Her Ex Mocked Her With His Rich Fiancée—The Mafia Boss Claimed Her With One Kiss Before Everyone

PART 2 — THE FILE MARCUS STOLE BEFORE HE LEFT

The Coffee Shop That Became an Interrogation Room

Elena did not go back inside.

Her cousin’s engagement dinner continued behind the glass in a blur of candlelight and red wine, but it felt like a play she had accidentally walked out of before the final act. Her pulse still carried the shock of Dominic’s mouth on hers. Her hand still remembered the expensive wool of his sleeve.

But the photograph burned hotter than the kiss.

“My father was a dock supervisor,” she said. “He died in a warehouse fire. There was nothing mysterious about it.”

Dominic looked toward the dark street.

“There was a great deal mysterious about it.”

“You cannot just arrive, kiss me in front of my ex, and then tell me my dead father had secrets.”

“I should not have kissed you.”

“At least one correct sentence.”

His mouth tightened.

“I am sorry.”

“Are you sorry because I am angry or because you understand you used me?”

“Both.”

The answer landed with irritating honesty.

Elena folded her arms.

“What do you want?”

“For tonight? A public place. Coffee. Ten minutes. If you still want me gone after that, I leave.”

“You already know enough about my life to be dangerous.”

“Yes.”

“That is not comforting.”

“No.”

She should have walked to her car.

Instead, she thought of Marcus calling her a receptionist, Celeste laughing like Elena was already part of a past that belonged under the table, and her father’s handwriting staring up from Dominic Hale’s hand.

“There’s a coffee shop two blocks away,” she said. “You sit across from me. Hands visible. No more surprise kissing.”

Dominic nodded.

“Understood.”

The coffee shop was small and yellow-lit, smelling of roasted beans and cinnamon. Elena chose the table nearest the window. Dominic did not comment on the fact that she kept the exit in view.

He placed the photograph between them.

“My father, Gabriel Hale, died two months after yours.”

Elena looked at the younger man in the picture.

“That’s him?”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t look like you.”

“He was kinder.”

The sentence held grief without performance.

Dominic continued. “Your father worked Pier 19 for Kingsley Maritime. My father owned the smaller competitor trying to expose safety violations at that pier.”

“Kingsley,” Elena said.

Celeste’s last name.