« The ring that should have buried with him. when a waitress served chicago’s most feared mob boss, a single name opened a forgotten grave. »

The wine bottle she had been pouring lay shattered across Table 8.

Deep red Sassicaia bled across the white linen and down the front of Leonardo’s charcoal suit.

His four bodyguards were standing.

Dante, his enormous right-hand man, had one hand inside his jacket.

Clara barely noticed any of it.

She could feel Leonardo’s fingers tightening around her wrist.

“Where did you get this?”

His voice was quiet.

That made it worse.

Clara swallowed. “Please. You’re hurting me.”