Chapter 3 - Ambush on 57th Street
The rain in SoHo fell in thick, greasy sheets, turning the cobblestone streets into mirrors reflecting neon signs and brake lights.
Naomi stepped out of the heavy glass doors of the Mercer Agency, pulling her trench coat tight around her collar. Her shoulders slumped for only a fraction of a second before she forced them straight again. The interview had been a disaster. The creative director had looked down his aristocratic nose at her Atlanta portfolio, offering her an unpaid internship with the vague promise of "exposure."
"Exposure doesn't buy milk or pay rent for a four-year-old," she muttered to herself, blinking away a sudden wave of exhausted tears.
She pulled out her phone to call Julie. She needed to know that Lily was safe at the modest motel they had booked near Queens. But before she could dial, the screen lit up with an incoming call from an unknown New York number.
"Julie?" Naomi answered quickly. "Are you guys at the motel?"
"Naomi," a voice replied.
A single word.
The phone nearly slipped from her numb fingers. The cobblestones beneath her boots seemed to tilt violently. The world narrowed down to the sound of that voice—deep, cultured, layered with gravel and dark honey. A voice that had whispered Italian poetry against her skin in the lavender fields of Tuscany. A voice she had mourned for five agonizing years.
"Leo?" she breathed, her voice cracking like dry wood. "Is this... is this a sick joke?"
"Turn around, Naomi."
She spun on her heel so fast her wet heel skidded across the stone.
Parked across the narrow street, idling silently in the rain, was a midnight-black Rolls-Royce Phantom. The passenger window was rolled down three inches, revealing the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man.
Then the car door opened.
A massive umbrella unfurled, held by a broad security guard, but the man who stepped out into the rain waved the umbrella away without breaking eye contact. He walked through the downpour, unbothered by the cold water soaking his tailored wool coat, his focus locked onto her with the predatory precision of a hawk.
Five years had aged him, but only made him more devastating. Silver touched the hair at his temples. A faint, jagged scar traced the line of his jawline—a souvenir of the violence he had never fully hidden from her. But his eyes were unchanged.
Storm eyes.
"You're alive," Naomi choked out, backing away until her spine hit the brick wall of the gallery. Her purse fell onto the wet pavement, scattering design sketches into the gutters. "You're alive... and you let me believe..."
"I never told you I was dead, Naomi," Leo said, stopping three paces away. The rain dripped from his dark hair down his cheekbones, but his silver-gray eyes burned with fierce intensity. "I spent eighteen months looking for you in three states."
"Liars always have a story," she spat, her defensive armor slamming down, anger rushing in to drown her terrifying wave of grief. "Why are you here, Leo? Did you track me down just to gloat? To show off your billion-dollar fleet while I'm drowning?"
"I didn't track you down," Leo said softly.
Naomi froze at the strange, unsteady tremor in his voice. "Then what?"
Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled drawing. He held it up between them in the rain. A purple heart over a crayon skyscraper. A tiny cleft chin drawn on a smiley face.
Naomi’s breath caught in her throat. The color drained from her face until she was whiter than the marble steps behind her. Her hands flew to her mouth in utter terror.
"Seat 3B," Leo murmured, stepping closer until he stood directly over her, his broad chest casting a shadow against the rain. "She has my chin, Naomi. She has my eyes. And she told me her mother said men like me leave."
May you like
"No," Naomi sobbed, shaking her head frantically, panic exploding in her chest. "No, no, no. She's not yours. Leo, stay away from her! You can take everything from me, but you cannot take my daughter!"
"Take her?" Leo’s voice cracked, raw with an agony she had never seen in him before. He grabbed her wrists gently, not hurting her, but anchoring her so she couldn't run. "Naomi, look at me. I don't want to take her from you. I want to build a fortress around both of you that no one in this cursed world can ever tear down."
