Chapter 1 - The Encounter at Table Twelve
The entire restaurant went silent the moment I touched the enormous black dog sitting beside a stranger's table. A waiter dropped his glass, two armed bodyguards reached inside their jackets, and a powerful-looking man in a charcoal coat stared at me as though I'd just done something impossible. What I didn't know was that the dog belonged to New York's most feared Mafia boss—and people had been seriously injured for doing exactly what I'd just done.
My name is Olivia Marshall, and at twenty-six, I was working double shifts at an upscale Manhattan restaurant just to pay my bills. That night, my feet were aching, my back was sore, and all I wanted was to finish my shift and go home.
Then I noticed the beautiful black hound sitting beside table twelve.
He was enormous, with thick midnight-colored fur and piercing amber eyes. When I approached to clear the dishes, he gently pressed his massive head against my leg.
"Oh, you sweet boy," I whispered, bending down to scratch behind his ears.
The dog immediately leaned into my hand.
That's when I noticed the silence.
Every conversation had stopped, and several customers were staring at me with genuine horror. Two men near the restaurant's entrance stood perfectly still, their hands hovering suspiciously close to their jackets.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, quickly withdrawing my hand. "I thought he wanted me to pet him."
The man seated at the table slowly rose.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and devastatingly handsome, with dark hair, sharp features, and cold gray eyes. Something about his presence made the entire room seem smaller.
"You didn't disturb him," he said quietly.
I glanced around nervously. "Then why is everybody looking at me?"
His gaze swept across the restaurant.
Instantly, everyone looked away.
"Because Orion doesn't allow strangers to touch him."
I looked down at the enormous dog, who had now settled comfortably against my leg.
"Really? He seems like a sweetheart."
"No," the stranger replied immediately. "He isn't."
I blinked, then cautiously scratched Orion's ears again. His tail thumped against the polished floor, and he closed his eyes contentedly.
"Well," I murmured, "maybe he just has good taste."
For one brief second, the man's serious expression nearly broke into a smile.
I had no idea I was speaking to Dante Moretti, the ruthless Mafia boss who controlled much of New York's criminal underworld. I didn't know the armed men guarding the doors were his personal security, or that Orion had once attacked a man who'd approached his owner without permission.
All I saw was a lonely dog enjoying a little affection.
"Good night, handsome," I whispered, giving Orion one final scratch.
Then I picked up my tray and hurried toward the kitchen.
But just before the doors swung shut, I glanced back.
Orion was standing.
His enormous body faced the kitchen, and a low, heartbreaking whine escaped his throat.
The stranger wasn't watching me anymore.
He was staring at his dog.
The next morning, I arrived at work expecting another exhausting shift. Instead, my manager pulled me aside, looking pale and frightened.
"Olivia," he whispered, "what exactly did you do to Mr. Moretti's dog last night?"
"I petted him. Why?"
My manager swallowed hard.
"Because Mr. Moretti's people have been asking questions about you."
A chill traveled down my spine.
"What kind of questions?"
Before he could answer, a black SUV stopped outside the restaurant.
Two men in dark suits stepped out.
Then my manager's phone rang, and whatever he heard made his face turn white.
He slowly lowered the phone and looked directly at me.
"Olivia... Mr. Moretti wants to see you."
My heart began pounding.
"Why?"
My manager glanced toward the waiting SUV.
"Apparently, his dog hasn't eaten, slept, or stopped staring at the door since you left."
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Then he hesitated, his voice dropping to a frightened whisper.
"And Mr. Moretti just discovered something in your background that he says is impossible..."
