Luca's POV
I picked her up at seven.
No driver this time. Just me and a car I'd rented under the name Isabella. People wouldn't know what to look for. We drove to a restaurant in Brooklyn I'd found that morning, small, Italian-owned, the kind of place where the tables were too close together and nobody cared who you were.
Maya didn't ask where we were going. She sat in the passenger seat and watched the bridge lights on the water and didn't fill the silence with questions, which was one of the things I'd always loved about her.
We got a table in the back. Ordered food neither of us would fully eat. The waiter left us alone.
Maya folded her hands on the table. "Tell me."
I'd been rehearsing this for four years without knowing I was doing it. Every version I'd constructed in my head so
