Chapter 9 - THE APPROACH TO THE GLASS
Every second seemed to stretch into an eternity.
Inside the restaurant, nobody moved. The diners at the surrounding tables remained frozen, their eyes darting between the shattered wineglass on the floor, the formidable billionaire standing in the alcove, and the dark silhouette advancing through the rain outside. The grand piano in the lounge had stopped playing altogether, the pianist’s hands resting motionless above the keys as the silence of the dining room became absolute.
Alina could hear the blood thundering in her ears like a war drum.
She stared at the woman approaching the entrance. With every stride the stranger took across the wet pavement, the impossible resemblance grew more terrifying. The woman moved with the exact same unhurried, graceful cadence that Nora had possessed—the quiet, regal posture of a woman who had been born into vast wealth before she had been forced to flee into the dark.
Is she my sister? Alina’s mind screamed, frantically grasping for an explanation that made sense of the twenty-five years of lies. Did my mother have another child? Or is this...
The thought was too monstrous, too impossible to complete.
Nora was buried in a municipal cemetery in Evanston. Alina had sat beside the casket. She had held her mother's cold hand until the funeral director closed the lid. She had scattered the soil herself.
Yet the woman outside wore Nora’s face. She wore Nora’s eyes. And around her neck hung the identical silver laurel that Nora had claimed was unique in the entire world.
Dante shifted his weight.
He slowly lowered the baby boy into the plush, velvet-cushioned banquette of Table 9, setting the infant down gently between two silk pillows so the child remained completely comfortable, safe, and surrounded by soft boundaries. He smoothed the baby's tiny navy vest with a tender, lingering touch of his scarred hand, ensuring the boy was secure, before turning his full, towering height back toward the room.
Dante stepped forward, clearing the banquette, placing his broad frame directly in front of Alina.
He did not touch her, but his physical presence formed an impenetrable wall of black wool and muscle between the young waitress and the front doors. His right hand, covered in the dark scales of the dragon tattoo, rested open and steady at his side.
The mysterious woman reached the exterior portico.
The heavy rain ceased to beat against her cashmere coat as she stepped beneath the restaurant’s brass awning. The warm, amber illumination of Aurelia’s exterior chandeliers flooded over her, revealing the striking, flawless beauty of her face.
She did not hesitate.
May you like
She reached out her gloved hand, placing her palm against the curved brass handle of the revolving glass door.
She pushed.
