CHAPTER FOUR -- BREAKFAST WITH THE DEVIL

Café Milano at 8:55 AM was a calculated choice. Public enough to be safe, exclusive enough to talk business. I selected a corner table with my back to the wall, ordered espresso, and waited. 

Lorenzo had argued against this meeting. "Too soon," he'd insisted, his face tight with concern. "You're rushing things."

Perhaps. But two years of waiting, of drowning and rebirth and training, had left me impatient. I needed to look into Rafael's eyes in the clear light of day. To confirm what I'd sensed last night,that some part of him recognized me, not physically but essentially. Soul recognizing soul, despite everything between us.

My hands trembled slightly as I raised the espresso cup. I set it down before the liquid could betray my nerves. The truth was, I'd barely slept. The prospect of facing Rafael again, this time without the buffer of a crowded party, had brought the nightmares roaring back. Water filling my lungs, Isabella's cold smile above me, Rafael's voice calling my name too late.

The maître d' straightened suddenly, and I knew Rafael had arrived. He moved through the café with predatory grace, every eye drawn to him. The two years since my death had hardened him, carved new lines around his mouth, added silver at his temples. He wore power like armor.

I forced myself to breathe normally. To remember I was Natalia now, not the woman he had loved and lost. Not the woman who had died believing he had orchestrated her father's death.

"Natalia." He took the seat across from me, declining the offered menu with a gesture. "Just espresso."

"Mr. Moretti." I smiled, keeping my voice neutral despite my thundering heart.

"Rafael, please."

 His eyes studied me intently. "You mentioned Barcelona."

Direct, then. The Rafael I'd known had enjoyed verbal sparring before business. This man wasted no time. The difference pierced me,another reminder of how my death had changed him.

"Your customs problem. The inspector, Vargas. He's been compromised by the Colombians." I slid a folder across the table, pleased that my hand remained steady. "Everything you need is here."

Rafael didn't touch it. "How do you know about this?"

"Information is currency, Rafael. I make it my business to be wealthy." I sipped my espresso, hiding my nervousness behind the cup. "The solution is simple. Vargas has a daughter at university in Madrid. She's involved with a man with cartel connections, though she doesn't know it. Leverage that, and your shipping problems disappear."

His expression remained impassive, but I saw the calculation in his eyes,the same look he'd worn when planning expansions of his legitimate businesses, when considering strategic alliances. So familiar it made my chest ache.

"Why help me with this?" His question was soft but direct.

"Because I want something in return." I leaned forward slightly, catching the faint scent of his cologne. The memories it triggered were so powerful I nearly lost my composure, his scent on my skin, on the pillows we shared, on the jacket he'd draped around my shoulders on cool evenings.

"Naturally." 

Now he opened the folder, scanning its contents with practiced efficiency. "What's your price, Natalia De Luca?"

"The Barrett development project." I named a luxury hotel complex his company was building in partnership with Antonio Greco,the man who had helped Isabella frame me, the man whose documents had made Rafael believe I was a traitor. "I want in."

His eyes snapped to mine, sharp with suspicion. "That project is fully funded."

"But behind schedule and over budget." I leaned forward slightly. "My architects have solutions to both problems."

"Your architects?" One eyebrow raised. "I wasn't aware construction was among the De Luca interests."

"There's much you don't know about me." The words carried more truth than he could possibly understand. Before my death, architecture had been my passion, my career. I'd designed buildings that now dotted Milan's skyline,including the original plans for the Barrett complex, scrapped after my death. 

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Evidently."He signaled for the check, decision made. "I'll need to verify this information about Vargas."

"Of course." My heart was racing again,the first part of my plan was working. Getting close to Rafael through business would eventually give me access to Isabella and Antonio as well. "And if it proves accurate?" 

Rafael stood, buttoning his impeccable suit jacket.I rose as well, maintaining eye contact. "Then we have a meeting with your project managers tomorrow. My office, 2 PM."

"Confident, aren't you?"

"Always." I extended my hand, and after a brief hesitation, he took it.The contact sent electricity up my arm,memory and sensation tangling together. His hand had once known every inch of my body. Had once held mine as we walked along Italian shores, planning our future. A future stolen by treachery and water. I saw something flicker in his eyes,confusion, recognition quickly suppressed. He held my hand a moment too long before releasing it.

"Until tomorrow, then," he said, voice slightly rough. I watched him leave, my palm burning where he'd touched it. 

Lorenzo was right to be concerned. Because despite everything I knew,about Rafael's connection to my father's death, about his criminal empire built on suffering,.my traitorous heart still recognized its other half..But Alina had loved unwisely, trusted blindly. Natalia would not make the same mistake.

My phone buzzed with a message from Lorenzo: ‘Did he take the bait?’

‘Hook, line, and sinker,’ I replied.What I didn't add was how dangerously close I'd come to drowning again, not in water this time, but in blue eyes that still held pieces of my soul. How I'd had to fight the urge to confess everything, to see if the love we once shared was strong enough to survive death itself.That kind of thinking would get me killed again. And there would be no third chance.