Chapter 1 - THE WAITRESS WHO DARED TO ASK
The entire ballroom fell silent when a waitress in a stained apron approached the youngest son of New York's most feared mafia boss and held out her hand.
“Elliot, would you like to dance?”
Twenty-five-year-old Elliot Russo stared at Norah as though she had just offered him something nobody had ever considered giving him.
A choice.
Across the ballroom, Enzo Russo stopped laughing.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Norah didn't turn around.
She kept her hand extended, leaving enough distance for Elliot to decide whether he wanted to take it.
“The drummer is playing a four-count rhythm,” she said quietly. “You were following it earlier.”
Elliot looked toward the jazz band.
“One, two, three, four,” he whispered.
“Exactly.”
“I don't dance.”
“Have you ever tried?”
He hesitated.
“No.”
“Then maybe nobody knows whether you can.”
Someone laughed nervously.
Dominic Russo, the powerful family patriarch, lowered his cigar.
“Waitress,” he said coldly. “Step away from my son.”
Norah felt dozens of eyes settle on her.
She needed this job.
Her rent was overdue, and her mother's medical bills were stacked on the kitchen counter.
But Elliot was looking at her hand.
Not with fear anymore.
With curiosity.
“Would you prefer that I stand beside you?” she asked.
Elliot considered the question.
Then he reached forward.
His fingertips touched hers.
“Yes,” he said. “But please don't pull me.”
“I won't.”
They walked onto the dance floor together.
The drummer noticed them and softened his rhythm.
Norah gave Elliot a little space.
“One step to the left. Then back.”
Elliot watched her feet.
He tried.
His movements were stiff at first, but when he recognized the pattern, something changed.
His shoulders relaxed.
His steps became precise.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
And then, to everyone's astonishment, Elliot smiled.
A real smile.
Across the room, Dominic's cigar slipped between his fingers.
Enzo's expression darkened.
Because Elliot wasn't simply dancing.
He was doing something his family had spent years convincing everyone he couldn't do.
He was enjoying himself.
When the song ended, Elliot looked at Norah.
“May we do that again?”
She smiled.
“Whenever you want.”
Then his expression suddenly changed.
He looked past her shoulder toward a security camera above the ballroom entrance.
“Norah,” he whispered, “don't go home alone tonight.”
Her smile faded.
“Why?”
Elliot swallowed.
“Because I heard Enzo tell Valente that the waitress who spoke to me wouldn't be working here tomorrow.”
May you like
He paused.
“And he said nobody would ever find out what happened to her.”
