Chapter 4 - THE EVICTION NOTICEBefore either of us could speak, the shop's front bell chimed violently.
Our greasy, opportunistic landlord barged through the door waving an official-looking paper. He had promised us until the end of the month to catch up on arrears, but now he claimed we had only five business days before formal eviction proceedings began and he sold the building to a commercial developer.
Noah turned slowly around.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. Without raising his voice, Noah looked the landlord dead in the eye and stated that the tailoring shop would remain exactly where it was for the next five years.
Panicked, I stepped right between them, shoving my hand against Noah’s chest. "Don't you dare threaten him on my behalf!"
Noah stared down at me as though no one had ever dared to stop him in his entire life.
"This is my shop, and this is my fight," I told him fiercely, my voice shaking with adrenaline. "Protecting me without my permission is just another form of control, Mr. Moretti."
For a long, tense moment, Noah didn't move. Then, astonishingly, he backed down. He gave a subtle nod to Paulie, who stepped forward and placed a cream-colored card beside the cash register with a single telephone number written in heavy black ink.
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"If anyone comes after dark, you call," Noah said quietly.
That night, a sleek black sedan remained parked beneath the flickering streetlamp outside, its headlights cutting through the drizzle until I locked up and went upstairs.
