Sofia barely tasted the tiramisu that appeared before her. The dessert that Dante Castellano had so casually recommended sat mostly untouched as she maintained her composure through the remainder of her father's birthday celebration. Her legal training had prepared her for many things - hostile witnesses, ruthless prosecutors, manipulative clients - but nothing had prepared her for what she'd witnessed in that storage room.
Or for those eyes. Dark and calculating, yet oddly mesmerizing.
"You've been quiet," her father observed as their driver navigated the late-night Manhattan traffic. Judge Ricci had insisted on seeing her home safely, a throwback to her childhood that tonight, Sofia didn't resist. "Case troubling you?"
"Just tired," she lied, hating how easily the deception came. In the dim light of the car, she studied her father's profile. What would the respected Judge Anthony Ricci say if she told him what she'd seen? What connections did a Supreme Court judge have with a restaurant owned by the Castellano family?
The questions burned, but she swallowed them. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
"La Luna was a nice choice," she said instead.
"One of the finest in the city," her father agreed. "The owner is an old acquaintance."
Sofia's pulse quickened. "Castellano?"
Something flashed across her father's face - surprise, perhaps concern. "Marco Castellano, yes. You've heard of him?"
"The name came up in a case," she said smoothly. Another lie. "They own several properties in Manhattan, don't they?"
"A very successful family," her father said carefully. "Though not without their controversies."
The understatement was almost laughable.
Sleep eluded Sofia that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the silenced pistol, the terrified man on his knees, and those dark, assessing eyes finding hers through the gap in the door. The soft promise - *We'll speak again soon* - echoed in her mind.
She was in court by seven the next morning, buried in case files and pretrial motions. Work had always been her refuge, and today she needed it more than ever. By noon, she had almost convinced herself that nothing would come of the previous night's encounter. Dante Castellano had more important concerns than one defense attorney who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Ms. Ricci?" Her assistant's voice came through the intercom. "There's a delivery for you."
The arrangement of white lilies was elegant in its simplicity. No card, no message - but Sofia didn't need one to know who had sent them. The knot in her stomach tightened.
"They're beautiful," her assistant commented. "Secret admirer?"
"Something like that," Sofia murmured, thinking of the Victorian language of flowers her grandmother had taught her. White lilies: purity, innocence. Also traditionally associated with funerals. The message wasn't subtle.
She left the flowers on her assistant's desk.
That afternoon, Sofia was due in Judge Harmon's courtroom for a routine motion hearing. As she climbed the courthouse steps, a sleek black Bentley pulled to the curb. She pretended not to notice as the back door opened.
"Ms. Ricci." The voice was unmistakable, rich and commanding even in those two simple words.
Sofia paused, clutching her briefcase tighter. Courthouse steps, broad daylight, dozens of witnesses including police officers and fellow attorneys. The perfect place for this encounter - safe, public, professional. She turned.
Dante Castellano was even more imposing in daylight. His tailored suit - charcoal today rather than black - emphasized broad shoulders and a lean waist. His dark hair was impeccably styled, his jawline freshly shaved. He looked like any other wealthy businessman, except for those eyes. They missed nothing.
"Mr. Castellano," she acknowledged, keeping her voice neutral. "I'm due in court."
"This won't take long." He gestured to the car. "Five minutes of your time."
"I prefer to conduct my meetings in my office."
A slight smile. "And I prefer privacy. Five minutes, Ms. Ricci. That's all I ask."
The phrasing - *ask*, not demand - was deliberate. Sofia glanced at her watch. She had twenty minutes before her hearing.
"Five minutes," she agreed, despising herself for the concession.
The interior of the Bentley was cool and smelled of expensive leather. As she settled into the seat, Sofia noted the privacy partition between them and the driver. Dante sat opposite her, one ankle resting casually on the opposite knee, entirely at ease.
"Did you enjoy the tiramisu?" he asked.
"I wasn't hungry."
"A shame. And the flowers? Not to your taste either?"
"I prefer arrangements without implied threats, Mr. Castellano."
He seemed amused by her directness. "No threat was intended, I assure you. Merely a gesture of appreciation for your discretion last night."
"I haven't been discreet yet. I haven't done anything."
"Exactly." He leaned forward slightly. "You haven't called the police. You haven't filed a report. You haven't mentioned what you saw to anyone - not even your father, I suspect."
The accuracy of his assessment was unsettling. Sofia kept her expression neutral, lawyer mode fully engaged.
"What do you want from me, Mr. Castellano?"
"Direct. I appreciate that." He studied her for a moment. "What I want, Ms. Ricci, is to propose an arrangement that benefits us both."
"I'm not interested in any arrangement with you."
"You haven't heard my proposal."
"I don't need to. Whatever you're involved in, I want no part of it."
"Yet you're already involved," he pointed out. "The moment you looked through that door, you became a part of this situation. The question now is how we proceed."
Sofia felt a chill despite the car's comfortable temperature. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm offering you protection."
"From what? From whom?"
"From me, potentially." His honesty was startling. "But more importantly, from others who might take a less... measured approach to witnesses."
"I'm not a witness. I didn't see anything worth testifying about."
"We both know that's not true." Dante's expression remained calm, but his eyes had hardened. "You saw enough to create significant problems for certain interests. People far less reasonable than myself might consider you a liability."
The implication hung between them. Sofia fought to keep her breathing steady.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
"A mutually beneficial arrangement." Dante shifted, reaching inside his jacket. Sofia tensed, but he withdrew only a small white card. "My family hosts a charity gala next Friday at The Metropolitan. You will attend as my guest."
He extended the invitation. Sofia made no move to take it.
"You want me to be your date to a party?" The absurdity almost made her laugh. "That's your proposal?"
"It's the beginning of our arrangement. You will accompany me to certain social and family functions over the coming months. We will appear to be in a relationship."
Now she did laugh, a short, incredulous sound. "You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? This is insane."
"Is it?" His expression remained serious. "A respected defense attorney, daughter of a Supreme Court judge, involved with a businessman from a family with... certain rumors attached to it. It provides you with protection. It provides me with a useful association."
"Useful how?"
"Let's just say that dating someone of your impeccable reputation has advantages in my world."
Sofia shook her head. "This is ridiculous. I won't do it."
"Consider the alternatives." His voice remained conversational, but something dangerous lurked beneath. "What you witnessed was a private business matter. Some of my associates would handle this situation differently - more permanently."
"Are you threatening to kill me if I don't pretend to be your girlfriend?" Sofia couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice.
"I'm explaining reality." Dante leaned back. "I prefer this solution. It's cleaner, less messy, and potentially beneficial to us both. You stay safe, I gain a useful public relationship, and eventually, when certain matters are resolved, we part ways amicably."
Sofia stared at him, legal mind racing through scenarios, options, consequences. She could go to the police - but with what? She had no evidence, only what she'd glimpsed through a door. The Castellanos had connections throughout the city. How far would her accusation get before it was buried?
And if she refused this bizarre proposition...
"This is coercion," she said finally.
"This is negotiation." Dante placed the invitation on the seat between them. "Consider it carefully, Ms. Ricci. The gala begins at eight. I'll send a car."
He tapped on the partition, and the driver pulled smoothly to the curb. They were back at the courthouse steps.
"Your five minutes are up," Dante observed. "You won't be late for your hearing."
Sofia gathered her briefcase, hand on the door handle. "And if I don't show up?"
Dante's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then our next conversation will be considerably less pleasant." He reached across and opened the door for her. "Until Friday, Sofia."
The familiar use of her first name sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She stepped out of the car without another word, the white invitation clutched in her hand.
As the Bentley pulled away, Sofia stood motionless on the courthouse steps, mind racing. She had just over a week to decide - comply with this insane arrangement, go to the authorities with an unprovable accusation against one of the city's most powerful families, or...
What was the third option? Run? Hide? Neither seemed possible with a man like Dante Castellano. A man who could find her at her workplace, who knew where she lived, who had likely already investigated every aspect of her life.
Her phone buzzed with a reminder. Two minutes until her hearing. Sofia straightened her shoulders, tucked the invitation into her briefcase, and climbed the remaining steps. She would handle this situation as she handled everything - methodically, rationally, professionally.
But as she pushed through the heavy courthouse doors, one thought remained: for the first time in her career, Sofia Ricci had no idea what her next move should be.