“I’LL PAY $10 MILLION TO TRANSLATE THIS,” MAFIA BOSS MOCKED THE WAITRESS—THEN SHE LEFT HIM SPEECHLESS

Dante had inherited his father's signet ring on the morning of the funeral.

It was a heavy piece of gold bearing the Valerio crest: a lion standing above three waves. His father had worn it for forty years, through negotiations, funerals, weddings, and the violent succession disputes that had nearly destroyed the family.

Now a dead man's encrypted message seemed to accuse the person wearing it.

Dante studied Selene.

"Are you telling me my father believed I murdered someone?"

"No," she answered. "I'm telling you the message mentions a son wearing a ring. That is not the same thing."

"Convenient distinction."

"An essential one."

Luca returned from the far side of the restaurant. The man with the phone had already left.

"Boss, we have a problem."

Dante did not look away from Selene.

"How serious?"

"The photographer wasn't working alone."

"Then find out who hired him."

Selene stepped back.

"I should return to work."

Dante gave a short, humorless laugh.

"You've just read something that could decide the future of my family. You think I'm going to let you carry another tray of wine?"

"That depends. Are you going to pay for the bottle if my manager fires me?"

Something flickered in his expression.

"You really aren't afraid of me."

"Actually, I'm extremely afraid of you."

That surprised him.

"Then why are you talking to me like this?"

"Because being frightened doesn't make me stupid."

Dante stared at her for a moment before turning toward Henderson.

"Miss Rostova is finished for the evening. Pay her for the full shift."

Henderson nodded frantically.

Selene folded her arms.

"I haven't agreed to leave with you."

Dante looked back at her.

"Then don't. But whoever photographed this table may now know you can read the manuscript. I suggest we discuss your safety before you decide."

She hated that he was right.

Twenty minutes later, Selene sat in the back of a black Mercedes beside a man whose name had terrified half the city for more than a decade.

Luca drove.

Dante sat opposite her, the parchment sealed inside a protective folder.

"How did you recognize the cipher so quickly?" he asked.

Selene watched Manhattan slide past the tinted windows.

"Because I've seen its structure before."

"Where?"

She hesitated.

"In a manuscript collection at Cambridge."

Dante's expression sharpened.

"The collection that ended your career?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She turned toward him.

"Someone substituted forged pages into an archive I was studying. When I reported the discrepancies, the university accused me of creating them."

"Who benefited?"

"A senior professor named Julian Harrow. He took over my research grant and published my findings under his own name."

Dante considered that.

"And you didn't fight?"

"I did. I lost."

"Why?"

Selene looked out the window.

"Because evidence disappeared. Witnesses changed their stories. And someone sent photographs of my younger sister walking home from school."

Dante said nothing.

"Her name is Mira," Selene continued. "She was seventeen. I wasn't going to gamble with her life."

"Where is she now?"

"Somewhere safe."

Dante heard the warning in her voice and didn't press.

Instead, he opened the folder.

"My father died eight months ago. Before he died, he told me that our family's financial reserves were protected by something no accountant could steal."

"A cipher."

"Apparently."

"Why didn't he simply tell you where the money was?"

"Because he didn't trust the people around him."

Selene glanced at the ring.

"Perhaps he didn't trust you either."

Dante's face hardened.

For a moment, she thought she had gone too far.

Then he said quietly, "That's what I intend to find out."

The Mercedes turned through iron gates and approached a limestone mansion overlooking the Hudson.

As they entered the courtyard, Selene noticed a bronze statue beside the fountain.

A lion.