Chapter 1 - THE GOLD LIGHTERThe moment I told Noah Moretti I did not have a boyfriend yet, the entire tailorshop fell completely silent.
His expensive gold lighter snapped shut with a crisp, metallic click that sounded like a gunshot in the cramped room. His massive bodyguard, Paulie, stopped chewing on his toothpick. Even my elderly father froze in the back storage room, holding a roll of chalk in his trembling hand.
Noah Moretti was the most feared mafia capo on New York’s west side—a man who never needed to raise his voice because his absolute, freezing silence frightened people far more than raw rage. And right now, those dark, unblinking eyes were fixed entirely on me as he asked, almost too calmly, "What do you mean, not yet?"
I should have lied. I should have invented a safe, imaginary boyfriend to put distance between myself and the apex predator standing in front of our cutting table.
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Instead, I was too tired to care. My father’s bespoke tailoring shop was three months behind on rent, the old radiator barely sputtered out lukewarm air, and final notice bills had been arriving faster than our dwindling customers. Noah’s lucrative order for several custom suits could keep our doors open for an entire year. Which meant I had to stand inches away from a dangerous, heavily armed man and pretend my hands weren't shaking like dry leaves.
So, I lifted my chin, met his gaze, and told him I meant exactly what I had said.
