The trap was set in an upscale restaurant overlooking Central Park, the kind of place where New York’s elite conducted business over thousand-dollar bottles of wine while the city lights twinkled below like diamonds scattered on black velvet. Aria sat at the corner table in an elegant cream dress that hid both her bulletproof vest and the wire hidden beneath the fabric. Her heart pounded steadily against her ribs, but her hands remained calm on the tablecloth. She had come a long way from the trembling waitress who once cried signing the contract in Dante’s penthouse. Tonight, she was the bait — and the queen who would help end this threat.
Dante’s voice murmured reassurance through her earpiece, low and commanding. “I’m right outside with the team. Signal at any threat. You are not alone
