Chapter 3

ROSE

The restaurant is too warm, too crowded, and too full of people who can't keep their mouths shut.

I sit in my corner booth with my coat draped over the seat, and the cappuccino I had ordered immediately upon entering had already gotten cold.

The smell of grilled salmon and roasted garlic comes from the kitchen, but it's drowned out by the buzzing voices around me. And all of them seem to be focused on one thing: my scandal.

"She cheated on a man like Killian? What was she thinking?" a woman from the opposite table gossips.

"Well, I heard that he is now with her twin sister. It serves her right." Her friend replies, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Well, he's rich and also very handsome… men like that don't stay single for long."

As they continue gossiping, I clench my jaw so hard my teeth begin to ache. If I open my mouth, I'll rip into all of them.

And God knows Killian had already succeeded in tainting my image, so I should be looking for ways to clear it—not damage it more.

Besides, I'm not here to entertain gossips. I'm here for the man who's been texting me about his brother's murder case—the one I wasn't sure I would take.

We agreed to meet today, and I've been waiting here for the past forty minutes. If there's one thing I hate more than lying, cheating bastards, it's lateness.

Just when I'm about to get up and leave, the door swings open. I look up from where I'm packing my bag, and my stomach tightens.

The man who walks in is not a stranger. Even though I've never met him before, I've definitely seen his face on the news.

He looks to be in his early forties but very fit. He's also tall and broad-shouldered, with onyx eyes that look both cold and mesmerizing.

As he steps in, he runs his hand through his black hair that has enough silver in it to make him look sophisticated.

His name is Dante Vilante, CEO of Vilante's Consortium. He's also the man my family has been desperate to make a deal with for years. And right now, he's walking straight toward me.

When he sits, his voice is deep and smooth as he says, "You're Rose."

I nod, still stunned. Even though the person who had been texting me finally introduced himself as Jordan Vilante, and I had suspected that he was somehow related to Dante Vilante, I didn't want to get my hopes up.

"The messages… you're Jordan Vilante's father?"

"Yes." His gaze is steady, almost unreadable. "My son believes in you. He's convinced you're the only one who can find out who killed his brother. Even though the case is a lost cause."

There's no malice in his tone, but something about the calm way he says it gets under my skin.

Then he leans back. "You're trending, Detective. For the wrong reasons. I don't mean any harm, but the whole city—"

"Save it," I cut in. "If you're about to lecture me about my so-called sex tape, don't bother. My husband set it up. I have enough proof to bury him, but my daughter's life is on the line. The second I get the money for her treatment, I'll clear my name, get reinstated, and I'll take your case officially."

His eyes narrow as if he's thinking over what I just said. "So you want to use this case as bait to redeem yourself, huh?"

The words hit me like a slap, and my blood boils. "If that's what you think, forget it. I don't need charity, and I don't need your pity. But what I won't allow is you judging me."

"I'm not judging you. Besides, I could forget the case," he says slowly. "I already did years ago. I'm only here because my son needs closure. But I can help you, whether you solve the case or not. Every traitor and cheater deserves to be taught a lesson."

"No." I shake my head. "I will work for the money. I will take this case up, I'll find the murderer."

His mouth curves into a bitter smile. "Don't promise what you can't deliver. Many detectives worked the case before. They all ended up murdered. I'm warning you for your own good."

I couldn't stop the shiver that bolts down my spine. All the detectives who solved this case ended up dead? And without doubt, by the killers of the boy?! My brain went through an instant override, and then it dawned on me. Whoever might have killed this boy sure has mad connections.

My pulse runs at an accelerating speed. I sip from my coffee. Then, maintaining calmness, I speak. "I've never failed a case in my life." And that's a fact. "We have a deal?"

He studies me for a long moment before giving the smallest nod. "We have a deal."

After we shake on it, Dante insists on dropping me home. I tell him I'd rather not walk out with him before the media paints him in a bad light because of me, but he doesn't budge.

When we step outside, the cold wind hits me in the face. I've barely taken three steps when a woman's voice cuts through the air.

"Some people should learn to keep their legs closed before pretending to be victims."

I freeze, and my fingers curl into fists. But before I can turn, Dante walks over to her, radiating quiet authority.

He bends down to her level and says, "Before you go believing gutter rumors, try thinking. How would a woman with Detective Rose's record and reputation risk it all for something that cheap? And your brain should tell you that her husband got engaged less than a week after the scandal. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you? And that should tell you that Detective Rose is obviously a victim of some foul play."

Everywhere goes silent, but Dante doesn't wait for a reply. He just walks back, opens the car door for me, and says, "Let's go."

***

Inside the warmth of his car, I murmur, "You didn't have to do that."

"They needed someone to put them in their place," he says simply, as if it costs him nothing.

We're halfway to my destination when his phone rings. He answers, and in an instant, his tone changes.

"What happened?"

There's a pause, and I watch his hand tighten on the wheel. "I'm on my way."

He ends the call and exhales sharply. "My son… he got into a fight and has sustained some injuries. They say it's bad."

His panicked voice makes me sit up. "Go home to him. I can take a cab."

"No." His tone is final. "It's snowing. You'll catch a cold. Just let me check on my son, and I'll drive you home."

"But…"

He doesn't let me talk before cutting in, "I'm harmless, I promise. You can trust me on that."

I've trusted the wrong people before. But something in his voice makes me pause. And for his son's sake—the boy who's been texting me—I nod. I am curious to meet the boy who has been texting me.

When we reach his house, I follow him inside. And then I freeze.

Because when I see the boy, it's not just the bruises on his head that surprise me. It's something else entirely.