Chapter 2 - THE MAN ABOVE THE TABLE
A white linen napkin drifted toward the floor.
I watched it land beside Dante Varga’s polished shoe.
Then his hand appeared beneath the tablecloth.
Long fingers.
A heavy silver watch.
No hesitation.
He picked up the napkin, but before sitting upright again, he turned his head slightly and looked straight at me.
For one horrible second, neither of us moved.
His eyes were dark.
Calm.
Not surprised enough.
He took in my wet hair, my ripped stocking, the broken purse strap wrapped around my wrist, and the hands I was pressing over my mouth to keep myself from making a sound.
Then he whispered two words.
“Play along.”
He disappeared above the linen.
Jared’s footsteps stopped beside the table.
“Did a woman come through here?”
Dante took his time answering.
I heard ice strike glass.
“You interrupted my dinner to ask me that?”
Jared had never understood danger unless it shouted.
That was one of his worst qualities.
He mistook calmness for weakness.
“I’m looking for my girlfriend.”
“Then perhaps she doesn’t want to be found.”
“She’s confused.”
I shut my eyes.
That word.
Jared loved that word.
Whenever I disagreed, I was confused.
Whenever I wanted to leave, I was emotional.
Whenever I remembered something differently from him, I was unstable.
“She ran in here,” Jared continued. “Brown hair. Beige coat. About this tall.”
Dante took a drink.
“And?”
“And I need to know where she went.”
“You don’t.”
Jared laughed.
It was the wrong laugh.
“Look, man, this is personal.”
“So was my dinner.”
The room became strangely quiet.
I could hear the restaurant beyond the alcove—silverware, muted conversations, rain against the tall windows—but near Dante’s table, everything seemed to shrink around his voice.
Another man spoke.
I had not realized anyone else was nearby.
“Sir, you were asked to leave.”
Jared snapped, “Who the hell are you?”
“Security.”
“I’m not leaving without her.”
Dante sighed.
That sigh frightened me more than shouting would have.
“Apparently,” he said, “you require a clearer explanation.”
A chair scraped.
I saw Dante’s shoes disappear.
Then Jared made a short, startled sound.
Not pain.
Shock.
Dante spoke quietly.
“This restaurant belongs to me.”
Silence.
“This building belongs to a holding company that belongs to me. The men at the door work for me. The camera above your left shoulder belongs to me. And the police officer currently being asked to step inside from the lobby owes me absolutely nothing, which is why I recommend you leave before he becomes interested in why a terrified woman ran three blocks through the rain to escape you.”
My eyes opened.
Police?
Jared’s confidence cracked.
“I didn’t touch anybody.”
“Tonight?”
Another silence.
Dante continued.
“Interesting qualification.”
“Khloe!” Jared shouted suddenly. “If you’re here, this is insane. Just come talk to me.”
My body reacted before my mind did.
I flinched.
The tablecloth moved.
Barely.
But Jared saw it.
“There.”
His shoes turned.
He reached for the linen.
Dante’s hand caught his wrist before he could lift it.
I heard the impact against the tabletop.
Glasses jumped.
Dante’s voice lost even the small amount of warmth it had carried before.
“No.”
Jared cursed.
A second later there were more footsteps.
Security.
The hostess.
Someone from the lobby.
Jared kept shouting as they pulled him away.
“This isn’t over, Khloe!”
I remained beneath the table.
Even after his voice faded.
Even after the velvet curtain closed again.
My body refused to understand that he was gone.
Then Dante lifted the linen.
He crouched.
Up close, he looked younger than I had expected from his voice. Late thirties, maybe forty. Black hair brushed back from his forehead. A thin scar near one eyebrow.
He held out his hand.
“He’s gone.”
I stared at it.
“I can’t.”
“You can stay under my table if you prefer, but the waiter is beginning to wonder whether I’ve developed very unusual dining habits.”
A laugh escaped me.
It was tiny.
Broken.
But it was the first sound I had made in several minutes.
Dante’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“Come on.”
I took his hand.
He pulled me out.
The entire VIP section pretended not to look.
I wanted to disappear.
Instead, Dante placed me in the chair opposite him, removed his jacket, and set it around my shoulders.
“I’m wet.”
“So is the jacket now.”
“I mean I’ll ruin it.”
“It’s a jacket.”
The waiter appeared instantly.
Dante said, “Tea.”
I shook my head.
“I’m fine.”
“Tea,” he repeated.
The waiter vanished.
“I should go.”
“No.”
My eyes shot up.
His tone changed.
“You should not walk back into the street while that man is nearby.”
“I have a protection order.”
“That did impressive work tonight.”
The bitterness in his voice surprised me.
I looked toward the curtain.
“What did the police do with him?”
“Stopped him outside. Whether they arrest him depends on what you tell them.”
My stomach twisted.
Dante watched me.
“You’re afraid reporting him will make him worse.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you aren’t afraid of the police. You’re afraid of what happens afterward.”
Before I could answer, my broken purse slid from the chair.
Its contents spilled across the carpet.
Wallet.
Lipstick.
Phone charger.
A small calculator.
Work badge.
And several folded sheets I had shoved inside before leaving the restaurant upstairs.
Dante bent to help.
Then stopped.
His eyes had landed on one page.
A freight audit worksheet.
He picked it up.
My fear changed shape.
“Give me that.”
He didn’t.
His gaze moved across the columns.
Container numbers.
Fuel adjustments.
Chassis IDs.
Route codes.
His expression became completely still.
“Where did you get this?”
“My office.”
“Where do you work?”
I snatched my badge from the carpet.
Too late.
He had already read it.
NORTHLINE FREIGHT & HARBOR
KHLOE BENNETT
SENIOR FREIGHT AUDIT ANALYST
He looked back at the worksheet.
Then he pointed at one sequence.
VF-91822.
“What is that?”
“A chassis number.”
“No.”
“It is.”
“It belongs to Varga Freight.”
The restaurant seemed colder.
I stared at him.
“Varga?”
“My company.”
I looked from the worksheet to his face.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because this chassis supposedly moved seventeen refrigerated containers through Pier Eighteen during the last six months.”
“And?”
“Pier Eighteen has been closed for almost a year.”
Dante’s eyes sharpened.
I continued.
“And according to the same records, your chassis traveled eleven thousand miles during a period when its fuel account shows zero gallons purchased.”
“That would be difficult.”
“It gets worse.”
“How much worse?”
I hesitated.
Then turned the paper around.
“Your company was paid for loads it never moved.”
His jaw hardened.
“No, Ms. Bennett.”
I expected denial.
Instead he leaned forward.
“My company was never paid.”
My pulse changed.
“What?”
“I would know if someone transferred more than three million dollars into my accounts.”
I swallowed.
“How did you know the amount?”
He tapped another line.
“You accountants always hide the interesting number near the bottom.”
I stared at him.
Three million eight hundred and twelve thousand dollars.
Freight reimbursements.
Fuel surcharges.
Detention charges.
All connected to Varga equipment.
Dante pushed the sheet back toward me.
“Someone is using my company’s identity.”
“That isn’t possible without internal access.”
“Exactly.”
For several seconds we said nothing.
The waiter brought tea.
I wrapped my hands around the cup.
Dante watched the rain beyond the window.
Then he asked, “Why did your ex find you tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I attended a coworker’s retirement dinner upstairs. Jared wasn’t supposed to know where I was. Nobody outside work knew.”
Dante looked at my badge again.
“Who knew at work?”
“Twenty people.”
“Who knew about him?”
I hesitated.
“My HR department.”
“Anyone else?”
“My boss.”
“Name.”
“Evelyn Hart.”
Something changed in Dante’s face.
“You trust her?”
“She hired me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“She helped me when Jared started showing up outside the office. She changed my parking space. Let me work from home. She personally walked my protection order down to corporate security.”
Dante stared at me.
I hated the conclusion already forming between us.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I nearly ignored it.
Then another message arrived.
And another.
Dante held out his hand.
“May I?”
Against my better judgment, I gave him the phone.
The first message read:
YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT.
The second:
THAT MAN WON’T PROTECT YOU FOREVER.
Then the third arrived.
Dante read it before I did.
His expression went cold.
He turned the screen toward me.
YOUR BOSS TOLD ME EXACTLY WHERE YOU’D BE.
The tea cup slipped from my fingers.
It shattered on the floor.
May you like
And for the first time that night, I understood Jared might not have been the person I should have been running from.
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