"Thank you. I'll pay extra for the late hours."
"Bah! No talk of money. You bring me that coffee I like, the one with vanilla. We are even."
I smiled despite myself. Mrs. Petrovich lived down the hall and had become my lifeline when work ran late or Maya's daycare closed early. She never pried into my life, never asked why a single mother worked such long hours for a man whose last name carried weight even in Brighton Beach. If she recognized the Barone name, she was wise enough to say nothing. "Deal. I'll text when I'm on my way home."
After hanging up, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my reflection. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, a testament to too many nights of broken sleep and worry.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "Just get through tonight."
But as I dried my hands, doubt crept in. The way Cassian looked at me—it was more than suspicion. There were signs of recognitionlurking beneath the surface, like he was trying to place me in a half-forgotten memory.
How long before he remembered the woman he'd spent one night with in Miami? How long before he connected Isla Quinn to "Celia"?
And if he did, how long before he discovered Leo?
I returned to my desk, forcing professional composure into every movement. Cassian emerged from his office minutes later, stopping at my desk.
"The Richardson files," he said, extending his hand.
I passed him the folder. Our fingers brushed, and electricity shot up my arm. His eyes locked with mine and narrowed slightly.
"You seem troubled, Ms. Quinn."
I schooled my features. "Not at all. Just focused on preparing for tonight's meeting."
"Good." He tapped the folder against his palm. "I don't tolerate distractions."
"Neither do I."
Something like approval flickered across his face. "We'll see how true that is tonight."
After he left, I released the breath I'd been holding. My phone buzzed with a text from Mrs. Petrovich—a photo of Leo napping, his dark curls splayed against her floral couch cushion. My heart clenched. His face in sleep was so like his father's—the same strong jawline already forming, the same thick lashes.
I should quit. Walk away now, find another job, move to another city. Start over again.
But I'd been running for almost three years, and what did I have to show for it? A string of apartments, dwindling savings, and a growing mountain of medical bills. Leo deserved stability, security—things I couldn't give him if I kept running.
No, I needed this job. Needed the money and the access it gave me to information about Cassian Barone—the man who could either be the father Leo deserved or the danger that would destroy us both.
The Carlton was precisely the kind of place Cassian Barone would choose—old money elegance with modern power dynamics. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over dark wood and cream linens. Men in bespoke suits exchanged handshakes while women in designer dresses offered air kisses.
I'd worn my one good dress—black, fitted, with a neckline modest enough for business but low enough to remind everyone I was a woman. The kind of dress that said I belonged without trying too hard.
Cassian waited in the lobby, his back to me as he spoke with the maître d'. Even from behind, he commanded attention—broad shoulders encased in a perfectly tailored suit, dark hair just brushing his collar, a stance that radiated authority.
He turned as I approached, his gaze sweeping over me with unhurried assessment. Something shifted in his expression—a darkening of his eyes, a slight parting of his lips.
"Ms. Quinn." His voice was deeper than usual. "You clean up well."
"I'm always presentable, Mr. Barone." Professional. Distant. Pointed.
He offered his arm. "Shall we?"
I hesitated before placing my hand on his forearm, feeling hard muscle beneath fine wool. The contact sent unwelcome heat spiraling through me. This close, memories threatened to surface—his handson my skin, his mouth at my throat, the weight of him pressing me into hotel sheets.
I pulled my hand away. "Who are we meeting?"
"Vincent Calabrese. He owns shipping companies I'm interested in acquiring." Cassian guided me through the restaurant with a light touch at the small of my back. "He'll have his lawyer with him. You'll take notes."
