Chapter Seven
771 Words
Isabella
The café was quieter than Isabella remembered.
Rain tapped softly against the windows while jazz music drifted through the speakers overhead.
Adrian sat across from her, an untouched espresso resting in front of him.
She smiled.
"You really weren't kidding."
He looked up from the menu.
"About what?"
"You actually do drink espresso."
A corner of his mouth lifted.
"I don't make a habit of lying."
The irony of the statement wasn't lost on him.
She laughed.
"I'll admit, I was expecting you to order something ridiculously complicated."
"I don't like complicated."
"No?"
"No."
She stirred cream into her coffee.
"I don't believe you."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"You don't?"
"You seem..." She searched for the right word. "...careful."
He didn't answer immediately.
"I've learned that careful people tend to have complicated lives."
For the first time, she saw something shift behind his gray eyes.
Just for a second.
Then it disappeared.
"Maybe you're right."
"So..."
She leaned forward.
"What do you actually do?"
"Finance."
She frowned.
"That's the most boring answer I've ever heard."
"It usually ends conversations."
"I'm stubborn."
"I've noticed."
She smiled proudly.
"So, finance."
"What kind?"
"The legal kind."
She laughed.
"That wasn't the clarification I was looking for."
Cassian found himself laughing with her.
It was quiet.
Barely audible.
But it was real.
He couldn't remember the last time someone had made him laugh without trying.
"You know," Isabella said, "you're different than I expected."
"You expected something?"
"I expected someone in an expensive suit to be..."
She hesitated.
"Go on."
"Full of himself."
"And?"
"You aren't."
He looked out the window.
"Appearances can be deceiving."
She noticed the way his expression changed whenever the conversation drifted toward him.
Every answer was carefully measured.
Every personal question gently redirected.
It wasn't that he was rude.
It was almost as if he'd spent years teaching himself how not to be known.
"So," he asked, "what about you?"
"What about me?"
"Teaching."
Her face immediately brightened.
"I've wanted to teach since I was little."
"Why?"
She smiled to herself.
"When I was seven, my second-grade teacher used to keep extra books in her classroom."
Cassian listened quietly.
"I'd finish my work early just so she'd let me read."
She laughed softly.
"She probably thought she was rewarding me."
"She wasn't?"
"No."
"She accidentally gave me the one thing I loved most."
"And that's why you volunteer?"
She nodded.
"Kids deserve someone who believes in them."
The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard.
"You really mean that."
"I do."
She looked at him curiously.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No."
She narrowed her eyes playfully.
"That look means something."
Cassian shook his head.
"I was just thinking."
"Dangerous."
"It usually is."
Across the street, Marco sat behind the wheel of the SUV.
He lowered the camera after taking another photograph.
"They've been here almost an hour."
Luca's voice crackled through the speaker.
"How close are they?"
Marco looked through the lens again.
"They're smiling."
Silence.
"They've laughed more than once."
Another pause.
Finally—
"Keep your distance."
Marco frowned.
"You sound worried."
"I am."
Inside the café, Isabella glanced toward the rain-soaked street.
"I keep feeling like someone's watching us."
Cassian's pulse remained perfectly steady.
He didn't turn around.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She shrugged.
"I've had that feeling for days."
His expression remained calm, but every instinct sharpened.
Someone else.
Not his men.
His surveillance teams had rotated out over thirty minutes ago.
So who was watching now?
Without moving his head, he caught the reflection in the café window.
A dark sedan.
Parked across the street.
Engine running.
Too far away to identify.
Close enough to observe.
Someone was there.
And they weren't his.
His phone vibrated once.
A text from Luca.
Black sedan. Florida plates. Unknown occupants.
Cassian's jaw tightened.
Florida.
That wasn't one of his crews.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone else had found Isabella.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket before she noticed.
"You okay?" she asked.
He forced a small smile.
"Fine."
She studied him for another moment before nodding.
"I should get going."
"I'll walk you."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She smiled.
"I'd like that."
They stepped out into the cool evening air.
Neither of them noticed the camera shutter hidden inside the black sedan.
Click.
One photograph.
Then another.
As Isabella laughed at something Cassian quietly said, the man behind the camera smiled.
"Mr. Romano is going to be very interested in this."
The engine started.
The sedan pulled away into traffic.
For the first time in twenty-one years...
Vincent Romano knew exactly where to begin.
- Writer
