Chapter 5 - The Proposition
Sadie stared at him, her mind frantically trying to assemble the puzzle pieces and immediately rejecting every single one of them.
"No," she said, shaking her head firmly. "No, no, no. Absolutely not."
"You haven't even heard the proposition yet."
"I don't need to hear it! You want me to play spy? You want the broke rookie waitress who drops tea urns to infiltrate the Philadelphia underground and find the mole who tried to assassinate you?" Sadie threw her hands up, incredulous. "I dropped a pan of potatoes yesterday, Mr. Russo! I spilled marinara down a customer's back last month! I am a walking hazard to public safety, let alone organized crime!"
"Which makes you invisible," Dominic countered smoothly, stepping around the coffee table and sitting down in the armchair opposite her. "In my world, everyone wears a uniform. My men wear charcoal suits and earpieces. My rivals wear expensive watches and designer coats. They all move with a certain posture, speak with a certain cadence, and carry a very specific kind of fear."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"You don't carry any of that. You carry exhaustion. You carry desperation. You carry the look of someone who is invisible to the people running this city."
"Because am invisible!" Sadie retorted. "That's how poverty works! People look right through you!"
"Exactly," Dominic said, a rare, sharp gleam of satisfaction appearing in his eyes. "And that is why you are the only person who can walk into my inner circle without tripping alarms."
Arthur Vance stepped forward, placing a sleek black tablet on the coffee table between them. The screen lit up, displaying a digital organizational chart filled with photographs, names, and financial portfolios.
"We’ve narrowed the leak down to four primary suspects," Vance explained, his voice entirely professional. "Four individuals within Dominic’s inner tier who had access to his scheduling data yesterday afternoon."
Sadie looked at the screen. Four men stared back at her.
There was Marcus Vance (no relation), Dominic’s chief financial officer—a sleek, silver-haired man with cold blue eyes.
There was Frankie "The Hook" Scalise, a lifelong enforcer who managed the northern docks.
There was Victor Delgado, a smooth-talking real estate developer who handled the syndicate's laundering operations.
And finally, there was Leo Russo—Dominic’s younger cousin and the vice president of the family’s legitimate holding company.
"Leo?" Sadie murmured, reading the name beneath the fourth photograph. "That’s your cousin."
"Blood," Dominic said, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, "is frequently a very poor predictor of loyalty."
"And you want me to do what? Walk up to your cousin and ask him if he hired a three-hundred-pound psychopath with a crowbar?"
"I want you to take a job," Dominic said.
"A job? Doing what? Waitressing at your private club?"
"Better," Dominic said. "Leo is opening a new private supper club in Center City next week—The Obsidian. It’s an exclusive venue for high-rollers, politicians, and business partners. He’s currently interviewing front-of-house staff. Hostesses, head waitresses, floor supervisors."
Sadie stared at him as if he had grown a second head. "You want me to apply to work at your cousin's mob-front restaurant?"
"I want you to be the head hostess," Dominic corrected. "With a fully funded, immaculate background check courtesy of Arthur. You will look the part, play the part, and while everyone is busy treating you like hired help, you will watch them."
"And what am I looking for?"
"A paper trail. A burner phone. A nervous twitch. Anything that proves which of those four men sold me out to the highest bidder," Dominic said, standing up and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city. "Find the leak, Sadie. And in return..."
He turned back to face her.
"I will clear every single debt you have. Medical bills, student loans, back rent. I will set up a trust fund that ensures you never have to stand on a greasy restaurant floor for nineteen hours again."
Silence descended upon the penthouse.
Sadie looked down at her bandaged hand. She thought about the yellow eviction notices, the cold coffee, the aching arches of her feet, and the terrifying, exhilarating feeling of watching a giant fall because she refused to let a tea urn ruin her shift.
"If I screw this up," Sadie whispered, "your cousin will probably feed me to the Delaware River fish."
"My cousin won't even know you're there," Dominic said softly. "Because to men like Leo, a waitress is just part of the furniture."
May you like
Sadie let out a long, shuddering breath, leaned back against the charcoal velvet, and looked at the most feared man in Philadelphia.
"Alright," she said. "When do I start training?"
