I noticed him before—yesterday. Is he following me?
I quicken my pace, cutting down a side street.
Just when I think he’s gone. I notice him again. Heisfollowing me.
My pulse kicks up. I try to lose him—turning corners, ducking through an alley—but he's always there. Closer now.
My hands shake as I fumble for my phone.
I call the one person I know I can trust.
He answers on the first ring.
"Polina." His voice is rough, urgent. Like he's been waiting for this call.
"Dante," I breathe, glancing over my shoulder. “I’m in trouble."
Polina
He's there in seconds.
One second I'm alone on an empty street corner, phone pressed to my ear, heart hammering—and the next, a sleek black SUV pulls up beside me so smoothly it's like he materialized out of thin air.
The passenger door swings open.
"Get in."
I scramble inside, and before I can even close the door, Dante pulls me across the console into his lap. His arms band around me, crushing me against his chest.
"You're okay," he murmurs into my hair. "You're safe. I've got you."
My heart is still racing, but now for an entirely different reason. The solid warmth of him. The way his hands move over my back, checking for injuries he won't find.
I miss this so much.
"The man," I gasp. "He was following me?—"
"I know." Dante pulls back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing my cheek. "He's one of mine. Keeping you safe."
I blink. "What?"
"His name is Marco. He's been on your security detail since you left."
"Detail?" My brain struggles to catch up. He has a security detail on me?
I want to question him further about it, but something else niggles at me.
“How didyouget here so fast?"
His jaw tightens. "I was already close."
"Close? Dante, I walked six blocks from Mirella's?—"
"I know."
The pieces click into place. "You've been following me too.”
"Yes."
