Three days after Dante Castellano's proposition, Sofia sat in her office, staring at the white invitation on her desk. The Metropolitan Museum Charity Gala - one of the city's most prestigious social events. Under any other circumstances, she would have been honored to attend.
But not like this. Not as the forced companion of a man she'd witnessed preparing to execute someone.
She'd spent seventy-two hours weighing her options, each less appealing than the last. Going to the police was practically suicide without hard evidence. Refusing Dante's "arrangement" carried implications she wasn't willing to test. Running seemed equally futile - a man with his resources would find her eventually.
Which left compliance. Temporary compliance, she corrected herself. Just long enough to figure out a more permanent solution.
Sofia reached for her phone, then hesitated. How did one even contact a man like Dante Castellano? She doubted he was listed in any public directory. As if responding to her thought, her phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number.
*Have you made your decision?*
Sofia stared at the message. Of course he would contact her at precisely this moment. She wouldn't be surprised if he had somehow been watching her deliberate.
*We need to discuss terms*, she typed back.
The response came immediately: *La Luna. 8pm tonight. Private dining room.*
Sofia frowned. *Neutral location*, she countered. *My office. 6pm.*
There was a longer pause this time. *Carlyle Hotel bar. 7pm. Public enough for your comfort, private enough for conversation.*
She considered this. The Carlyle was upscale, always busy, with enough witnesses to make her feel secure but enough discretion to talk openly.
*Agreed*, she replied.
A single word came back: *Wise.*
Sofia set down her phone, already second-guessing herself. But she was a defense attorney - negotiation was her specialty. If she had to enter this bizarre arrangement, she would ensure it was on terms that provided her maximum protection and minimum involvement.
***
The Carlyle's Bemelmans Bar was softly lit, walls adorned with whimsical murals, piano music floating through the air. Sofia arrived precisely at seven, choosing a corner table with good sightlines to both entrances. She wore a conservative navy dress - professional armor - and ordered a sparkling water while she waited.
Dante arrived five minutes later. Several heads turned as he crossed the room, his presence commanding attention without effort. Tonight he wore a perfectly tailored gray suit with a deep burgundy tie, looking every inch the successful businessman rather than what she knew him to be.
"Ms. Ricci." He unbuttoned his jacket as he sat across from her. "You look lovely."
"This isn't a date, Mr. Castellano."
"No, but appearances matter." He signaled a server, ordering a scotch with practiced ease before returning his attention to her. "You've decided to accept my proposal."
"I've decided to negotiate it," Sofia corrected. "If we're going to do this - whatever this is - we need clear parameters."
Something like respect flickered in his eyes. "I expected nothing less from someone with your legal background. What terms did you have in mind?"
Sofia reached into her purse and removed a small notebook. "First, a defined endpoint. I won't agree to an open-ended arrangement."
"Six months," Dante offered.
"Three."
"Four, with the possibility of extension if circumstances require it."
Sofia made a note. "Four months. No extensions without mutual agreement."
He inclined his head slightly. "Agreed."
"Second, parameters of public appearances. I won't be at your beck and call. I have a career, clients who depend on me."
"Two social events per month," Dante said. "Plus one family dinner. Advance notice of at least three days, barring emergencies."
"Define 'emergencies.'"
A slight smile touched his lips. "Circumstances requiring immediate action to maintain our cover or ensure mutual safety."
Sofia wrote this down as well. The server arrived with Dante's scotch, pausing their conversation. When they were alone again, she continued.
"Third, boundaries of the relationship. In public, we can appear to be dating. Hand-holding, appropriate social interaction. Nothing beyond that."
"People will expect a certain level of intimacy between us," Dante pointed out. "A kiss on the cheek, an arm around your waist - normal couple behavior."
Sofia felt her cheeks warm slightly. "Minimal physical contact, and only when necessary for appearances."
"Agreed." He sipped his scotch, watching her over the rim of his glass. "Though I should note that a complete lack of chemistry will raise questions."
"I'll manage the chemistry," she said dryly. "I've convinced juries of more implausible scenarios."
That earned her another smile, one that reached his eyes this time. "I don't doubt it."
"Fourth, information boundaries. I don't want to know about your... business activities. The less I know, the better for both of us."
"A sensible precaution," Dante agreed. "Though I should point out that my family's legitimate enterprises are quite extensive. Restaurants, real estate, import-export."
"Those aspects I can discuss comfortably in public. Anything else is off-limits."
"Understood." He set down his glass. "I have some conditions of my own."
Sofia looked up from her notebook. "I'm listening."
"First, exclusivity. For these four months, you don't date anyone else. Our arrangement needs to be believable."
"Fine," Sofia said. Her demanding career left little time for dating anyway. "But the same applies to you."
"Of course." He seemed amused by her stipulation. "Second, discretion. What happens between us stays between us. No discussions with friends, family, colleagues."
"Agreed, though I may need to offer some explanation to my closest friends."
"A general statement about a new relationship is acceptable. Details are not."
Sofia nodded. "Third condition?"
"Your professional expertise." Dante leaned forward slightly. "Occasionally, I may need legal perspective. Not representation - just... consultation."
Sofia's eyes narrowed. "I won't help you circumvent the law."
"I'm not asking you to. But your insights on certain legal matters could be valuable."
She considered this carefully. "I'll provide general legal information, the same I would give any client during an initial consultation. Nothing that crosses ethical boundaries."
"Acceptable." Dante studied her face. "Fourth condition - and this is non-negotiable. If I tell you something is dangerous, if I give you an instruction related to safety, you follow it without question."
"I don't take orders from anyone, Mr. Castellano."
"This isn't about authority, Ms. Ricci. It's about keeping you alive." All trace of amusement had vanished from his expression. "My world can be unpredictable. If I say duck, you duck. If I say run, you run. No debates, no legal arguments."
The intensity in his eyes made Sofia pause. "Only in matters of immediate physical danger," she clarified. "And only when justified."
"You won't always have time to evaluate justification. But yes, only in matters of safety."
Sofia made one final note. "Is that all?"
"Almost." Dante reached inside his jacket and removed an envelope, sliding it across the table. "The gala is Friday. Inside is information about the event, what to expect, who will be there."
Sofia took the envelope without opening it. "And a script for what I should say?"
"No script. Be yourself - just a version of yourself who happens to be dating me." He finished his scotch. "You're intelligent and accomplished, Sofia. I have no interest in controlling what you say or how you behave, as long as our arrangement remains believable."
The use of her first name still unsettled her. "And if I have questions?"
Dante took out a business card and wrote a number on the back. "This is my private line. Use it if needed, but understand it's for essential communication only."
She accepted the card, tucking it into her notebook. "One last thing. What happens at the end of our four months?"
"We part ways amicably. I ensure your continued safety. Life returns to normal."
"And I have your word on that?"
Something hardened in his expression. "My word is not given lightly, Ms. Ricci. When I make a promise, I keep it."
Sofia met his gaze steadily. "Then I have your promise that when this arrangement ends, I walk away free and clear? No repercussions, no lingering threats?"
"You have my word." He extended his hand across the table. "Do we have an agreement?"
Sofia looked at his offered hand - strong, elegant, capable of both violence and surprising gentleness. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand in his.
"We have an agreement."
His grip was warm and firm, enveloping her smaller hand completely. Something electric passed between them at the contact, and Sofia withdrew perhaps too quickly.
Dante smiled slightly as he stood. "I'll send a car Friday at 7:30. Wear something memorable."
"I prefer to drive myself."
"That would defeat part of the purpose." He buttoned his jacket. "A couple arrives together, Sofia. But if it makes you more comfortable, you can meet me at my apartment and we'll go together from there."
She nodded, recognizing the concession. "I'll meet you at your place."
"Perfect." He placed several bills on the table, more than enough to cover both their drinks. "The address is in the envelope. I look forward to Friday."
As he walked away, Sofia remained seated, turning her notebook toward her. She stared at the terms they'd negotiated, the clinical words doing nothing to capture the surreal reality of what she'd just agreed to.
Four months pretending to be Dante Castellano's girlfriend. Four months navigating a world she'd only encountered across courtrooms and in case files. Four months of walking a dangerous line between legal and illegal, between safety and threat.
Sofia closed the notebook and slipped it into her purse. She was a Ricci - strategic, adaptable, resilient. She would survive this bizarre arrangement and find a way to extricate herself from Dante Castellano's world.
But as she left the bar, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered a troubling question: what if four months wasn't long enough to find a way out?
And worse: what if, by the end, she didn't want to leave?