Chapter 2 - The Invitation She Was Never Supposed to Accept
Lena spent the next morning telling herself she wasn’t going.
By noon, she had told herself eleven times.
By three, seventeen.
At seven forty-five, she was standing outside a restaurant she could never have afforded on her salary.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered.
“You’re right.”
Lena jumped.
Gabriel Rossi stood behind her.
No security detail.
No black convoy.
No intimidating entourage.
Just Gabriel in a charcoal suit, one hand in his pocket, watching her with obvious amusement.
“You’re early,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I own part of the restaurant.”
“Of course you do.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That tone.”
Lena looked at the entrance.
“I can still leave.”
“You could.”
“You’re not going to stop me?”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
Gabriel stepped aside.
The sidewalk was completely open.
“Go.”
Lena studied him.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
She could walk away.
Some stubborn part of her suddenly didn’t want to.
“What happens if I stay?”
“We eat.”
“And?”
“We talk.”
“About?”
“You.”
Lena laughed.
“That sounds terrifyingly one-sided.”
“Then you can ask questions too.”
“Will you answer them?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Convenient.”
Gabriel smiled.
“You came anyway.”
She hated that he had a point.
Inside, they were led to a secluded table.
Lena immediately noticed something.
The restaurant was busy.
Their section wasn’t.
“You cleared the tables around us.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Privacy.”
“You could have booked a private room.”
“I tried that yesterday.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Gabriel watched her.
That look again.
Not arrogance.
Curiosity.
It made her unexpectedly nervous.
“So,” Lena said, “why am I here?”
Gabriel poured water into her glass.
“Because you told me no.”
“That’s a strange reason to invite someone to dinner.”
“Nobody tells me no.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
“It probably is.”
“Maybe you need better friends.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Maybe.”
There was something unexpectedly lonely beneath the answer.
Lena noticed.
She wished she hadn’t.
“Why did you protect the Adlers?” he asked.
“It was my job.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You could have moved them.”
“I could have tried.”
“And kept an important guest happy.”
“You mean you.”
“I mean me.”
She leaned back.
“Because they mattered too.”
Gabriel was quiet.
Lena continued.
“People with money sometimes assume service means obedience. It doesn’t. Hospitality means making people feel valued. The Adlers had waited sixty-five years for that dinner. Your money didn’t make their memory less important.”
Gabriel watched her for several seconds.
“That answer could get you fired.”
“Then I’d find another job.”
“Just like that?”
“No. I’d panic first.”
His mouth twitched.
“Good to know you’re human.”
“Occasionally.”
Dinner arrived.
Against Lena’s expectations, the conversation became easy.
Gabriel asked about her work.
She learned he hated olives, disliked unnecessary meetings, and could speak Italian fluently but pretended not to when distant relatives complained about him at family gatherings.
She laughed so hard at that she nearly spilled her wine.
For two hours, Gabriel Rossi became less frightening.
That might have been the most dangerous thing about him.
Because Lena began to understand why people followed him.
He listened.
Completely.
When she spoke, his attention never wandered.
At ten thirty, Lena finally asked the question she had avoided.
“Are you buying the Bellamy?”
His expression changed.
There it was.
The wall.
“Who told you?”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
“How soon?”
“Possibly three weeks.”
“And the staff?”
“Most will remain.”
“Most?”
“We’re reviewing operations.”
Lena put down her fork.
“Is that why you invited me?”
“No.”
“Are you evaluating me?”
“No.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
She stared at him.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“I invited you because yesterday, for approximately six minutes, you were the only person in that lobby who wasn’t interested in what I could do for you or afraid of what I could do to you.”
“That sounds lonely.”
He went still.
Lena immediately regretted saying it.
But Gabriel didn’t become angry.
He looked toward the window.
“It can be.”
The honesty surprised her.
Before she could respond, a man approached their table.
Late forties.
Gray suit.
Nervous expression.
“Mr. Rossi.”
Gabriel’s entire demeanor changed.
“What?”
The man glanced at Lena.
“We have a problem.”
“Then solve it.”
“It concerns the Bellamy.”
Lena straightened.
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“Tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait.”
The man placed a folder on the table.
Gabriel opened it.
Lena watched the color drain from his expression.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“That doesn’t look like nothing.”
He closed the folder.
“Dinner’s over.”
The sudden coldness stung more than it should have.
Gabriel stood.
“I’ll have my driver take you home.”
“I can get myself home.”
“Lena—”
“No.”
His eyes met hers.
The familiar word hung between them.
But this time neither smiled.
She grabbed her coat.
“Thank you for dinner.”
She walked away.
Gabriel watched her disappear through the doors.
Then he opened the folder again.
Inside were financial reports from the Bellamy.
Missing money.
Falsified invoices.
Employee records.
And a photograph.
Lena Parker leaving the hotel three nights earlier.
Beside the photograph was a handwritten note.
She knows.
Gabriel’s security chief appeared behind him.
Ben looked at the file.
“Who sent it?”
“We don’t know.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
Ben turned another page.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Ben slid the page toward him.
Gabriel read it.
For the first time that night, genuine alarm crossed his face.
Because attached to Lena Parker’s personnel file was a document that should not have existed.
A confidential report dated six years earlier.
And at the bottom was a name Gabriel knew very well.
Michael Parker.
Gabriel looked at Ben.
“Find out who her father was.”
Ben didn’t move.
“I already did.”
Gabriel waited.
Ben lowered his voice.
“Michael Parker was the accountant who tried to expose the Bellamy’s missing money six years ago.”
“And?”
May you like
“He died three days before he could testify.”
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