The first thing the most feared mafia boss in Richmond ever said to me was, “I’ll give you five hundred dollars if you sit at my table and pretend you’re in love with me.”

Chapter 2

The server, a young woman named Priya who I recognized from my old shifts at the diner two blocks over, stared at me like she’d seen a ghost.

“Hannah, oh my god, I heard you moved. What are you doing here?”

I forced a smile, aware of Ethan’s sharpened attention beside me. “Just grabbing dinner before my shift. You know how it is.”

“Your shift,” she repeated, glancing at the tote bag by my chair. “Still at the same place?”

“Yeah, still there.”

Priya’s eyes flicked briefly toward Ethan, curiosity plain on her face, before she seemed to remember she was working. “I’ll come back for your order.”

Once she left, Ethan studied me with new interest. “You work nearby.”

“I do.”

“Doing what?”

“Does it matter? You hired me for seven minutes, not a background check.”

“Humor me.”

I sighed, resigned. “I’m a nurse’s aide at St. Vincent’s. Night shifts, mostly. I was early tonight because my usual bus was running ahead of schedule for once.”

Something in his expression shifted, recalibrating whatever assumptions he’d made about the stranger he’d impulsively hired off the street.

“That’s not what I expected,” he admitted.

“What did you expect?”

“Someone who does this sort of thing regularly, I suppose. Professional company for hire.”

I laughed, genuinely this time. “You thought I was an escort?”

“I didn’t think anything specific. I panicked and grabbed the nearest woman who looked approachable.”

“Charming.”

“I’m working on my delivery.”

Across the restaurant, I noticed Lauren rising from her table, murmuring something to her companion before making her way toward us with deliberate, unhurried steps.

“Incoming,” I warned quietly.

Ethan’s posture straightened almost imperceptibly, old habits of control settling back into place.

“Ethan,” Lauren said, stopping beside our table, her voice carrying practiced warmth that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Lauren.” His voice remained perfectly level.

Her gaze shifted to me, assessing, curious. “And you are?”

“Hannah,” I said, extending a hand she shook with visible hesitation.

“I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t. I’m new.”

Lauren’s eyes moved between Ethan and me, clearly trying to calculate exactly how new, and how serious.

“Well,” she said finally, “it’s good to see you moving forward, Ethan. Truly.”

“Is it?” he asked, something sharp beneath the polite question.

Lauren’s composure flickered slightly before she recovered. “Of course. I only ever wanted you to be happy.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Ethan said quietly, “considering Grant.”

The temperature at our table dropped several degrees. Lauren’s jaw tightened, though she maintained her practiced smile.

“That’s ancient history.”

“Three months isn’t ancient history, Lauren. It’s barely a season.”

She glanced at me again, something calculating in her expression. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your evening.”

She walked away, though I noticed her glancing back twice before disappearing toward the restaurant’s entrance.

“That went better than expected,” I said.

Ethan exhaled slowly. “You have no idea how much better.”

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