Chapter 2 - The Necklace Leo Recognized
I smiled automatically.
“Apparently somebody likes jewelry.”
My necklace was nothing special.
A small oval pendant on a thin silver chain.
Old enough that the edges had gone smooth.
My mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen.
She claimed it had belonged to her mother.
I had never seen a photograph of that grandmother.
Then again, my mother had spent most of my childhood giving vague answers about everything that happened before I was born.
Leo made another desperate sound.
His fingers stretched harder.
Not toward my face.
The pendant.
Definitely.
Dante looked down.
The second he saw it, every trace of exhaustion vanished from his face.
“What is that?”
The question came too quickly.
I touched the pendant.
“A necklace.”
One of the men almost smiled.
Dante did not.
“Where did you get it?”
Something cold moved through me.
People with dragons on their skin.
Walk the other way.
My mother’s warning came back again.
I took one step backward.
“My mother.”
“What was her name?”
Absolutely not.
I folded my order pad.
“I’ll get the wine.”
Leo started crying.
Not ordinary crying.
Panicked.
His tiny body twisted in Dante’s arms while both hands continued reaching for me.
People turned.
The jazz trio kept playing, but half the restaurant had stopped pretending not to watch.
Dante shifted Leo against his chest.
“Leo.”
The baby cried harder.
Then I made my second mistake.
I stepped closer.
“May I?”
Dante’s eyes snapped to mine.
I immediately regretted asking.
But Leo’s face was red.
Tears clung to his eyelashes.
I knew babies.
Not professionally.
My cousin had three.
Sometimes children got overwhelmed.
Maybe he wanted the shiny necklace.
Maybe letting him touch it would end whatever strange spectacle this had become.
Dante stared at me for three seconds.
Then:
“Yes.”
He did not hand Leo over.
He simply moved him slightly closer.
Leo reached.
His tiny fist closed around the pendant.
And stopped crying instantly.
The restaurant went silent.
Actually silent.
Even the jazz trio somehow ended its song at exactly the wrong moment.
Leo stared at the pendant.
Then at me.
His lower lip trembled.
And he made one sound.
“Ma.”
My heart stopped.
Dante’s face changed.
One of the guards whispered something in Italian.
The other crossed himself.
“No.”
Dante’s voice came out almost soundless.
He stared at the necklace.
Then at my face.
“Turn it over.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
“The pendant.”
“No.”
The word left before caution.
Dante’s eyes hardened.
I remembered exactly whom I was talking to.
Still, anger rose faster than fear.
“You don’t get to order me around because your baby likes my necklace.”
Something flickered in his expression.
Not anger.
Shock.
Maybe nobody told Dante Rosselli no while holding a wine list.
Then Leo reached again.
Dante closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, his voice changed.
“Please.”
That word surprised me more than anything.
I looked at the pendant.
Then slowly turned it over.
The back held an engraving I had looked at hundreds of times.
A tiny rose wrapped around the letter S.
Dante went completely still.
“No.”
Again.
This time it sounded like grief.
I stared.
“What?”
He reached toward the pendant.
Stopped before touching it.
Good.
“May I see it?”
I hesitated.
Then lifted the chain away from my collar without removing it.
Dante leaned closer.
The scar along his jaw seemed suddenly more visible.
The dragon ink disappeared beneath his shirt.
His eyes fixed on the engraving.
“Where exactly did your mother get this?”
“I told you. Her mother.”
“What was your mother’s full name?”
My pulse started pounding.
“Rosa Valdez.”
Dante inhaled sharply.
One of the men beside him—older, broad-shouldered, with a gray beard—looked at him.
“Boss?”
Dante did not answer.
He looked at me.
“What did she look like?”
That frightened me.
I stepped back.
“Why?”
“Dark hair?”
I said nothing.
“Green eyes?”
My stomach turned.
“Small scar through her left eyebrow?”
I could not breathe.
My mother had all three.
“How do you know that?”
Dante’s face became unreadable.
Then:
“Is she alive?”
The question hit hard.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
Every man at the table changed posture.
That was when I knew this was no coincidence.
Dante set his wine menu down.
“Sit.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
I continued:
“I’m working.”
“I’ll pay for your time.”
That angered me.
“I’m not for sale.”
Another flicker.
Then Dante looked toward Mr. Carrillo.
My manager had been watching from across the room.
Dante raised one finger.
Carrillo practically sprinted over.
“Ms. Valdez is done for the evening.”
I stared.
“No, I’m not.”
Mr. Carrillo looked terrified.
“Alina.”
“Do not Alina me.”
Dante spoke quietly.
“I’m not firing you.”
“Generous.”
“I need ten minutes.”
“You can ask for ten minutes without buying the restaurant’s spine.”
One of his men coughed suspiciously.
Dante looked at him.
The coughing stopped.
Then Dante returned his attention to me.
“Your mother’s name was not always Rosa Valdez.”
My hands went cold.
“What?”
He looked toward Leo.
The baby still stared at my pendant.
Dante whispered:
“That necklace belonged to Sofia Marino.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know that name.”
“I do.”
His voice was almost gone.
“She was Leo’s mother.”
The room tilted.
I grabbed the back of a chair.
Dante continued.
“Sofia wore that pendant every day.”
I stared at Leo.
The baby.
The necklace.
The rose.
The S.
“That’s impossible.”
Dante looked at me.
“No.”
His face hardened with something like dread.
“What’s impossible is that you have the other one.”
Other one.
My mouth went dry.
Dante reached beneath his shirt.
Not for a weapon.
For a chain.
He pulled out another oval pendant.
Same shape.
Same silver.
Same rose engraved on the back.
But the letter was different.
A.
I stared.
Dante said:
“Sofia had a matching set.”
“One was hers.”
“One belonged to the sister she spent years trying to find.”
My entire body went cold.
“I don’t have a sister.”
Dante looked at me.
“Yes.”
May you like
Then:
“You did.”
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