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No matter how much I already miss the fire she sparks inside me.
With new conviction, I make my way home. But as I round the corner onto my block, the hair on my nape prickles. I tense, my senses screaming that I'm being watched.
Casually, I turn, scanning the area behind me. For a heart-stopping instant, I catch sight of a familiar figure across the street, half-hidden beside a parked van. Even from this distance, there's no mistaking Sam Wright's wide form.
He's…he'strackingme. There can be no other explanation. But why? Does he know about my alliance with Alessa?
My gut twists, but I force myself to keep walking calmly. I can't let him see I've made him. Praying he's too far away to notice my shaking hands, I slip into my building. But I can still feel his eyes crawling over me.
Sam's surveillance makes one thing abundantly clear—I'm out of time. Whatever secret agenda is at work here, it's quickly spiraling out of control. If Sam's tracking me, he likely knows about my renewed connection with Alessa.
Our plans for Elena just got moved up. I take the stairs two at a time, adrenaline and determination surging through my veins. I'll contact Alessa ASAP so I can be done with her ASAP.
No more dancing around the fire between us.
CHAPTER12
ALESSA
The phone rings just as I'm sitting down with my morning espresso. I glance at the screen and see it's Lucia Rossi, my lawyer. I don't know if I have the energy to deal with her before coffee. She's sharp as a razor and has an uncanny ability to find loopholes in any legal situation—but she's also Don Mancini's cousin. I can only trust her so far. But I don't have much choice in the matter, since she's the best.
And I need the best.
"Lucia," I answer, putting her on speaker as I dose myself quickly with caffeine. "You have news?"
Her clipped tone comes through the line. "The FBI released their hold on the Ruby Realm late last night. I just received the paperwork finalizing it."
I nearly drop the phone in surprise. The Ruby can reopen already? It barely seems possible—but Lucia wouldn't joke about something like this. She's hinted more than once at getting her own invitation to membership, but I've always resisted. I certainly don't need Don Mancini's cousin snooping around the Ruby, not when I've been fiddling the books to hide my real profit margins. The extra money goes to my work resettling and supporting trafficked women from the Mancini brothels.
I think it's a fair trade.
A fierce joy sweeps through me at the thought of the Ruby being mine again, chasing away the darkness that's lingered since that disastrous kiss with Natalie. The Ruby is more than just a business—it's my sanctuary. A place where women can talk freely, scheme boldly, and be themselves without judgment. Losing it cut me deeper than I cared to admit.
But now, miraculously, it's mine again. At least for now.
I keep my voice airy. "Well, that's some good news. What changed their minds?"
Lucia sighs. "Does it matter? Just enjoy the small victory before they change their minds again. And I'd suggest getting in there quickly and straightening the place up. If you want to stay solvent, you should open again as soon as possible."
I refrain from snapping that I'm not paying Lucia for her business advice, and who the hell does she think I am, and just say, "I'll head over right away." I'm already moving toward the stairs so I can shower and dress upstairs.
"Good. And watch your back, Alessa," Lucia adds, a rare note of warmth entering her tone before she hangs up.
Hmm. Maybe she actuallylikesme.
I select a sleek black suit and my favorite pair of red-soled Manolos, every inch the powerful proprietor. It takes a little effort to tame my thick dark hair, and I forgo my usual dramatic makeup, leaving my olive skin bare save for bold red lips, and touch a little mascara to my lashes. The effect is elegant but understated.
Appropriate for dealing with my staff after so much chaos, especially since I suspect the FBI will have tossed the place from top to bottom searching for evidence during the shutdown. Better to present a composed, unruffled front.
In the car, I try to temper the exhilaration bubbling inside me. I want to throw open the sunroof and shout my joy to the city streets speeding past. But a lifetime lived half in shadow has taught me the virtues of restraint. Outwardly I'm the picture of refined boredom, while inside I'm already making plans.
The discreet sign marking the Ruby's doorway is still intact, I note with relief as we pull up. And inside, the damage is minimal, thankfully. Some scattered papers and overturned chairs, easily righted. The FBI tore my office apart, of course, but that's to be expected.
I make some calls, leaving instructions for my most trusted staff to spread the word: the Ruby Realm will reopen for business by Friday night. It takes tremendous effort to keep my tone cool and professional, when inside I'm ready to dance on the bar.
I can already picture the space coming alive again—the music, the hum of intimate conversations, the clink of glasses, even the work spaces. This haven for New York's elite women will rise from the ashes, more legendary than ever.
And the hidden basement where the real action happens, our secret sanctuary…well, I'll find something for that, too.
