Chapter 1
— Rose, are you truly ready to do this? — Ava asks with a worried look.
I stand by the window. The glass is cold beneath my fingertips. Outside, New York pulses in artificial lights. I look at my reflection — pale, sharp, unfamiliar.
— I'm ready. I’ve waited nine years for this moment.
My voice is steady. Devoid of hesitation. Every syllable is a bullet aimed at the name of Zayden Ferrari. My brother never had a chance to grow up. I have no right to fear.
Ava takes a step toward me. I hear the creak of her soles on the parquet. She places a hand on my shoulder, but I do not flinch. Her touch is warm, too human for this room.
— You’re entering their lair, Rose. These people do not forgive mistakes. Be careful with Luke, but even more so with Zayden. He sees through masks.
— Let him look. He will see exactly what I want him to.
She lets me go. I feel the weight of her words, but the rage inside me is stronger. It is the only thing keeping me whole. The plan is set in motion. The way back is buried under memories of blood and silence.
— Just come back alive — she whispers.
I turn slowly. My face is a stone wall. There is no room for promises I cannot keep.
I take my bag and leave the penthouse. The phone vibrates in my palm. Exactly according to plan. Luke.
— Hello, Rose. You promised we’d go out on a date, didn’t you?
I stop in front of the elevator. My reflection in the metal doors is flawless. I fix a strand of hair falling over my shoulder. I press the button and wait.
— I thought you’d already forgotten, Luke.
My voice is soft, slightly lowered. Every word slides slowly, like silk over skin. I press the device closer to my lips.
— I could never forget you.
His light breathing is heard on the other end. I smile at the empty wall. He is on the hook. Now I just need to pull him a little closer to the edge.
— I’ll be waiting for you at the restaurant in twenty minutes. Don't make me be bored alone.
— I’ll be there in ten.
I hang up before he can add anything else. I step into the elevator cabin. The metal doors close with a dull sound. The descent begins.
Every movement of mine is calculated. One wrong intonation and everything will collapse. Luke is just the door I must pass through. He believes the sound of my voice. He believes that this is the beginning of something beautiful.
I step into the lobby. I adjust my dark coat. My steps echo on the marble. Rhythmic. Cold. The night outside is ready to receive me. The meeting isn't just a dinner. It is the first step toward the end of the Ferrari family.
Ten minutes later, I am waiting in the café. The tip of the butter knife leaves thin furrows on the white tablecloth. I slide the metal slowly. Rhythmically.
— Rose!
I look up. Luke walks toward me with a confident stride. His suit is too perfect. His face glows with that specific excitement that only the naive possess. I rise slowly. My face transforms. The muscles relax into a well-rehearsed, warm grimace.
— Hello, Luke. I was just wondering when you’d show up.
He steps into my personal space. I catch the scent of expensive perfume and cool air. He leans forward. His lips touch my cheek for a moment. My skin breaks into goosebumps, but not from pleasure. This is simply part of the role.
— Sorry for being late. The traffic was terrible.
He pulls out my chair. I sit down, and he takes the seat across from me. His eyes do not leave mine. They are light and filled with an earnestness that makes me grip my bag tighter under the table.
Luke raises a hand and snaps his fingers. The gesture is light, almost casual. A waiter appears beside us after only a few seconds with an open menu.
— Bring us a bottle of your best red wine. And give us a minute.
He turns to me again. I rest my elbows on the table and interlace my fingers. Every look is a trap. Every smile is a lure. He thinks he’s leading the game. I know I’m just showing him the way to the abyss.
— You look stunning, Rose.
I look at him through my lashes. My pulse is steady. My blood is ice. The first part of the evening begins right now.
— Well, tell me, Luke. What kind of family do you have? After all, we should get to know each other.
I take a sip of the red wine. The liquid is full-bodied and slightly bitter. I watch him over the rim of the glass. Luke sets down his cutlery. He smiles widely, and a softness appears in his eyes.
— A complex question, Rose. Depends on which version you want to hear.
— Start with the real one.
He leans back. He runs his fingers through his short hair.
— My father is the center of everything. Zayden. He’s a busy man. Sometimes too much.
— And your mother?
— She passed away a long time ago. Zayden raised us alone. Me and his work.
His voice drops slightly at the mention of the name. My heart beats fast. The target is in the same room, even if only as a ghost in our conversation. I must be careful with every subsequent question.
— Sounds lonely — I utter quietly.
— We have Enzo. He’s like an uncle who’s always checking if you’ve washed your hands. Sofia is also around often. A family friend.
— You seem close-knit.
— We try to be. But my father isn't a man of idle talk. With him, everything is tasks and results.
He looks at me searchingly. He tilts his head to the side.
— And your family? You haven't told me anything about them.
— There’s nothing to tell, Luke. Just me and my past.
I place my palm over his. His skin is warm. I feel his slight impulse to squeeze my fingers. He doesn't suspect that every confession of his is a piece of the puzzle that will destroy his world. The pause stretches. He doesn't take his eyes off me.
— Maybe it’s time to create new memories — he says quietly.
I nod slowly. My smile remains fixed. In my head, there is only one image. My brother’s face.
— Why don't we start with new memories right now?
I slip off my right heel under the table. The movement is fluid, almost unnoticeable. I slide my foot up his trouser leg. Up toward the knee. Luke swallows hard. His Adam's apple moves sharply.
— Rose, what are you doing?
— Just getting to know you better.
I look him straight in the eyes. I don't blink. Every second of silence grows heavy between us. My fingers touch the edge of the table. My nails scratch lightly against the wood. He sets down his glass. His hand trembles slightly.
— Are you even thinking about food right now?
— Hunger takes different forms, Luke.
He leans forward. His face is close. I feel the heat he radiates. His eyes have darkened; his focus is blurred by adrenaline. He is easy prey. Too predictable.
— Do you want to skip dinner?
— It’s getting too cramped in here.
— My car is outside. We can leave right now.
He doesn't wait for an answer. He reaches into his pocket and leaves several bills on the check. He doesn't count them. He stands and rounds the table. He offers me his hand. I take it, feeling his palm close around mine. His skin is burning.
— Lead the way — I whisper.
I stand up. I slip into my shoe with one movement. Every step toward the exit is a step closer to his home. To his father. To the end. We step out into the cool night, and he doesn't let go of my hand. The noose tightens, and he smiles.
