruel slash of a smile that made my skin crawl.
When I finished the song, he didn't clap. He simply raised his empty espresso cup in a mock toast, his eyes burning into mine.
I stepped off the stage, my hands shaking. I practically sprinted toward Dante.
“There’s a man in the back,” I whispered frantically. “Gray suit. He’s watching me.”
Dante’s hand immediately went inside his jacket, resting on his holstered weapon. He scanned the room, his jaw tight.
“Where?” Dante asked.
I pointed toward the corner table. But it was empty.
A fifty-dollar bill sat on the wood, pinned down by a single, dead black rose.
“Get her to the car. Now,” Leo barked into his earpiece.
They grabbed my arms, rushing me out the back kitchen door and into the freezing Boston night. We piled into the armored SUV, tires squealing as we sped away.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Christopher.
“Are you hurt?” his voice demanded, rough and laced with panic.
May you like
“I’m fine,” I choked out, tears of fear finally spilling over. “Christopher, they found me.”
“Bring her to the compound,” Christopher ordered Dante over the speaker. “She isn't going back to that apartment.”
