"Filomena," I said, loud enough for Isobel to hear.
"Julia's there?" Isobel asked.
"Yes."
"Good. She needs to hear this too. Seven tonight. Il Giardino. Private room. I'll bring everything I found. But come prepared—I have a feeling tonight's going to get interesting."
"Define interesting."
"The kind where you might want to bring Stone and his entire security team."
"Already planned."
"Smart man." She paused. "Quentin, I mean it. Be careful. Whoever killed Big Sal has too much to lose. They won't hesitate to kill again."
"Noted. See you at seven."
He hung up.
We stood there, hands still linked, the weight of what was coming pressing down on us.
"So," I said. "Either we get the proof we need tonight and save both our lives—"
"Or we walk into a trap and die."
"Those really are our only options?"
"Looks like it."
I laughed—a slightly hysterical sound. "Your life is terrible."
"Tell me about it." But he was almost smiling. "For what it's worth, if I have to walk into a deathtrap restaurant, I'm glad you're the one walking in with me."
"That's so romantic."
"Really?"
"No. But it's definitely memorable."
This time he did smile. Really smiled. And for just a moment, standing there in his office holding hands while planning for potential murder, I let myself believe we'd survive this.
That we'd find the proof.
That we'd stop Filomena.
That somehow, impossibly, we'd make it out alive.
"We should prepare," Quentin said finally, breaking the spell. "If we're doing this, we do it right."
"Agreed." I squeezed his hand once, then let go. "Body armor first. Then weapons. Then we go over the restaurant layout with Stone."
"And Julia?"
"Yeah?"
"If something goes wrong tonight—if I tell you to run—you run. No arguments. No heroics. Just go."
"Like hell." I met his eyes. "We survive together or not at all. That's the deal."
