This was it. The moment I lost him. The moment everything I'd started to hope for shattered into pieces I'd never be able to put back together.
"There's no justification for it." My hands trembled. "You're right. I looked you in the eye every day and lied. I let you trust me. I let you—" My voice broke. "I let myself care about you while planning your execution. There's no defense for that. No argument that makes it okay."
"Then why are you still here?" His tone was ice. "Why confess now?"
"Because I can't do it." The words came out as barely a whisper. "I was supposed to kill you, Quentin. That was the job. But I can't. Iwon't. Even if it costs me everything."
His intense gaze met mine, piercing into my soul. “Julia. You came to work for mespecifically to kill me. You looked me in the eye every single day, smiled at me, let me trust you—all while planning to put a bullet in my head." His voice dropped dangerously low. "You can't expect me to just brush that away."
"I know." My vision blurred with tears. "I know it's unforgivable. But please—" I reached across the table, stopping just short of touching his hand. "I'm so sorry, Quentin. You have to believe me. When we’re together, it's real. I'm not playing you. I couldn't do it. I'm not a person who would sleep with someone as an undercover role. Never. I only have sex in caring relationships formed around love and respect. I didn't know you at the beginning."
He didn't move. Didn't acknowledge my outstretched hand.
"But I know you now," I continued, my voice breaking. "You're innocent. This—what we have—it's real, Quentin. Something powerful. Something worth fighting for. Please don't throw it away because of what I wassupposedto do. I'm asking you to look at what Ididn'tdo. What Icouldn'tdo."
Silence stretched between us.
Then he pushed back his chair and stood. "I need to think."
My heart dropped into my stomach. "Quentin—"
"Excuse me." His voice was polite, distant. The voice of a stranger. "I need to use the restroom."
He walked away without looking back.
I sat frozen, watching him disappear around the corner. My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the edge of the table.
He's not coming back. He's going to walk out. Or worse—he's calling someone. Stone. His security. Someone to deal with the threat.
Seconds after Quentin walked away from the table, my phone buzzed. I didn’t have many contacts stored because it was my cover phone. As much as I trusted security technology, I used a separate burner for family business.
It was my brother. I recognized the number. One of his burners. A message from him on this phone would be bad news.
Your cousin is waiting outside with the engine running. You have ninety seconds. If you don’t comply, your date is going to have a fatal accident. And you’ll be up shit creek. Move.
My heart pounded in my chest.
Carlo was not one for dramatic embellishments. He didn’t use exaggerations. Like our father, he never issued empty threats.
I stood, grabbed my handbag off the handy little hook, and scanned the restaurant for Quentin. He wasn’t in view. I simply didn’t have time to bust into the men’s room and explain. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I had. I raced for the exit.Shit. This was going to send the wrong message to Quentin and his team.
Silvio sat behind the wheel of a plain domestic sedan. He liked keeping a low profile and I supposed it was for good reason. The passenger door flew open. He growled at me like I was going to be his next meal. “Get in.”
I jumped in and slammed the door. “I’m in. What the hell, Silvio?”I could growl, too.“What’s going on?”
“Carlo wants you in New York. Immediately. I’m driving you to the airport, putting you on the jet, and not telling you anything more.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Take it up with Carlo.”
"Please, Silvio. Tell me you're not going to take out Quentin." I was panicking on the inside. Silvio, if he was anything, was a good soldier. He'd do whatever Carlo commanded. Or die trying. I needed to warn Quentin. I felt guilty immediately after having that thought. I could not betray my family.
But I had something special with Quentin. Something real. Something I didn't want to lose.
"Please, Silvio." I reached across the car and tugged his arm. "Tell me the plan."
"I told Carlo what I've been seeing all week. You spending the night with him. The way you look at him. That cozy dinner tonight. You're compromised, Jules. I'm not letting you blow this."
