Grease was the first thing I remember about that night.

“Dad,” Dante said softly, walking into the room. “You should be resting.”

“I was talking to Chloe,” Arthur said, handing the silver frame back to Dante. “She understands Martha.”

Dante looked down at the photograph in his hands, his thumb instinctively tracing his mother’s face just as Arthur had done minutes before. He looked up at me, his gaze long and searching.

“Go to bed, Dad,” Dante said quietly. “I’ll have Mary bring up your medicine.”

Arthur nodded slowly, allowing himself to be helped out of the chair. As he walked past Dante, he patted his son’s chest twice. “Don't lose this one, Dante. She has good eyes.”

When Arthur left the room, the library felt suddenly smaller, charged with a strange, heavy electricity.

Dante walked over to the balcony doors, looking out at the rain. “My uncle called an emergency meeting of the Capos for tomorrow night.”

I stood up from the ottoman. “To vote you out?”

“To challenge my leadership,” Dante corrected. “He claims I’m compromised. He’s using the fact that Arthur wandered out of the estate—and that I brought an outsider into the house—as proof that I’m unfit.”

“I can leave,” I offered quickly, taking a step toward him. “If I’m the problem, put me on a plane. Drop me off in another state. You don't have to ruin your position for a waitress you met three hours ago.”

Dante turned around quickly, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. His breath was warm against my forehead.

“You think this is about you?” Dante asked, his voice low and intense. “Silvio has been planning this coup for eighteen months. He sold information to the Morettis. He helped them track my father’s movements. You aren't the problem, Chloe. You’re the piece he didn't expect.”

“Me? How am I a piece?”

“Because tomorrow night, when Silvio stands before the Council and claims I’m weak, I’m going to show them the proof of his treason,” Dante said, his dark eyes burning with cold ambition. “And you are going to give it to them.”

I stared at him, stunned. “I don't have proof of anything!”

Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy silver key, placing it into my palm.

“Silvio keeps a safe in his private suite in the east wing,” Dante explained. “Inside that safe is a ledger containing his transactions with the Morettis. He thinks no one knows about it. But my mother knew. She kept this spare key before she died.”

“Why don't you get it yourself?” I asked, looking at the cold metal key in my hand.

“Because the east wing is guarded by Silvio’s personal men,” Dante said. “They know my face. They know my bodyguards. But they don't know you. To them, you’re just a maid or a captive girl trapped on the third floor.”

“You want me to sneak into a mobster’s room and steal a ledger?” I whispered, horrified. “Are you crazy?”

Dante stepped even closer, his hand reaching out slowly to touch my cheek. His fingers were surprisingly warm against my cold skin, sending a shiver straight down my spine.

“I won't let anything happen to you, Chloe,” Dante whispered, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “If you do this for me… I will clear your debts. I will buy you the art gallery you’ve always dreamed of. You will never have to serve another cup of coffee for the rest of your life.”

I looked into his dark eyes, feeling a terrifying pull toward this dangerous, complicated man. He was offering me freedom from the miserable life I’d been trapped in for years. But the price was stepping directly into the lion’s den.